The Big Chop!

I still can't believe I did it. As of, June 2, 2011, a week from today, I am now sporting a TWA (teeny weeny afro). I have mixed emotions about the entire ordeal. Going natural was a difficult decision and it scared me, but my fears have subsided--somewhat. I have written about my fears surrounding the lack of social acceptance and so forth, but that is not even the issue anymore. I'm really dealing with Tanisha more so than anything. My acceptance of how I look and not comparing my hair to others. Yes, I read all of this prior to going natural but until you are in it all the way it doesn't really mean anything.

I do have to tell the story of my journey last week at the salon. I arrived at 4:00 pm (on time--as usual) and I did not leave until 9:00 pm. If nothing else motivated me to go ahead and chop it all off, the wait in the salon did. My stylist is male and I don't expect him to understand this process, but he wasn't very sensitive either. He looked me in the eyes and asked me why I wanted to go natural as if there was something wrong with it like he needed me to convince him. Going natural for me is not a fad nor a trend. I guess some people get tattoos, wear certain clothes, get piercings, etc. because of the latest trends but taking the journey to "naturaldom" is definitely not a trend. You learn so much about yourself and those around you that you can't help but grow as a result. But back to the story...I gave my stylist the quick and dirty version of "the why." I want healthy hair, I no longer want to put chemicals in my hair, I want to live with the hair God gave me, and I wanted to add I'm tired of being at the mercy of stylist like you, but I held my peace.

As if the explanation wasn't enough, the saga continued. The shampoo girl calls me back and was about to comb my hair out in the regular area where the other ladies were being curled or permed, but Mr. Stylist quickly gave her a look of death and instructed her  to take me to the back where the shampoo bowls were located, out of site.  Really? It was like HE was embarrassed. Maybe he thought he was doing me a favor, but I didn't see it that way. After my wash, the shampoo girl places a towel over my head as she walks me to the hair dryer again like she thinking, "Lord please don't let anyone see this woman's hair."

Once I finally got into the "hot seat" the commentary kept coming. After he cut my hair he suggested I get a texturizer. Again I think, really? Didn't I tell you four hours ago that I am going natural? I politely said,"Isn't that a chemical? He noted that it was but not as harsh a perm. Geez! This dude is, as you can read, not the sharpest knife in the drawer. I declined his offer and proceeded to pay for my services. As a last dig before I left he told me to make certain that I didn't let my husband know that he cut my hair.

Wow! I was just blown away but chalked it up to ignorance and thanked God He blessed me to not be a simple-minded person. It goes without saying that I will never return to that salon for a trim, color, shape-up, nothing. I guess it was a blessing in disguise because having to deal with such ignorance just made me stronger in my convictions.

In the end, this entire ordeal made me feel more powerful with each word, each passing moment, each snip of hair that fell to the ground.

aWordfromSmith