I am not my hair, I am not this skin

I've always struggle with defining what beauty is and where it can be found. Growing up I always felt unqualified to be defined as beautiful because i was not the right shade of brown, not the right height, ow and most importantly I just looked to African to be South African................................wait what? 

I'm still trying to figure out what that even means? Who was ordained with the right to tell me whether I am beautiful or not? I wish someone could have led me to the light of realisation a minute ago, I could have avoided years of low self esteem, lack of confidence, doubting myself, questioning if I'm worthy. But it isn't to late, I embark on this journey with the expectation of returning back to the image that was created in Gods sight, as i was created in His likeness, not your likeness, His likeness, the almighty. "You feel the greatest pleasure and wholeness when who God made you to be is fully developed and expressed" and this is when your true beauty can be revealed in its fullness as it comes from within. 

"Despite the fact that many of us judge others based on their outward appearance, no one should be defined at all by their physical features; they means nothing in regards to what lies within a person's heart, mind and soul. The true essence of beauty is within....."

The article bellow was posted by Elle Afrique, see sources for link. Take a few minutes to read this, its beyond worth it. 

I am not my Hair

I hate my natural hair. Yeah I said it. Sorry not sorry. Yes I love to perm my hair. I love the feeling of soft, easy to comb, silky, bouncy hair after a nice retouch. And I see nothing wrong with that. But that does not make me less natural than the girl with the beautiful, kinky afro, or does it?

What happened to appreciating and loving people for more than their preferences and appearance? Don’t we know better than to judge a book by it’s cover?

I for one cannot stand the pain that comes with having to comb out my kinky hair every morning. It’s simply unbearable! I want to wake up every morning and put my comb through silky easy to comb hair without suffering from a headache for an entire hour simply because I had to comb my hair. Us, perm loving girls have gone on to become the subject of backlash from the natural hair lovers simply because we choose to straighten our hair. It just so happens to be that because I like my hair soft and silky, I am not deep enough, not soulful enough to the natural hair lovers. They have gone as far labbeling me shallow. Simply because I like a perm or a blow out?

When Madame C.J Walker invented that hair straightening formula I’m sure her intention was to make our lives as black women easier. Why go through the pain of combing out the kinks every morning I can have soft and silky hair? Why should I be judged for taking this option? I have to say, this isn’t a crusade against natural hair lovers. You are beautiful with your big afros, bantu knots and all. My point is that, we all like what we like, which means I shouldn’t be judged for the hair style on my head. For one, to think that anyone is more soulful than I am, ‘deeper’ than I am, all because from time to time, I like a little chemical in my hair – really isn’t in the spirit of uplifting each other as women of colour.

We, the women of colour are always trying to bring each other down using our appearance. From ‘team light skin” to ‘team Afro kink’. Whats next? If only we could use just as much energy uplifting ourselves as we use to bring each other down, our world would be a much better place. To the perm loving sisters, remember that you are a lot more than just your hair.

Sources:

http://www.relevantmagazine.com/god/deeper-walk/features/23549-qmade-in-the-image-of-godq

http://elleafrique.com/i-am-not-my-hair-2/

http://genius.com/Indiaarie-i-am-not-my-hair-lyrics

Created in His image

The problem isn't black hair, it's racist schools

“The problem is that [white] people do not understand black people’s natural hair and they don’t understand what it takes for a black girl’s hair to meet their standards,” 20-year-old Noncedo Zondi, told me when I recently polled people about their schools’ hair policies.

One young woman told me that her school had repeatedly referred to her hair as “exotic”. But what exactly made her hair exotic? Is it the fact that her previously white-only school did not recognise her hair as acceptable? Was the fact that her hair grows out and not down a fault to be corrected?

I perused the codes of conduct of 30 South African schools to see what the general expectation was for learners’ hair. Some included regulations like:

“No unusual, attention-attracting, exotic or fashion hairstyles (e.g. spikes, dreadlocks) or shaving of the head is permissible.”

“Outlandish cult hairstyles are not permitted.”

“Exotic hairstyles are not permitted. Some traditional variations may be permitted at the discretion of the Principal.”

This repeated use of the word “exotic” bothers me. According to the Merriam Webster online dictionary “exotic” means “very different, strange, or unusual … not living or growing naturally in a particular area: from another part of the world.” The Oxford Dictionary defines “exotic” as “originating in or characteristic of a distant foreign country”

Clearly, for many schools black children’s hair is associated with peculiarity and alienation, as if this is a Scandinavian country with a black population of 1%; and not South Africa with its 80% majority. I am shocked that in 2014 there are schools that refer to natural hair using the word “exotic”. (And by natural hair I mean black people’s hair, because as far as I am aware we are the only race that needs to describe our unprocessed hair in this way.)

Whatever the rationale, it is racism in the disguise of school rules concerning neatness.

It has been ages since the last time I used chemical relaxer on my hair but I still remember how painful it was. The relaxing of my hair would happen around the time schools would be reopening; sometimes it was for a class photo or a similarly important day.

The relaxer was to make my hair neat for school; I had to look presentable even if that meantrisking chemical burns to the scalp.

My grandmother, who was not a fan of burning children’s scalps in the name of neatness, opted for a simpler and faster method – she would just shave off all my hair. My mother would be upset every time I returned home from Nkoko’s [my Setswana Granny’s] house with a shaven head. But I would choose a shaven head over relaxed hair any day.

Sadly, little girls are still made to conform to this idea of neatness today. Recently, a woman told me how her daughter’s daycare teacher had asked her to make sure the little girl’s hair was “neater” – code for relaxed. This came after the five-year-old had developed a rash on her scalp and gone to school with her hair unplaited, in an afro.

The continued disregard for black hair in schools is racist. Twenty years after democracy, some schools have become more racially diverse but the rules have not changed; teachers and schools are not willing to accommodate black people and their hair in its most natural state. That is the real problem.

Source: http://www.thedailyvox.co.za/the-problem-isnt-black-hair-its-racist-schools/