Everyone has a hair story. Hair in the black community carries a lot of weight. It shows our strength, and our personality, and highlights our creative talent. If you ever want to see black folk shine in their space; go to a hair show and you will see us in all our glory.
My hair story started early and this weekend I had the opportunity to reflect on my blessings throughout my life. Just as I am now with my daughter, my mother wasn’t too inclined to worry about my hair being perfect. She was focused on my education and spiritual growth. As an adult, I wholeheartedly appreciate this fact. As a young girl, who was bullied because of my hair, small frame, and other nonsensical things, I craved the polished looks that my peers came to school with.
My hair is and has always been thick, full, and generally disobedient. I have been through a million different styles and now understand the importance of healthy hair. Growing up, going to the hairstylist, or what we call “the shop” was not a norm. My mother worked 2 jobs to provide for us. Getting your hair done was a luxury. Even now, I cannot recall my mother going somewhere to get her own hair done.
I lived in the era of Kitchen Beauticians!
What’s a Kitchen Beautician? She is your neighbor who is always stylish and knows something about hair and makeup. She is the one lady at your church, who has a professional license, but does hair on the side because the city water department job pays more. She is the woman who has supplies in her house because she has a guy friend who works at the factory where the hair equipment is made.
Kitchen Beauty Shops did not specialize in trends. There was no YouTube or Instagram-style inspiration. Ideas came from black actresses in film or music, or JET magazine. For young girls; for me, it was simple. Make the hair neat, nice, and manageable for my mom to handle until the next time.
Payments for beautification were different during these times as well. It was a dinner plate, or maybe the woman’s husband came over and fixed the car engine. Rarely money, rarely commercialized spa experiences as it is now. For me, it was babysitting or helping some younger kids with math homework. Payment was sweeping up in the salon my hair heroes worked in or making runs to the corner store. Not a bad trade for beauty right?
One of my first kitchen beauty shop experiences came from spending time with my auntie. She was in the category of fashionable and beauty-inclined, but not a licensed beautician. She put a relaxer (perm) in my hair. For those who do not know, a relaxer straightens your hair in a semi-permanent way. I am all natural now, but for most of my young life, I chemically straighten my hair. And before the hair evolutionists begin with their commenting, I am not here to debate the right, wrong, or preference. I am natural now and love it; but if I chose to go back to perming my hair, I would and it will always be my choice. Your hair, your choice.
Anyway, I would spend the night at my aunt’s house. Help her clean or run errands with her then at night she would wrangle my hair and make it pretty before church. This cycle was repeated month after month, and cross multiple aunts, one of which was a licensed cosmetologist. As I got older, say 11 years; I wanted more than hair management. I wanted styles that made me look pretty. I didn’t want to be teased about my snatch ponytail or weird bangs. My aunt started taking me to her friend’s house. I would go with my aunt to her friend’s house while they played cards, enjoyed drinks, and talked grown-up business. What did I do? Played outside or in the basement with kids whom we identified as “cousins” until my aunt’s friend was ready. I would sit in the chair in the kitchen, pretending to ignore their grow-up talk. She permed my hair and styled it age-appropriate. Most importantly she made me feel gorgeous.
I am so thankful for those moments. I am grateful for those women and men who took the time to play a part in my beauty story. Before I end with naming my Hair Heroes, I want to shout out the person who inspired this blog today. Ms. Chlore is one of many, but the most memorable because she was the first to talk to me about what I wanted to look like. I recently saw her after many years and immediately felt the love, warmth, and support she gave me as a little girl. Thanks, Ms. Chlore.
Now, my Hair Heroes
All my aunts. My Aunt Carmen, rest in peace, would braid my hair when we visited my dad’s family in Toledo, Ohio. My Aunt Roz and Aunt Dee, always get mentioned together because they could fill the gap anytime. My Aunt Rita didn’t play, but anytime I spent the night at my cousin’s house would “do something to my head” despite working long shifts in her own shop.
Ms. Chlore, who I have already shared about, lived close to my grandmother’s home and did all the beautiful styling of my hair during those hard middle school years.
To my first official hairstylist and mentor Keshawn. And owner of a Dayton classic DJ’s Hair Studio. She was more than a hairstylist. She showed me how to act like a lady, demonstrated hard work, and taught me to appreciate a great shampoo. I was with her for a good length of time from high school until college. Her husband Aaron also did hair and would fill in as my stylist occasionally. This marked the first professional I would pay money to after finally getting my first retail job. Discounted of course, but she taught me to pay, and tip appropriately, and I have never forgotten it.
My cousin Shanda. My 1st first friend and closest family member in my generation. Blood family and daughter to my Aunt Rita mentioned above. She covered the gap when I was home from college. Shanda was my braider and stylist. And in a fun fact, also braided my husband’s hair during his afros years. This was even before we were even a thing. Shanda marks my full circle moment because up until recently was also my daughter’s stylist and I am thankful for all that she did to make my daughter feel beautiful.
My dear and oldest friend Kristina. She reluctantly held it down in college, where it was extremely hard to get to any beauty shop. In Frankfort, KY on the campus of KSU, the opportunities were slim, but my dormmate, turned best friend refused to go anywhere with me “looking crazy” so would braid, curl, style my hair; but fuss the whole time because my hair had to be forced to be formed. Muscle required! She still to this day accuses me of tricking stylists into doing my hair!
My Mississippi stylist, Julia Green. I was only there for a short time in life, but her garage beauty shop was so nice and she gave me my first Halle Berry cut that I could appreciate. She would do this after our 8 or even 10-hour shift in the call center and never complained. Now she is the owner of the famed Labellas Salon in Gulfport Mississippi and if I ever had to go back and visit, I know exactly where to go to get my wig spilt.
Kimberly Washinton represents my longest-running hair stylist. She is my friend. She did my hair for my wedding. She did beautiful styles that weren’t even on her service menu. She was there for me through all 3 of my children. She worked with me when I began to experience hair breakage for the first time, after delivering my first child. She has since retired and is probably the first stylist I mourned losing. I truly struggled for a bit, but she was there to talk me through it. I love her for that.
And now, of course, my current style Kwinet. I was slow to trust and move forward after 15 years with Kim. Kwinet listened, was open, and was ready to help me transition from chemical-based hair management to natural styles. She understands me and can handle my extra personality well despite being a quiet calm woman. She has locked herself in as my stylist and also takes care of my daughter with delicate grace.
Thank you all, past, present, and even those I may have forgotten. I am proud of my disobedient thick and sometimes maddening hair. You all helped get me here and I am grateful God placed you in my life.