Naomi, what did you do to your hair?!
How do you wash it?
How does it do THAT?!
Is it naturally like that?
Can I touch it?!

These questions bombard me
in hallways, classrooms, among friends.
They act like they've never seen Afro hair before.
Ok, ok maybe they haven't.
Maybe that's why they're so curious!
Grabbing, pulling, inspecting
my mane.
I feel like a science experiment.
You see, I have been cursed with black hair.
My Afro, in all of its nappy-ness,
is the reason why you can't see the board in chemistry class.
You'd be pissed if I sat in front of you at the movies
and if we hug,
my hair may just get caught up in your earring.
Sometimes I stare in envy at the blonde and brunette bombshells
with pin straight hair,
the gorgeous Hispanic girls with their glossy waves,
the Asian beauties with hair that resembles black silk
Their backgrounds so different,
their textures so similar,
and my shit looks nothing like it.
No wonder someone always want to touch it.
Because it's not "normal."
What I'd give to reach up to my head and feel
smooth strands instead of kinky ones.
Some look at my hair with questioning looks upon their faces
as if they're trying to figure out a complicated equation so I help them out.
A first generation American with Kenyan parents of different tribes
(Kikuyu from my mom plus Meru from my dad, to be specific.)
I've tried straighteners and chemical relaxers
to achieve the silkiness that I desired
only to have my hair subtracted in chunks,
leaving bald spots
but when you're using sodium hydroxide on your hair,
what do you expect?!
It took YEARS for me to stop
lusting for luscious locks that I would never have
and be proud, instead.
I have been blessed with black hair.
A big, nappy Afro that represents
pride and strength.
I've broken combs in this hair.
Brush bristles struggle against this hair.
I have used entire bottles of conditioner in this hair
at one time.
There are so many tangles in this hair.
This hair takes hours to do.
But this is my hair.
A big mess to some and a statement to others
but it's all mine.
It doesn't fall in perfect waves
and doesn't resemble silk in any way
(but if you give me a blow dryer, flat iron, and 6 hours, we might come close.)
My hair, the way God intended it to be.
Natural.
And mine.

Naomi, what did you do to your hair?!
I stopped using hazardous chemicals on it!
How do you wash it?
With shampoo, like you!
How does it do that?!
To be completely honest, I'm still trying to figure that one out.
Is it naturally like that?
Absolutely.
Can I touch it?
No, unless, of course, I can touch yours.