Finally, today I gave Rocco the attention he’d been missing for the past two weeks. Sundays are my wash days but last week was my boyfriend’s birthday and I didn’t leave enough time to get Rocco washed so I put him up in a high bun and there he stayed… for the next week.
Today I gave him a steam, did some major detangling, got rid of plenty of shed hair, and gave him a good scrub. He’s now moisturized and up in twists. I haven’t been blow drying my hair after washing it lately. I think it’s probably been a good 8 weeks since I’ve last blow dried my hair. It makes for longer twists, and fluffier twist outs but I don’t mind not using heat on my hair for a while and skipping the blow drying saves me quite a bit of time as well.
I really don’t think about Rocco and my hair that much anymore. It’s sort of been absorbed into my life. It’s no longer ‘new’. It’s definitely fun, but it’ now has its place in my life and I know how to make my hair shine and dance and it’s great. Actually, I realized I’ll be 3 years natural in two months. I’m smiling now that I think about it because I can see my face now sitting in that chair. I remember how I felt, I remember the uncertainty and anxiety of my hair falling to the floor and the buzz of the razor. I also remember loving the little curls as they sprouted from my scalp. I remember the ease of wash days and the way I checked my length at certain points, always surprised by its progress.
My hair is now well past my chin and past my collar bone. I know it’s time for a trim with the number of fairy knots I encounter but… at the same time… I’m so happy by how comfortable I am with my hair. With myself. I’ve come quite a ways from my days of buying hair relaxer at London Drugs, putting on my gloves and getting to it. I dreaded each occasion but was happy once it was done. But it never lasted. I’d be right back there 10 weeks later, my scalp burning, my hands covered to protect them from the chemicals and I know I’m in a better place now. I know my hair and scalp are thanking me and I know this is me. Unashamed, free, me.
Scrolling through this blog his work captured my attention especially when I came to his Afro Series. Adebanji Alade is a talented artist. His blog covers a lot of his work from sketches to paintings, architecture and bridges to candid shots of people on the bus, or sketching photos. It’s worth scrolling through his blog. It may surprise and inspire you.
His afro series is what made me stop. There are more to look at on his site.
AFRO XXVII – Adebanji Alade
AFRO XXVII – Adebanji Alade
I don’t know what I expected…. so I mean…. I’ll take it. I got length. Defined curls? Nope. But I shouldn’t have expected that. I have decided upon Curlformers. I’m going to get the cheaper version and I am going to suffer through sleeping on them. I will let you know when that happens. In the meantime, here are some pics for your amusement 🙂
Just thought I would post a little something about natural hair, mostly the things I could go without. It goes without saying, my hair is my friend. However, like all friends there are always a couple of things that bug me about it.
1. Tired arms: Natural girls must have crazy biceps with all the work we do up there. Coils and twists, detangling, braiding, massaging that scalp and so on. Holy wow do my arms get tired spending so much time up there.
2. Greasy ears: anyone? Or is this just me. Y’know when you’re working that coconut oil through your strands and you notice the tops of your ears got some of it? Blah, not a fun feeling. Gotta take care of that.
3. Knots: Naturally.
No one has asked to touch my hair so far. Well, one person, but she was a friend so I didn’t feel bad saying no. hah! And then one friend who I haven’t seen in a while gave me a hug and complimented my hair then said: I’d ask to touch it but I know you hate that. And I was like, you know it! I appreciate it. I think what bugged me a lot was when people would ask to touch my brothers’ hair. I think I was a little protective but it really annoyed me. I wonder if he still gets that?
That’s all I’ve got so far. And also, I think I have the name for my fro!!!!
ROCCO! (Raw-coh). The name may change as he grows into a full afro. My TWA didn’t have a name so now my Medium-Sized Afro will henceforth be named Rocco.
From the blogs and vlogs I’ve looked at, I have found some ladies out there have a name for their crown. From Princess to Lola.. Got me thinking… When I do my hair there are definitely times where I am working knots out with my fingers and thinking ooh my god, HAIR, what is your problem? Times like these I think it would be more than appropriate to have a name.
There’s something about this hair. This hair that hasn’t been completely figured out. This hair that is being tamed and teased. This hair that needs tips and tricks and an insider’s knowledge. This hair that grows up and out. Defying gravity. It feels like a personality to its own. And because none of our curls are the same, like us, why not give it a name?
I am going to bestow a name on my fro. I think it will come to me when I am in the midst of detangling. I’ll let you know 😉