Box Braids, Pomades, and The Art of Scalp Scratch

Is it possible to  fall in love with your natural hair all over again even though you’ve been natural forever? I unapologetically am--every spongy tresse, silky curl and thick lock  bouncing around my house.  Haircare and grooming is a continuous ritual in my home but when you’re running a household, repetition can fall   by the wayside of monotony-and getting the thing “done” takes precedence over turning the moment into a pleasurable experience.  Over the course of this past winter  I’ve been reminded to lean more into the experience through slowing down and being more intentional with my family’s haircare rituals.

It all started when our local hair braider went M.I.A without notice-its always a drag for me when I have to find a new beautician cause I’m very particular about who is touching I and my family’s hair, skin and nails-grooming is an intimate art where people have access to your dna, so yes its that serious for me; and like any relationship theres a vetting process, so once I align with a particular beautician I'm a loyal client no chair hopping-Im old school with my patronage like that.

Having no interest in what the fingerful of other braiders in this small town had to offer, I got in my diy bag. I'm no stranger to extensions; they've just never been my forte.  My skills have always been in styling natural hair and making wigs.  So the few times I did do my daughters box braids I was self conscious because I didn’t deem them professional grade.  I always could part my ass off though (and without braiding gel) so them parts gonna be crisp everytime-but that seamless blend between the natural and braiding hair was my challenge. 

 When I got back from the beauty supply store after making my declaration, I definitely questioned my choice- but I was in too deep cause I already gave my daughter my word, so I proceeded to get my girl’s crown right.  But something different happened this time.  When I tell you my hands started bussing those braids down-it was like my fingers had a mind of their own.  I was braiding hair like I’ve been doing it forever.  Seeing my   practice pay off was definitely a win.  I found myself relaxing into a calm confidence that shifted the energy from feeling like I was scrambling to get my daughter’s hair done, into the familiar matrilineal beauty rituals many of us  melanated women grew up with-whether it was at the kitchen table, Saturdays at the stylist/salon or a blend of both depending on the occasion.  

In between our chitchat, giggles, and sharing snacks as my daughter served me the latest tea at school, I reminisced on the days when I did her hair as a little girl with the classic bobos, braids, and twisties s like my mother used to do on me-barrettes, clinking in unison as she ran around the playground with the neighbor‘s children or raced her brothers down the block to the F train.  I’m now beginning to understand what the elders experience; being in that liminal space of witnessing the unfolding of time through your children’s growth.  It’s like I woke up one day and my daughter was swooping her edges, requesting an iPhone for her birthday and text harassing me while at school to” bring her chipotle for lunch”.

Braid after braid the thoughts and memories flooded back to when my cousins and I would scratch each other's scalp with a rat tail comb just for the pleasure of it- Scratch and grease, stimulate the hair follicle and feed the scalp, activate and anoint the crown. These ancestral practices are the regimens that created thick, healthy heads of hair.

I recalled the time in fifth grade when I got caught up in the “Just for Me” perm trend of the 90’s- cause I wanted to be like my friends and shake my organic buss down on the playground too.  It took three years before I returned to my natural. One day, frustrated at the new growth interfering with my slick ponytail, I realized how unhappy my hair was with the thin, damaged and unfamiliar state she was in- it motivated me to embrace the natural state of my hair again- I spent the entire eighth grade growing my perm out.  I kept it washed, conditioned and braided all year so by the time I started high school about 95% of my natural hair had grown back. I had my mother clip off the remaining permed ends and I was free again. This was my first chapter of returning to self -love after compromise. 

My parents had already laid a good foundation for healthy hair and I built on it from there.  After that comeback, my hair care routine throughout my teenage years was nothing short of pious. No matter what season I was going through I devoutly maintained my hair care.  Washing and deep conditioning every two weeks, hot oil treatment once a month, trimming ends quarterly. Wash and sanitize combs, picks and brushes once a week.  

I didn’t think much of it then, but when I look back, it was pioneering to be fully natural at a time (circa 2003-2008)  when most melanated millennial girls were still  being heavily targeted with western beauty standards.  There were virtually no girls in my high school who wore their hair natural outside of braids, kinky twists and the biracial girlies- most wore wig caps, sew in weaves and permed hair- I was ecstatic and eager to share when  classmates throughout the years  would come to me for pointers on starting their natural journey. I remind my younger self  how proud I am of the level of confidence and self awareness that she had back then.

  By the time  I graduated, the natural hair movement was budding and online forums like Nappturality began to pop up.  I feel like this is when the movement was at its most pure - melanated  women were on  legit  journeys of self  acceptance  and supporting one another through it.  It was organic; before corporate figured out how to manipulate our authentic evolution into dollars through “natural hair” companies, blogs and  youtubers marketing hair care lines that required fiftyleven products and 72 hour step hair regimens to go along with it-before textures and curl patterns were turned into a caste system deeming looser patterns/textures more desirable than others.

One of the few things that kept me grounded and embodied through the trying periods of transitioning into adulthood was hair and fashion. They helped me maintain a sense of self. When I hit my lowest these were the two rituals that started to slip.  I still maintained my daily hygiene and I definitely wasn’t stepping outside looking like a clown, but I stopped adorning myself and giving my hair the attention she was used to.  My outfits went from stylish and expressive to muted and casual; and my lustrous coils became dull and started to freeform lock because all I would do was wash, occasionally oil,  then tie it back up.  I suddenly didn’t want to touch my hair anymore, the joy of self-care I used to have now felt like a burden to follow through with.  When I did attempt to detangle my hair, my scalp would be so sore which made me even more reluctant to do it, putting me back into a cycle of a painful tangled head of hair.  Though I was still  high functioning and able to conceal my tangled hot mess under wigs, hats and pretty head wraps, it was clear that I was experiencing mental/ psychic disturbance.  I won’t go off tangent into the specifics of what I was going through at that time because it's multilayered and a whole topic within itself, but like all of my challenges it served me well and up’d  my ante as a spiritual practitioner.  

In the hair and beauty industry, the focus is always on external solutions-and yes to an extent what we  put on and  inside our bodies does affect it for better or worse- but what I've realized is that the actual “magic” in what is referred to as  “glamour magic” is the consistent, intentional, ritualized self care. Not to impress others but as an act of self love and devotion.  Reminding self that she should always come first.  This is what sustains and increases our beauty on a soul level-and it was ultimately glamour magic that helped me rebuild a stronger foundation of self-love each time that lesson showed up in my life.  That's why it is a staple in my spiritual repertoire.  It's also why I give a hard side eye to folk who have qualms with women who like to keep themselves looking beautiful and adorned.  Can vanity, superficiality, and evil intent hide behind aesthetics? Absolutely, beauty is globally used as a quiet weapon by government bodies and individuals alike to finesse others -but the divine feminine’s tools being co-opted for corporate interest and selfish gain doesn’t change the fact that beautification and self expression are important elements in not only personal self-esteem, but the preservation of cultural identity, heritage, harmony, and more importantly ancestral recognition, collective communication and coherence.

 Recently watching my daughter secretly build a vanity for herself after I set up mine reminds me that our daughters and female youth are paying close attention to how we show up for ourselves.  Our sons shouldn't be exempt from self care either-In a world where their  masculinity has been minimized and attacked, the last thing we should be doing is enabling  our boys  to be okay with being dusty, crusty and unkempt.  

Conclusively, we as Original people were never fly just  for fly’s sake. There is memory codex and wisdom encapsulated in the mother source of our geometry, patterns and styles; It is a language that can speak to all, but only her children can speak directly to her.  Highly imitated but never replicated- only her children have the permission, blessing and innate capacity, to carry and represent her image and likeness.