I twisted my hair last night. It felt so good to sit down and weave my fingers through my tresses. My slightly moistened hair smoothed and curled with the weight of the shea butter on the tips of my fingers. My hands flipped over and under, swinging my hair to either side of my head. The comb slides slowly through my strands. Small box parts in my scalp create diamond patterns. Soft black ropes dangle at my cheeks and neck. And for a moment, I lose myself in my kinky, napptural hair.

Two strand defined twists is my favorite style. It was one of the first styles I learned. I guess the reason I like doing my hair is that it is a symbol of a new phase in my life. Almost 3 years ago, I cut my relaxed ends and began styling my own hair. This was my celebration of my adulthood. At 21, I gave up the negativity surrounding nappy hair… I gave up my grease, thin combs, and kits for a K-Cutter, Denman brush and a pick. This was the beginning of facing my insecurities. My mom lamented for months (she’s now a proud napptural), my aunts asked when I would “do something” to it, and my aunts thought I was rebelling. It wasn’t rebellion, rather embracement of a true part of me. I learned to take care of and nurture that part of me, and for once, I was proud. I guess some say it’s just hair, but it is so much more to me. My hair is a salute to my strength will, and determination. I hope to use that same strength to conquer my food dependency and self depreciation. So, India- you may not be you hair, and neither am I, but my hair is definitely an important part of me!