More on Aging

There is so much to be said about aging. The other day I bought some shampoo that is supposed to brighten up my gray hair. It takes the yellow out and makes it bright white or silver. I've heard about this stuff for years and decided to give it a try. I'd given up the fight with my hair long ago. I used to color it. I would leave the color in for 2 hours and still the gray hair would be there laughing at me. At one point I colored it and permed it. I stopped that when I woke up to find a curler on the pillow with all of the hair still in it and a big bald plug at the back of my head.

Hair is such a big deal. A woman's crowing glory. I remember that in high school is when I first went natural. My mother and grandmother were appalled. I still had perm in my hair and I would use drinking straws as rollers to curl my hair. Swimming class was a nightmare for the hair. Not to mention the fact that I still can't really swim. That's another story.

I was in the Black Student Union in high school, we wore our dashikis and pumped Black Power fists, and grew out our naturals. That's what we called them before we called them afros. Since my afro was a symbol of my political leanings, I felt like a sell out years later when I decided to perm my hair again.

I wore the perm for several years until that plug came out. I copied Oprah's hair styles. Then I decided I wanted to have long AND natural hair. Dreadlocks. I had to wait patiently for my teeny weeny afro (TWA) to grow out long enough to start the dreadlocks. My play-niece promised to twist my new locks for me. I badgered her every time I saw her asking, "Is my hair long enough yet?" My niece used black mustache wax on my new locks. It held them together well, but black rubbed off on everything. It did cover the gray though. Again my mother was appalled.

She got used to them over time. She said they reminded her of Shirley Temple curls. That was almost enough to make me cut them off. Instead I practiced patience as I was advised by others with long beautiful dreadlocks. I asked every brother or sister I saw with long locks, "How long did it take to grow them that long?" They would answer, "Patience, sister, patience." The very same words from every single one.

People feel the need to touch my locks and make comments, some of them rude. One person, a perfect stranger, said to me, "Your locks are cute at that length. You shouldn't let them grow too long, though." As I was in a mellow mood (we were in the restroom at a nightclub), I said with a smile, "I'm going to grow them to the ground."

I believe I was fired from a job because of my locks. I worked at an all white private prep school in St. Louis County. My hair really concerned some of the parents and donors. They printed out my final check and asked me to leave.

A few years ago. I had the occasion to shave off my locks completely. Chemo made that necessary. The hubby shaved my head for me. One of the most intimate experiences ever. He shaved his head in solidarity. (I love him so much for that.) Having a bald head made maintenance super easy. I only had to decide which hat to wear each day.  After treatment my locks came back, but not as lush and full as they used to be. And there was a whole lot more gray. Hence the gray brightening shampoo.

The hair fight is over. I am letting my hair do what it wants.