I detangled my hair with grim determination. “I will win this battle today even if I go bald in the process.” I thought, gnashing my teeth. Once the tangles were mindfully untangled, I looked up in the mirror. There was a halo of frizz around my head. I had read a meme somewhere which said something to the effect of those who have naturally curly or wavy hair, they are not doing well in this heat. They look like alpacas. That was me in front of the mirror, after 15 minutes of determined detangling. I was an alpaca. I sighed as I rubbed some argan oil to calm the frizz down.
I have written a lot about my hair and my love/hate relationship with it. I have worn it long for most of my life and also worn it very short for about 10 years. Since childhood I grew up not loving my hair. The standard set for little girls was ‘reshmi zulfein’ (silky straight hair) by media, shampoo companies, hair oil companies. My hair was the opposite. Thick, unruly (read wavy), frizzy. I tried hard to tame it. For years, I diligently straightened it to get the silky, straight sheen till I didn’t. One day, I was late for work. I washed my hair but didn’t have the time to dry it or straighten it. People at work stopped me to ask what I had done, it looked so lovely. It had naturally curled itself. That was the day I felt liberated. No more drying, no more straightening. I was going natural.
I still put a comb through my hair though. Lately, we are experiencing intense humidity in our area. And the frizz has been out of control, to say the least. One day, I did not comb my hair after washing it. I put some leave in conditioner, some argan oil and put my fingers through my hair. And I got compliments. “Your hair looks lovely.” What?? The more I let go, the better I look? 🙂
I write all of the above in jest, of course. I do take care of it, brush it before bed time. The point I am trying to make is, at the end of the day, I have reached a place where I feel comfortable with who I am.
My little cousin sent me a poem recently that truly resonated with me.
Blooming Bare
And after the tears had dried,
my vision and voice became clear.
From my darkest shadow pierced the purest light.
I found myself:
Bruised, beautiful, and bare
Stripped of every comfort
but clothed in truth.
Blooming where I was once broken.
– Morgan Richard Olivier
It is age? Is it grief? Is it a combination of both? But I feel myself evolve from my earlier insecure, self doubting self. I look at myself in the mirror these days and look beautiful in my own eyes. I don’t care about how others see me. When I apply kajol to my eyes, or put on lipstick, I do them for myself. I have learned the art of saying a polite but assertive ‘no’ to things I don’t wish to do. I don’t conjure up excuses any more. I simply say I don’t want to do that and hence, no, I will not. I have become politely assertive. My feelings are not hurt as easily. I have lowered my expectations from others, including my family. I mindfully practice kindness to others and myself. I practice empathy. Everyone is fighting their own battles, I try to remember that. If I like something I always comment on it. Life is short and people will remember how you made them feel. I try to understand the changing world around me by reading books. Books help me take a closer look at my implicit biases and act on them. They have been my best friends throughout this journey. They have taught me, entertained me, made me cry and laugh out loud. They have given me words that I needed to hear and find solace in the thought that I was not alone as I lived through dark times.
I was not just broken but shattered just 2 years ago. I don’t know if I am blooming but I am putting pieces of me together. Not brushing my hair may seem like letting myself go but it is quite the opposite really. In my case, it is coming together. It is realizing my worth which is not dependent on the norms set by society. It is the knowledge that I like the person I have become, wet, uncombed hair and all. 🙂
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