I Remember Blackness: The Power of Hair Salons

The first time I went to a hair salon I was 10.

Until then, I had gotten my hair done at my grandmother’s house over her kitchen sink and by her stove. What I remember the most is how every shade of Black and woman was there relaxed, cut, dyed, and rolled up. It was this place where I could…change.

After my first taste of going to a salon (and the breakdown I had in the stylist’s chair, because you know—being 10!), I looked forward to going! It was time with my mom, time away from my little brother and just to be…me.

I learned then—just like now—that when I take care of myself I can take care of other people! I noticed that Black women are thee most creative beings on Earth!

Not up for debate. Never. Not ever.

This place, in that space, I was taught three things which are life lessons now:

1.) I am worthy of being taken care of.

2.) I have the right to hold space wherever I am.

3.) Always ask for what you want.

There have been a succession of people to do my hair after Bobbi when I was 10. And only Black women have allowed my hair to grow, just like me.

But I still hate sitting under a dryer.

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