Willyrex vía instagram: “Wohooo! Despues de ir a España y que todas las peluqueras de mi barrio estuvieran cerradas por vacaciones… He ido a mi peluquera, la mejor de Los Angeles, y unica que conozco xD Ha hecho que me encuentre con mi vieja amiga “frente” que llevaba semanas cubierta de pelo. Bueno, me dejo de tonterias, a pasarlo bien ✌️”
Okay, so after watching a recent video/documentary I posted I had to give my little two cents on the matter of bad hair vs good hair or pelo malo vs. pelo bueno. Growing up I always had naturally curly hair. The older I got the harder it was for my mother to manage. Being of mixed race, Mother (Hispanic), Father (African American), my hair was perceived differently across the board. Growing up in Germany I definitely stood out (military parents) with my curly do. But honestly, the reason my mom decided to relax my hair is because it just got to the point to where it was not manageable and living in a country where the population of POC where minor and finding a hairdresser was difficult. So of course, after moving to the states it kind of stuck to remain getting relaxers. It wasn’t until my junior year of college I decided, “okay enough is enough.” I couldn’t deal with the god awful smell of relaxers, the pain, not being able to scratch the day of. I thought to myself, “all of this to get straight hair?” Why are we so focused on making our hair bone straight to fit into some white ideology? Why is there such a negative connotation with curly/kinky hair? I’ve realized when it comes to my dating life, I get approached more by men when my hair is long and straight compared to when I wear it curly. It’s like beauty = straight, curly= untamed… Some people refuse to admit that they have African blood running through their veins, but they’re living in denial. Where else would their hair have come from otherwise? And yet so many of us spend money on strong, damaging chemicals to relax our hair to look “beautiful.” Why can’t we be beautiful just the way we are?
I got a new haircut last night! I was really craving a change since this is an important year for me. The ringlets are a bit tighter this morning in the humidity and I’m liking it very much; it makes me look like Jimmy Page on the cover of Outrider, and I have a soft spot for that album.
Whenever I get my hair blown out I wonder how you straight-haired’s manage; it’s hot under this droopy mange! But it’s all good. Years have passed since the pulling, pain, shame and strain, and these days my mane is grateful that it gets to wear an occasional party mask. And I, for one, love playing dress-up.