It’s taken awhile for me to get the courage to say this but here is goes. “I don’t want your hair card.” I know your well meaning. I think you are just trying to help. It probably looks like I have no idea what I am doing with my daughter’s beautiful Congolese hair. You are right. I’m a slow learner, but I will ask for your help when the time comes.
I remember the first time I was given free hair advice. It was my first time out of the house since our twins and daughter came home. I knew I couldn’t leave my daughter yet, so I brought her and her sister along. I was nervous with the thought of a babysitter, but I would be back in an hour flat. My phone was broke as a joke and I was up for a new one. The last thing on my mind was my daughter’s hair. I was surviving, friends. I had 5 kids ages 7 and under who constantly wanted my attention. I was holding a child every hour of the day, and praying for strength and wisdom every minute. My daughters were instantly best friends, thank you God for bringing that relationship together. They dressed alike most everyday and were hopping around my local phone store, hoping people would think they were twins, only one of our daughters is black and the other is white. Kids are so darn innocent, aren’t they? That’s when it happened. I thought I was getting help with my new phone, when the beautiful woman helping me punched me in the stomach with her words. “I can tell you love your daughter.” Wait, what? Are we talking about my kids or my phone? “Her hair doesn’t look like you take care of it.” I couldn’t wrap my head around what she was saying. “It’s not just me, there is another woman in here who I can tell is giving her dirty looks, because her hair looks dry like you don’t take pride in it.” I was shaking. Did she say that to me? I proceeded to tell her that I put a spray in it and thought it looked curly. She assured me it didn’t look curly. I tried to listen to what she was saying to me about hair. I tried to make sense of it. I know she was trying to help. She wasn’t being mean or rude, but she was careless with her words. Then she tried to teach me how to use this new phone, but I couldn’t follow. I was so upset.
When all was over, I walked out and cried on the way home. I wanted to tell her that my daughter loved her hair. I don’t care if she thought it looked dry or not taken care of, my daughter loved it. I was just getting to know her. Her head was shaved for years. She wasn’t given the opportunity to grow her hair in the orphanage. She was so proud of her hair that she smiled big every morning when she saw it growing. What was I to do? Tell her, I don’t care how she likes her hair, it has to be done a certain way? I couldn’t say any of those things. I froze and was so mad at myself for not responding. It looks like you love your daughter? If you only knew how much I loved her. Oh my heart, I was just trying to hold on to my new life.
Fast forward two weeks, I had a friend call me and ask if I visited this phone store near us in the last couple of weeks. I was super confused, but said Yes, I had. She went on to explain that when she went to get a new phone a woman was asking her about her life. My friend explained that had two young children and was adopting a child currently. When the woman found out the baby would be black, her only comment was, “Promise me you will do her hair.” Then she said, “A woman with good intentions came in awhile ago dressing her two girls like twins, and her daughter’s hair was nappy.” My friend thought it could be me, because my girls love to dress alike. Anyway it was hurtful and embarrassing. I am positive the woman had no idea she was talking to one of my friends, but her words were hurtful.
I have certainly hurt people with my words, so I understand the reality of “meaning well.” It taught me a lesson. I talk a lot. I mean…too much. I must learn to hold my tongue. I have no idea what my neighbor is facing today, so my best bet is to be loving. And sometimes, my free advice, is better served just listening.
There were many more hair cards after that. I took our daughter many times to get her hair done, but every time she asked me to let it free. She didn’t like braids. They hurt her head. She didn’t like the way they looked. She loves hair bows and fancy headbands with all her hair free to show the world. So that’s why I won’t take your hair card. She gets to decide.
hischildrenfirst 