One day, when I was in high school, I straightened my hair (just for a change of style). My track coach came up to me and said “Oh wow Mo’ can I touch your hair?!” I was kind of feeling myself so I told her she could.
In less than 30 seconds she ruined my self image. “Whoa! It’s so soft. I never would have guessed your hair was so smooth! It usually looks like old straw!!!”

I began to hate my hair. I would iron it, and relax it, and do anything I could to change what I was born with. Nothing was good enough all because of what some old white lady said about my hair.

It took me forever to understand my worth after that day. I began to wear my hair “curly” again but it was so dead and burnt from all the things I did to it. It felt pointless to try.

Thankfully, one day I woke up feeling different. Something told me to make a change. I went to the salon and chopped all of my hair off. It was the scariest yet most important day I had in a long time.

On that day, I vowed to never let anyone tell me what makes me beautiful. My hair and my culture and my SKIN are distinct. I’d never change 💕