Why my edges aren’t laid ….

And frankly, I’m not sure why they should be!  I’m not my hair. I’m not defined by my edges. Edge control or gel promenade won’t make me “Becky with the good hair.”  It won’t make me less black, less conscious, less accepted. Or perhaps it may, but only in the eyes of those girls who have absolutely nothing better than to be interested in my edges, which are just that, freaking edges. Only to those who perhaps deep down are grappling with their black identity, with the fact that part of their being black is defined by their hair.


I’m a prodigal daughter; returning to the ways of my natural locks, crucial in these times of black awareness and my black identity.  As I traverse the world of weaves, wigs and braids, it is a journey which has left me awakened. I’m happy being natural because somehow, although I don’t have the “good hair,” I have “good hair.” If I didn’t, I’m sure my self-awareness would be just as strong but I know deep down, I’d still be struggling with my need to affirm my blackness in these troubling times.

Does my hair define me, absolutely not!!!  In fact, one of my stoutest supporters of my natural hair is my partner who constantly reaffirms my view that BLACK IS BEAUTIFUL, including black hair. My need for extensions and braids are just a natural part of my personality – the need for constant change and growth. I love the flexibility of changing my looks. The freedom  to choose the difference between long hair, short hair, natural hair, blond hair, red hair, jet black hair, amongst many others. I’m in love with my hair, and it’s always good hair.


imageWhere the good haired Becky at???


A few pics with different hair …


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