I’m a proud black woman. I respect my roots. I appreciate the hard work of my ancestors and all who died in sacrifice so that I can have a chance.
When I decided to “find” myself, it was college. To this day, I’m still growing and creating myself. Everyday I look in the mirror, I see cocoa skin, a broad nose, full lips, dark eyes, kinky hair, curves and scars from the birth of my son. Some days I feel high in my element, but other days not so much.
The battle of acceptance battles with American beauty and Black beauty. I need to conform. I need wear straight hair via relaxer or weave. My kinky roots are considered nappy by blacks and not “professional” by others but how? This is the strands as they grow from my head just like any other woman that has natural straight or wavy hair. So, I only look my BEST when it’s pressed or long down my back?
Now, I can care less about what techniques other black women do to maintenance their hair. I encourage healthy routes regardless of the choice. Even women, play on each other when it comes to beauty. Team this, team that, but getting played by the same system and men.
What you Don’t see when you look at me: A woman of Faith, a Wife, a Mother, a sister, a friend, a Scholar, a woman who battles Multiple Sclerosis and works hard everyday. I also respect and encourage others to do better and find better in themselves.
So I ask you, Ain’t I enough?