Highly Textured

Most of you already know I ADORE Latina magazine. (Am I Latina? No, not a drop. Lol.) I loved it even more when this month's issue arrived in my mailbox, complete with an essay on one Dominicana's story of her lifelong frustration with -- and then acceptance of -- her hair.

Of course I immediately wanted to share it with you guys, but Latina didn't publish it online. But with a little bit of sleuthing (gotta love being a journo) I found that the writer, Aliza Hausman (shown here in a picture from her wedding), shared it on her blog a few months back, before the magazine picked it up. (And now I'm combing through my own archives for mag-friendly material, hmmm....)

Anywhoo, check out Aliza's hair story here. She describes how her mother (and others) taught her how to hate her hair, and how she fought with it -- until her would-be husband showed her how to love it.

Came across this on YouTube just a few moments ago, and I was feelin' what she was saying. HARD.

Check it out and let me know your reaction. (A note: The special effects get a little trippy from time to time.)

As I mentioned in my first post, I am rocking a head of chemical- and color-free curls for the first time since I was a little girl. Now, I've been relaxer free since 2001, but, if my hair had a color story, it would be called "Taste the Rainbow."

It all started freshman year. Fresh on the campus at Howard, my crew consisted of five other ladies with eclectic personalities and even more eclectic tastes. Two of the girls closest to me -- Tara and Jazz -- were art majors, who'd already spent a considerable amount of time experimenting with their hair in high school.

It would take one trip to the beauty supply store on Georgia Avenue to get me and my bestie Shavon to experiment too. Tara introduced us to the semi-permanent color aisle, where brands like Adore and Clairol Jazzing jumped out at us. We soon learned that these products could color your hair -- without really coloring your hair.

Promptly, we each selected a color. Again, we each felt the need to have a "look." Jazz chose a vibrant purple rinse, while Shavon selected a more beginner-friendly burgundy shade. Tara knowingly picked up a red, as if she'd done this before -- because she had. I didn't know what to pick. Eventually, Tara selected a hot pink for my tresses.

We got back to the dorm and got to work. Now, while I knew a rinse wouldn't produce a drastic change, I had expected the results to be have a little more oomph than they did. After we washed, dried and flat-ironed (I was still pressing my hair back then), we peered at each others' heads, trying to make out the five-dollar colors we'd selected. We squinted, turned our heads, and directed each other into the light until someone exclaimed, "OOH! I see it! Okay, I see it now."

Two days later I was walking home from class as the late afternoon sun started to set behind me. At the top of the hill by Founder's Library, I ran into a friend, Terri. We exchanged hi's, and then...

"Omigod! Your hair is pink!"

It is? I thought to myself. Then I peered up over the top of my glasses to look at a lock that was hanging freely in my face. The sun had caught it at just the right angle, revealing a bright fushia cast over my brown-black mane.

Oh wow. You CAN see it.

I smiled. "Yeah," I said nonchalantly to Terri. "My hair's pink. Colored it a few days ago."

She smiled back. "That is SO cool."

I walked home, grinning to myself.

Score.

Whoo hoo! I'm finally here!

Hey guys. After months of quietly lurking and blog-stalking any- and everybody with something to say about natural hair, I finally decided to start a blog of my own. (There can never be enough natural hair blogs, right?) Of course, this is all too expected for my friends, since I have about 8,967 other blogs to begin with... but hey. I couldn't help myself. And I've never claimed to have restraint anyway. Besides, with more and more of my close girlfriends going natural, I felt like this was the best way to share the journey with them.


So anyway, quick intro -- My name's V, and I've been natural since 2001. I have no epic, soul-wrenching transitioning story to tell -- basically, I became natural by default. 2001 was the year I started college at Howard University, a four-hour drive from my home -- and my hairdresser -- in Pittsburgh. Being the overly-cautious 18-year-old that I was, I refused to let anyone put relaxer in my hair except Weavin' Steven, of "Top Model," "Tyra Show" and "Split Ends" fame. (Yup, that was my hairdresser -- but back then he was just Steve Ross from Latrobe... without the grill. Love him.)

Anywhoo, I saw these adorable little waves starting to grow out of my scalp. "This is cute," I thought. "And they're not hard to straighten." Eventually, I learned how to coax a textured, wavy/curly look out of my entire head, relaxed ends and all. The secret -- Hawaiian Silky Gel Activator.

Omigod, horrible, right? I had a little companion bottle of sheen spray too. How embarrassing is that? But that's all I knew of creating curls back then. So every morning, before class, I wet my hair, applied the gel in sections, and blow-dried for this crazy, wavy-curly look. (I don't think I'll ever forget the scent of the process.) It sounds nuts, but the girlfriends unanimously decided that this was my "look" -- we all had one at the time.

(The girls and I right before one of our nightly jaunts to the 18-and-over club -- and me, complete with my hair, hoops, and "tribal" name necklace.)

Fast foward almost eight years and countless cream, gel and color applications later. I still have my natural texture, but for the first time since freshman year, I have my natural color too. (Seriously, Feria should give me a check for all the boxes I've used over the years -- but that's whole 'nother post). And since I'm finally getting a feel of my TRUE textures, since they change with any chemical processing, I'm celebrating -- by finding new ways to style, new ways to nourish and sharing it all on a new blog.

So... welcome! Have a seat and enjoy!

-- V.