(c) 2023 Yolonda D. Coleman
As much as I enjoy driving myself around, I love riding shotgun on long-distance trips. Put me to sleep while driving me to a vacation spot so I can awake to a nice stretch. On an autumn ride from Boston, I decided to stay awake and double-strand twist my damp hair. My boyfriend, at the time, made the drive from MA to MD in eight-hours flat. Even if there were potholes, he missed them in his Toyota 4Runner. My hands were steady and the ride was smooth. I had Dale's red detangler comb and a jar of hair gel. I was in the process of "going natural" because I had sworn off relaxers and perms, for the moment. Twisting my hair was self-care at its best. I later learned that letting go is the best self-care for everyone.
In 2002, I started experiencing some scalp discomfort. I ignored the dermatologist's warning that hair loss would progressively get worse over time; I was given at least ten years until my "permanent part" would widen in surface area. I ignored the doctor's orders to wash my hair in cold water and to stop applying heat to my hair. In fact, in 2005, I got a relaxer and a color because I was likely mourning my mother's death and needed a new face; I was going for a black Cuban look. It apparently worked. My bone-straight bronze hair was a great contrast against my coffee skin. I was feeling myself a bit when I walked the strip in Miami. A local resident began speaking to me in Spanish. I was able to speak a bit, but I tapped out beyond regular pleasantries. The hair was doing its thing, but it came with a price. I couldn't keep up with the look, and my skin began to betray me like that of the speaker in Audrey Lorde's Hanging Fire.
Psoriasis, folliculitis, and eczema, were my enemies. It was the constant itching, cracking, and bleeding that sent me to seek medical attention; it was recommended that I get steroid injections, inflammation pills, etc. I neglected the appointments because, hey, I still had hair and was able to get the symptoms under control. I didn't go back to perming my hair, but I did flat iron the hell out of my follicles WITHOUT heat protection (didn't know). Over time, my thick hair became thin like tiny wires.
After giving birth in 2015, I experienced some postpartum hair loss. It was nothing major, so I thought. From time-to-time, my sorority sister, J9, blesses me with head massages before she plays in my hair. She always sets me up nicely. However, in 2016, she braided it, but I noticed there was a one-inch gap between each cornrow. "This can't be right," I looked at my reflection in the mirror while inspecting my hair. It was indeed a problem happening before my eyes. It was back to the doctor's office. This time, I saw a trichologist and was diagnosed with a condition called CCCA (Central Centrifugal Cicatricial Alopecia). I was going bald.
Geesh...the one thing that identified me in a crowd was cramping my style. I hid my hair loss behind wigs, wraps, and Kanekalon ponytails in public while feeling ashamed and embarrassed in private. There were silent tears, embarrassing moments, and times I hated looking at myself in the mirror. I can say now that I had some depressing moments, but my miracle child always affirmed me each morning.
"Mommy, you look like a princess. You're the most beautiful mommy in the world," he would say with innocent fawn eyes. His unconditional love pushed me out of my sadness; and when the band stopped playing at my pity party, I started to educate myself on natural ways to stimulate hair growth with essential oils and black soap shampoo. I took vitamin supplements as well as Dr. Melanye Maclin's Bellanurti products to work from the inside out. I shared my journey with my online sister-circle; and they secretly raised money for my new path to a healthier scalp. Once I had all my tools, I called my kitchen "The Lab". It's not just for cooking; it is for all kinds of creations that inspire joy. I began creating my own products for my hair and my skin. When the pandemic hit, I started growing some of my ingredients as well.
Although I was able to see progress with my hair, the areas that showed no growth were a source of frustration for me. I needed to free myself from negative memories attached to my hair. On what would have been Malcolm X's 94th birthday ('94 was an amazing year btw), my husband at the time, was kind to honor my request to shave all of my hair off. I mean Okoye from Black Panther off--full on baldhead small head off. It all had to go in order for me to start again. In order for me to truly realize, I am NOT my hair.
The liberation that came along with letting go was magical; it was like an instant relief from life's weight off my head, societal approval, judgment from nonconformity, and the pressure to be perfect. I had to learn to stop fitting into a mold and be the mold. I had to face the harsh reality that letting go of a few more elements were necessary in order for me to be a better version of the woman I was becoming--insecurities, fear of not being good enough, anxieties, and pride. Unfortunately, I even had to let go of my marriage--a mutual, amicable decision that began with a separation two years ago.
Growing as a result of letting go has been both a struggle and a most exhilarating experience. I learned to be gentle with myself as I prayed, kicked, and screamed in rotation; it is a daily process. Time is the only thing you can't get back; don't lose it by wasting it. LIVE and let your light shine. Losing my hair was a small inconvenience in comparison to losing my health and my sanity; I had to preserve both. Cutting off my hair allowed me to begin again...to see my full face. I learned to smile with no regrets. I saw me so I can now see me.
I am excited about all the things I've gained even through my losses. Freedom and peace are my currency. My hair did in fact grow back after having Sisterlocks installed. It is not the same mane as it once was, but it is what I am proud to call my own. I'm growing into a new woman with an edge that needs no baby hairs. The new antennas attached to my head make me alert as I pick up wavelengths that add to my life rather than tear away at my spirit. This time, I'm not going to just ride shotgun; I'm going to sit in the driver's seat when I see fit. This next chapter will be a nice ride.
I am excited about all the things I've gained even through my losses. Freedom and peace are my currency. My hair did in fact grow back after having Sisterlocks installed. It is not the same mane as it once was, but it is what I am proud to call my own. I'm growing into a new woman with an edge that needs no baby hairs. The new antennas attached to my head make me alert as I pick up wavelengths that add to my life rather than tear away at my spirit. This time, I'm not going to just ride shotgun; I'm going to sit in the driver's seat when I see fit. This next chapter will be a nice ride.
How will you grow in your next season? Please share. I want to know as you grow.
Love you! Mean it!
Yolonda Denise
If you're in the Charlotte, NC area, check out Karmelita Stevens for trichology services. https://bit.ly/hairrehab.
