September 20, 2016 - 23:15
As I sit here writing this post, Im sitting with all my roomates, who are black students, in the BCC. The BCC stands for the Black Cultural Center, which is basically a house dedicated to Professor Ira Reid, Haverford's first black professor. Of all the spaces I've lived in, including boarding school dorms, this has been the most comforting to me. It honestly feels like home.
For example, I just took my braids out and I have my natural hair out now. I don't typically wear my natural hair out. I actually just made the decision to go natural about a year ago. I stopped perming my hair and I cut all of the permed hair off, this is otherwise known as the big chop and it felt very liberating. However, I hadn't really found a space where I felt as if my hair would even be appreciated and accepted. That's why I automatically resort to protective styling like braids, weave, crotchet, etc. It's protective in the sense that it helps my hair grow, but more protective that it lets me hide a little. However, being able to take my hair out in front of one of my roommates and really good friends was really comforting. The only other people to ever see this process is my family and friends that I have invited into my home a lot (the number is 3).
I say all of this to show that I'm very protective of showing my true and full self. I wasn't always accepted. Not to sound corny, but when I was younger I was bullied and picked on, a lot of times because of my hair. And then when I went to boarding school, I stood out because of my hair. So many girls who lived in the dorm couldn't understand how my hair could be at my shoulders one day and then down my spine in so many different braids the next. Even at home I've felt excluded or hurt because of my hair. I remember one time I went to visit my grandmother, Bessie, and before she even said hi to me, she pointed out to everyone that my hair was not done. It's so important to the identify and growth of black girls.
But something different happened tonight once all the braids were out (which is slightly one of the reasons why I'm taking so long with this post). I walked outside and felt normal. Everyone is sitting in our house now and studying together and laughing and joking and I feel normal. I feel seen. I feel heard. I feel like me. With all my hair out and abundant. With all of my curls, kinks, nappiness, and coils. I feel present.