Children are honest.. Way too honest
Last night when I was putting my daughter to bed she told me she didn't like my hair this way. She is 8 and she is honest. Same child that cried at the thought of me coloring or cutting my hair when she was tiny, cause she was afraid she wouldn't know I was her mama. My hair has always been the same.. Always long and straight. For as long as I have had hair. I remember crying anytime my mom would snip the ends because she always cut off more than she promised she would. I would get so mad and not talk to her for hours. I have always hid behind my hair, it's my comfort zone. I was in my late 20's before I actually let someone other than my mom cut it. I didn't cry afterward, but I wanted to. She asked again this morning, why I did this to my hair. It hits me in the stomach. That question that everyone is wondering and only she is honest enough to ask. I guess the answer is simple and complicated all at the same time. Throughout my adulthood I have allowed relationships to mold me into who I wasn't.. I needed to be alittle less loud, a little less funny, a little less hippie, a little more republican, a little less or more of who I wasn't, and when relationships fail as they always do when you aren't being true to yourself, I always came back to this person. Me. The real me. The raw me. The best version of myself for myself. I like this person and this person has always wanted dreads. I reassured my daughter that they will get better. That she needed to be patient with me and I needed to be patient with them.
