People might think why I’m I posting pictures of myself. Because you see my hair? Yes… even that is “political” It’s something I’ve blogged about, for years. It is something with a history. A negative history and horrible history. This type of hair in schools to this day is not allowed. In certain work places, It’s a no. Every part of my blackness has been spend (defending) what’s organic and natural. This is how it comes out of the head. It defies natural gravity. It’s a science… all on its own. And the Afro – hair – care industry is a multi billion dollar industry that no black persons control. Im here to teach blackness, and all it’s experiences.
The Africans call it a Crown. So that’s how we as blacks address it. The natural Crown. Placed there by God himself. We have this inability to see the natural crown as beautiful. By design, by systematic racism design. It can’t be compared but, it is… everyday and the lack is found wanting. We have to teach our children that this can’t be made fun off, in the school yard. This hair is not wrong! It never was. This hair is not unruly. It’s not ugly. This hair don’t have to hang down to our shoulders. Even though sometimes it can. It was designed like a ‘Crowning’. That’s how God wanted it.
Relaxing and weave is not natural for black little girls growing up, who was taught to believe unconsciously or consciously they’re ugly because the standard for them is white little girls. And white little dols. With straight hair… I rebuke it… with every fibre in me. Because I grew up a nappy headed barefoot little black girl… and if you look closely you’ll still see that little girl. Everything about us the world has made ‘fun’ off, mocked and has been made ‘wrong’. Every aspect of our being, somehow lacking. Striving for and to a betterment outside of our God given Self. So when Toni Morrison wrote The Bluest Eye… she wrote it for black little girls who look just like me. Who grew up believing, thinking, wondering if there’s ‘something wrong with us’
Tell your black daughters they’re special. That they’re beautiful 70 times 70 times a day just the way God created them. Because if you don’t… reinforce it, this world would show them, at ever turn the lie (how not so they are). It’s not about all little girls, right now… as this don’t happen to all little girls. It’s about Black Little Girls! And I need you to look at them little girls again. And marvel… at them. The Universe has not made a mistake with Her. She’s her own Standard. And for thousand of years from the first civilisations… this is how black little girl’s hair looked. And we celebrate it now, for all those centuries we couldn’t. For all those years we was not allowed too. There was once a law in colony of Louisiana; forbidding free and enslaved black African woman to wear their hair out, like this. And for the rest of their lives they had to cover their crown. Religion played its ugly part too. All domineering Patriarchy systems, enforcing laws, unpon us. And the first thing they did on that wretched devil slave ship was shave the head of my sisters with a blunt blade. The first thing they did was shave the head of the slave wet nurse. First thing they did was remove our Crown after they captured the African. Let that sink in and think to yourself why would they do that, if it is not to remove all our special identification from our connection to our God, Self and our holy Spirit… if (All Lives Mattered)?
This plays a part in our mental enslavement too. So if you have black daughters. Biracial daughters… with black Afro hair you have your task set out for you. You would fully understand what I’m talking about right here. Pray upon her head… love upon it… just like her brown skin, her hair marks her identity to her higher Self. Diary.