Retiring to Natural-A Hair Poem

Tried the long and wavy thing
the blow'd in the wind thing
the color blocks and side swept bangs
the sultry sassy and the smoothe
tried the just brush 'n' go
the half hour curling iron sessions
the so-called feminine look
tried the socially acceptable
non-threatening
easily employable
black girl feature softener
the head turner
thing

While underneath I suffered
blisters and scabs
hair receding to a perfect sized Sade
Armed with pencils, bobby pins, and soothing spray
to ease the pain in places hard to reach.

Waking up in the middle of the night to bang my itchy head
against the wall
or recruiting my boyfriend to hit me upside my head
as he does it reluctantly, thinking I'm some kind of freak...
he don't understand the reality of the black woman weave.

So I'm returning to me.
My natural roots.
Returning to coarse, dense curls
that mat up after washing.
Returning to hair that draws up, making a ponytail impossible.
Returning to twists out and bantu knots and afrohawks and braids
Returning to a look that is political whether I like it or not.
Returning to comments like, "You go, sista!" or
"What happened to your hair?"

Returning to redefining...
black beauty

The bad and the good
the real and the painfully unreal
and I don't knock anyone who
doesn't mind spending $$$ and 6 hours and such
getting processedsewnindyed and trimmed.
HAIR IS SELF-EXPRESSION; NOT SELLING OUT.

I was on that ride for a moment,
and oh what a fun ride its been.

But the time has come for me to place my money
and time on something more important.
And to believe in my own natural beauty to be
good and
....enough.