Pursuit of Natural

life, levity, & the pursuit of natural


6 Comments

Cover Your Hair At Night

atNight.png

If you get a full night’s sleep (that’s a big If, I know), that’s nearly 3000 hours a year your hair is subjected to friction and stress. It will take its toll and undo all the hard work you put into caring for your hair.

I should know. I never saw any need to wrap my hair with anything. It seemed so extra. Until one night I went to bed on a clean pillow, and the next morning I woke to a horror scene. Broken hairs everywhere. Not just one or two, but all over my pillow case.

That sent me straight to DEFCON 1. I promptly cut up an old shirt and sewed it into a bandana, as if my survival depended on it. By the time I went natural, I was not playing around. Got that mid-sleep sixth sense to tug my wrap back on when it slips off, because these hairs are staying on my head.

The PSA here is sweet dreams are made of bandanas, satin scarfs, bonnets, durags–or whatever you use. They are essential. Cover your hair at night.

 

How do you protect your hair at night? What’s your night time routine? Share below in the comments. And if you’re a fan of The Pursuit, subscribe! Like this post, share with your friends, and follow me @edinPON.

Advertisements


Leave a comment

When I Thought New Growth was Reversion

Ya’ll.

Back in my relaxer youth, I believed that since my hair wasn’t growing, I couldn’t possibly have any new growth, and my puffy roots were not new, but rather old and reverting. Up was down.

I simultaneously believed if I combed my hair upside down for 500 strokes a day, like a white girl surely would, said permanently -stunted hair would magically reach Rapunzel-level greatness. Up was down.

Contrary to the old saying, that ish is not blissful.

It is damaging. Like my hair piled up in my wastebasket, because I didn’t know it was all breaking off at the point where relaxed ended and texture began. Like when I wasn’t even ten years old and I noticed I couldn’t feel my hair reaching down the back of my neck anymore. And when the only memory I had of my pre-relaxer hair was as a three-year-old posing for my birthday pics in a blue hair bow and a big, lush, perfectly spherical, picked out fro.

Ignorance, my friends, robs you of agency and hope. Because if Black hair didn’t grow, what could I do about it? Nothing. It was all predetermined. I was doomed to have “eaten up” hair for the rest of my life. That hopelessness is what kept me going back every six weeks, desperate for a chemical to “fix” what I could not. And if I missed a treatment? Totally unwearable. Creative styling? What’s that?

I have to laugh looking back, because otherwise it can be a real bummer how little I knew about not only how my own hair worked but also how all those chemicals were altering it. But you and I know better now. We are no longer ignorant. We read and watch each other and educate ourselves, master our regimens and help our hair flourish. We learn and continue to grow.

Ignorance is not bliss, but knowledge most definitely is power.

Bye!

You still got questions? Hit the comments.