Source: lipstickmanual.com

“You know better than to be walking around with your head lookin’ like that.”

“Why do you want your hair to look all wild and wooly like that?”

 “You can’t go up there with them White folks lookin’ like that.”

“You need to comb that mess.”

“Why don’t you straighten it and part in on the side and tuck it under?”

Nice little drive-by of insults, huh? Makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, right?

This is what I came home to on summer breaks from college. Back then, I was a cowardly little thing, so, to avoid the ridicule I would either pull my afro back into a tight neat bun or just give the fight all the way up and straighten my hair until I got back to my safe haven of self-expression: college.

The comments didn’t bother me as much as the fact that this outright dislike for my natural hair was coming from the mother who expressly forbade my sister and me to get relaxers in our adolescence. Now, in my adult years, they were scolding my exploration of my God-given, naturally-grown kinks. Er? My mother had a huge afro in her twenties! Either way, my full head of curly hair wasn’t something she wanted to see out and about.

Let me back up to the 6^th grade. I hated my hair. My mother kept my hair blown out in three or four braids and she stood by her decision to keep my hair chemical-free, citing complete baldness as a sure thing if I got a relaxer at that age. To an 11-year-old who is getting bullied every day by the other little black girls – all of whom HAVE relaxers – those lectures went in one ear and right out the other. I cried. A lot. I changed my hair at the bus stop. I developed a detrimentally frequent relationship with handfuls of thick, slick grease and any form of intense direct heat I could get my hands on: an old school, set-it-on-the-stove-till-it-smokes hot comb; a rusted, gold curling iron that left more burn marks on my ears and neck than it straightened my hair; a blow dryer with the standard fine-toothed comb attachment that when raked through my thick kinks, murdered my scalp, but left my hair LAID. At least until I’d sweat or take a bath. Then those little curly Qs would pop up all over in a frizzy mess. At one point with angry and frustrated tears in both eyes, I grabbed a severely rusted pair of industrial-sized seamstress’s scissors, sat behind the couch and cut off my wildly frizzy bangs, right down to the scalp. My mom freaked, but still no relaxer.

Granted, I know the ‘no-relaxers’ policy saved my hair and maybe it was easier for my mother to fire up a hot comb or plug in a blow dryer, but what was I learning in that process? Though she didn’t believe in putting a relaxer in my head, she felt that straight hair was and is the “right” way to wear my hair. I took this standard and internalized it. Yes, I was told by my mother that I had ‘good hair,’ but if my hair was ‘good’ then why wasn’t a pony puff or full ‘fro ever acceptable? Without realizing it, for years I believed that my freshly washed frizzy curls were “nappy,” ugly and in need of manipulation. Not because my mom TOLD me they were but because she SHOWED me they were by praising the “straighter” versions of my hair and shunning the curlier. Straighten it, part it on the side and curl it under. THAT’S the ticket.

In the end, I was more comfortable in my natural hair at college than at home. I didn’t want to fight my hair anymore. I wanted to embrace it. I wanted to make it work–and I did. My ‘fro became my trademark so much so that my friends and the PROVOST OF THE UNIVERSITY called me “Puff Puff.” It was hilarious back then, but it speaks volumes now. Something I had feared and deemed ugly – others loved and embraced. The old slavery time stigma of ‘good’ hair versus ‘bad’ hair had reached into my family and I never even recognized its grasp until now. Just a few weeks ago my sister, mother and cousin made me relax their hair. I might have been less reluctant to do it if I was certain that they had no complex about their own hair and that they just didn’t have the time to dedicate to natural hair care, but each of them sees their natural hair as ugly in some sense. That saddens me, but I’ve accepted that not everything is for everybody. Straight hair is no longer my standard of beauty. Well-maintained hair is, no matter what that looks like. I see the beauty now in what my hair naturally is. However, I’m careful not force my new views of black hair on my family. All I can do is what fits me.

The straight, “side part under” may have been the safe thing to do back in the day, but today is a new day and I am bold. I’m redefining ‘beautiful,’ ‘acceptable,’ and ‘correct,’ for myself. Does my mother like it? Not always. Every now and then she’ll tell me to “Do something with that mess,” and I shrug it off. I’ll keep my twist outs. I got a taste of freedom and I’m not going back. No shade to the faithful creamy crack users – do you. But for me? I had to lose the hold my family’s warped perception of black hair had on me and interpret my hair and my image for myself. The feeling is unparalleled and so is the growth – both internally and atop my head.

La Truly is a Natural-haired, late-blooming Aries with lots to say. Her writing is powered by a lifetime of anecdotal proof that awkward can transform to awesome and fear can cast its crown before courage. Armed with the ability to purposefully poke fun at herself La seeks to encourage thought, discussion and positive change. Check out her thoughts/jokes/rants on Twitter: @AshleyLaTruly and her young women’s empowerment blog: www.hersoulinc.com.

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From TheGrio.com

“Nappy Headed-Hos.”

It was five years ago today that the particularly nasty barb spewed from the mouth of radio shock jock Don Imus and entered the national lexicon. In the days that followed, there were threats of boycotts and calls for firings as advertisers from American Express to Proctor & Gamble Co. fled Imus in droves.

MSNBC announced it would no longer simulcast Imus in the Morning, and after days of protestsCBS Radio eventually relented, dropping the hammer on Imus and banishing him from the airwaves, albeit temporarily.

In the middle of that storm were the Rutgers Scarlet Knights, a team comprised of eight African-Americans and two whites who were still reeling from losing in the title game of the NCAAWomen’s Tournament when they found themselves the subjects of scorn by a man they didn’t know who spoke to a national audience of millions.

In its wake there were press conferences, mea culpas and lawsuits. Five years later, Imus is back on the air, setting up shop at Cumulus-owned WABC in New York. Imus has had theoccasional racial dustup since, but nothing approaching that grand misstep that was the Rutgers basketball team.

To find many of the girls, now women, you’d have to scour the corners of the globe. Several members of the team, including Rutgers team captain Essence Carson (New York Liberty), Kia Vaughn (New York Liberty), Matee Ajavon (Washington Mystics) and Epiphanny Prince(Chicago Sky), reached the pinnacle of their sport, playing in the WNBA.

For the complete story, visit TheGrio.com.

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We know black women are serious about their hair and now those who are rocking natural styles don’t have to limit their hair care knowledge to trial and error. The one-day Nappiology Expo in North Texas aims to teach women of color about the flexibility of unprocessed hair.

More than 1,000 African American women are expected show up for the event on Nov. 5 in Hurtst, Texas. The three-year-old conference is the brainchild of De Johnson, a mother who stopped using relaxers when she became pregnant 21 years ago. Just four years ago she stopped pressing her hair altogether and started wearing it “nappy.” This is the third year the conference has been in existence.

“When I started doing research on styles and products, I learned that there were so many more options for how I could wear my hair than I had ever imagined,” she told the Dallas South News. “It is the mission of Nappiology to educate, embrace, and celebrate natural beautiful African American hair and our nappy roots.”

According to consumer spending and market research firm Mintel, in the last two years chemical hair relaxer sales have dropped by 12 percent. Overall, black hair care products represent a $10 billion industry.

“Hair care companies and local stylists are finding that the natural hair care business is a fast growing segment of the hair care market,” De Johnson said. “One-third of our Nappiology members spend more than $300 per year on natural hair care products.”

by Selam Aster

Clutch magazine recently asked its readers: Should we retire the word nappy once and for all or can we redefine it by embracing our roots and deciding that they’re beautiful?

It’s a question sparked by the unexpected and pleasantly honest tweet by Rihanna this week. The songstress responded to a fan’s tweet that questioned why Rihanna’s hair appeared “nappy” on the cover art of her new single. Rihanna tweeted back : “cuz I’m Black Itchbay!!!!”

The songstress’ reaction was strong, but very much needed. Why does Rihanna or any other black woman need to defend the texture of her hair? The “fan” certainly meant to deliver a hateful message with that tweet, since the cover art shows Rihanna looking as fabulous as usual. Rihanna was defending herself but she also stood up for many Black women when she reacted in the way that she did, much to the displeasure of her publicist I’m sure.

But back to Clutch’s original question on the matter. In terms of reclaiming the word, that’s going to be a hard feat. Essentially, there’s nothing wrong with being nappy but it’s hard to say the word, or write the word, and not communicate a tone of judgement. That’s the problem with connotation – altering the general spirit of a word is a long road.

So while there’s nothing wrong with being nappy, I propose using a different word to describe our unique grade of tresses. Course doesn’t have the same connotation – it’s more of a technical description that stylists use. But I’m not saying that’s the best description either. I think “natural” is a word we’re using often since it’s much more of a relevant term in the Black community when it comes to hair and folks know what you’re referring to when you say your hair is natural.

But let’s not stop there. Why don’t you weigh in – what do you think would be a better word to replace nappy?

Comment or tweet @atlantapost, #newnappy