I remember the exact day that I decided to wear my hair naturally. It was a Sunday like any other. Two hours spent washing and detangling and when I finally came up for air, I looked in the mirror and thought, “Sod it. I’m not gonna stay here for another two hours, drag the extension cord closer to blow-dry my hair and an additional 30 minutes to straighten it. My arms could do with a break and I’d much rather carry on binge-watching That 70s Show.” I slapped on some leave-in conditioner and put it in a bun. It was both liberating and a bit terrifying - only the gods knew what this hair would look like in the morning. I went to work and came back and the world didn’t implode.
To be fair, the lead up to this was a tad more dramatic. I had been in South Korea (ESL Teacher) for three months at that point, and my hair was first to react to the change. “Dorothy, we ain’t in Kansas anymore!” Despite washing it on a weekly basis, my scalp still itched and flaked like crazy. I knew for a fact that I spent Sunday afternoons hunched over for the better part of the day, but now it was all for naught. Something was off in my routine - it took me 7 years to perfect and all of a sudden, it didn’t work. I’m a creature of habit and the slightest hiccup can throw me off completely. I could barely concentrate on conversations, I was so uncomfortable. I had to resist the urge to scratch or pat my scalp three times in a row. I had to do an inspection every time I passed a mirror while screaming internally, “Please don’t let there be dandruff!” It was embarrassing, it was annoying - at best - and it certainly wasn’t the way I wanted to start my new life in Korea.
Luckily, I wasn’t alone. I had my own mini walking, talking, natural hair library. My best friend had already been in the country doing the same gig, and I remember her telling me to try a tea-tree based shampoo, or even just tea tree oil to get rid of the problem. That on its own didn’t sound so bad, but she followed it up with the words I dreaded most.
“Don’t blow-dry and straighten your hair - the heat could be aggravating everything.”
The last bit was a reasonable and solid observation and I’m sure her tone was soothing and comforting, but I focused on the first part and I swore I heard a million glasses shatter in the background. Et tu brute? She knew my struggle - we went to varsity together and she never saw me between lunch and dinner on a Sunday. I don’t even know if I was composed for long enough in that moment to verbalise this sentiment, but I’m sure it was written all over my face. I could probably only mumble something through gritted teeth, but I appreciated the help. And she was right. My life was about to be shaken up - as if moving halfway across the world wasn’t enough - and I had to roll with the punches. I was going to learn to look in the mirror and love what I see.
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