our hair tells a story sometimes we just need to listen to it.

A F.U.B.U. Collection series sharing our hair stories. "Each one of them tells a different story of my life from love, depression, acceptance, and perseverance."

BlackStack

A Dope Black Girl With Anxiety

alex b.

, and 2 others

Aug 31, 2024

You know one of the most beautiful things about being Black is our flexibility with our hair options. Because of the way our hair grows and the texture allows us to use our hairstyles as a form of self-expression, we are walking piecing of artwork.

Our hair goes through stages, when wet it feels the most manageable yet when dry it looks the healthiest and most vibrant when we take the proper time to care for it ourselves.

Our hair stories as

Alex B

so beautifully put it, tells different stories of our transformations throughout life, changing our hair with every new embrace.

And

Johanna Smith (she/her)

confirms that our hair can be a form of self-expression when we are intentional about our hair from a spiritual perspective.

The most unapologetic part of being a Black woman is how versatile we are with our styles and

A Dope Black Girl With Anxiety

reminds us that sometimes the girlies with the wigs are wearing them for a reason, so lighten up on the judgment.

This reminded me of when my grandmother started wearing wigs a couple of years ago when diagnosed with breast cancer, she has never been so proud to rock her afro now. Before I’d never seen her afro outside of old photo album books, she always kept a relaxer with a roller set.

We all have a story and as Black women, we sometimes have this conditioning to judge that story based on the cover, as authors we can be real about it. The thing about my grandma is she used to be the one judging and talking about other women wearing wigs when I was younger, that’s a core memory I have because I never wore one because of her comments.

the journey to my locs…I learned a few things along the way

I don’t have an epic love story with my hair and it's been treated like any typical relationship. Love + tenderness, struggle + stress. We’ve been through the highs + lows of hot combs and relaxers in the 90s, micro braids, and two-strand twists on natural hair in the 2010s to present-day unkempt locs.

I occasionally like to wrap my hair with scarves.

My earliest memories of anyone touching my hair regularly were of my older cousin, DeAndrea, and a hairstylist, Dee. DeAndrea was good for the braids and with delicate hands, this woman had snatch strength so strong she could braid your thoughts. But I looked good though. At the salon, I didn’t bother myself with ear-hustling adult conversations because I was too intrigued by reading the hair and nail magazines. I marveled at the beautiful black women with hairstyles sculpted so perfectly that they deserved to be displayed in a black museum as fine art. I like to consider hair stylists and barbers as magicians for even the most complicated textures + dos and they can get you looking like new money every time. “Where were they going and how do they sleep with these styles like they’re ready for an exclusive hair show?” I couldn't see myself having a stylist bless my crown that required me to sleep sitting up for two weeks or with my hands braced underneath my chin (fast forward to the early 2000s - I had to sleep with my head propped up once and never did it again LOL).

My go-to hairstyles back in the day were variations of finger waves, French rolls, ponytails with bangs, and wraps. In high school, I kept it simple with wraps as it was an easy style I could manage on my own. When I left for the Air Force in 2003, finding a reliable stylist that didn’t make me look like a clown was a disaster. Bad hair cuts, long days of being double booked, ugly weaves…eventually, I said screw it, cut my hair short, and went natural. 2006 - here comes the fro. When I retired in 2008, I decided to take a chance and visit the salon right outside of the base to start my locs. Wearing my locs is my most loved + appreciated style because they taught me how to have patience through transformation. Be gentle during the baby phase. Don’t stress yourself to tame unruly + rebellious strands that refuse to listen in the teenager phase. Appreciating how I’ve grown in the mature phase.

No one has ever touched these locs until June this year. My locs are 9 years old.

As someone who was raised to not leave the house looking messy and being taught how to maintain proper dress and appearance by both my military parents and the Air Force, I don’t worry about keeping my hair neat now. This is my third time growing my nearly ass-length locs. I embrace the tiny brown + silver strands that refuse to stay tucked in place and admire how no two locs are the same. It's my way of letting go of perfectionism. Each one of them tells a different story of my life from love, depression, acceptance, and perseverance. Watching old ends break off is a reminder that they no longer serve a purpose in my growth. A constant reminder to always show up as myself and have patience on my journey.

I’ve been a hat collector for 20 years. I love wearing my hats.

Peace,

Alex B

Bringing My Hair into Harmonious Balance

My stylist recommended wearing my natural curls to give the appearance of fuller hair to camouflage my hair loss. After 6 months of sticking to a tailored plan, I started gaining confidence in wearing my natural curls. (April, 2022)

First and foremost, I’d like to shout out to Dr. Fo Adunni for allowing me to participate in her dissertation research on the subject of black women’s experiences with their hair. Her research interview with me prompted me to reflect and properly stitch the pieces of my hair story together.

There are so many directions I can take in relaying my hair story. I have enough material to write a book about it. Obviously, at this moment, I cannot write an entire book. Probably the most succinct and edifying format to take is to utilize my framework, Harmonious Balance, to break down the journey with my hair. My mission at this moment is to expound upon the physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual energy surrounding my hair, what has thrown me off balance, and what I’m doing to manifest the harmony I’d like to experience with my hair.

Be sure to read the captions of the photos included where I tell parts of my hair story that didn’t fit nice and neatly in the overall text.

Here we go…

PHYSICAL ENERGY: Is my hair healthy? Do I understand how to best care for my hair? While there are objective metrics for what constitutes healthy hair, there is only one question, in my opinion, that gets at the heart of it. Is my hair healthy enough to do what I want to do with it to feel good about it? My short answer to that question is no. I have experienced significant hair loss (androgenic alopecia accelerated by Graves’ disease) to the point that I feel very limited with my preferred styling options. I am also experiencing gray hair growth that I cannot satisfactorily keep up with.

2008 & 2009 were probably my last confident hair years. The summer before my Dec 2010 Graves Disease diagnosis I probably lost the most hair. You can see the difference in my HS reunion photo that summer (bottom right).

“Gray hair, don’t care.” I wish that’s how I felt. I am getting very tired of the frequent touch-ups and the harsh lines of demarcation. I believe my grey hair is connected to the alopecia. I began routinely covering my grey in my late 20s. The rate of grey new growth seemed to accelerate with my Graves’ disease diagnosis.

While I’ve lost density all over, I’ve lost the most from the middle front to the crown. I’ve pretty much plateaued with the treatments I’ve tried. I have a couple more options in mind to try over the next few months

By objective measures, the remaining individual strands of hair on my head are probably more healthy than not. Within the last 5 years or so, I have gained a better understanding of how to care for my hair than I had previously. That does not mean that I was reckless with my hair before. I always understood that less was best when it comes to healthy hair. My routine was pretty basic and low maintenance. My preference is not to do my hair. Not as in tuck it away in “protective” styles, but outsource the care of my hair to a stylist. When I reflect on my hair’s journey, my hair was healthiest when I regularly partnered with a stylist.

Believe it or not, I’ve never worn braids. I was in high school when the film, Poetic Justice, came out with my hometown hero, Janet Jackson (r) and Regina King (l). I thought the braids were very pretty. When one of my classmates came in with braids and she told me how long it took, I said NEVER MIND to braids.

Budgetary constraints currently prevent me from being in a stylist’s chair as often as I’d like. I miss my stylist, Roni, dearly. However, I’ve learned enough over the last few years to get by in the meantime. But make no mistake about it, I am eager to be in a stylist’s chair week in and week out!

EMOTIONAL ENERGY: How do I feel about my hair? Is it an asset or a liability? What or who has shaped how I feel about my hair? How self-conscious am I about my hair? I am definitely more self-conscious about my hair than I once was. My thin crown and gray hair leave me much more insecure about my attractiveness. It’s a very unsettling contrast because my hair was never a source of concern. I’ve actually grown resentful of how much my hair has consumed me these past few years.

2nd-10th grade photos. My first haircut was in 7th grade. The women of hip-hop, especially MC Lyte, were my inspiration with the mushroom and asymmetric cuts.

Growing up, I was never really vain about my hair but I was affirmed enough about it that I definitely did not consider it to be a liability. Overall back then my emotional energy was pretty well balanced when it came to my hair. Though I will admit that when I was younger I was afraid to cut it short initially. I would cut it short on the top but keep it long in the back. But as it grew out, it looked like I was desperately trying to hold on to length. I didn’t want to look silly and that gave me the courage to not fear the shears.

My hair was relaxed from ages 14-22. The upper photos were some of my last relaxed hair moments in 1999-2000. I cut my hair two years later, though I don’t remember why. At 19, I wore my hair a bit shorter, but I have no photos of that cut.

I am super eager to get back to not giving a second thought about my hair. But for now, I’m embracing this season of anonymity that I’m currently in and not really caring what other people think about my hair. During this season, I have been strategizing what’s next with my hair.

I loved me some bangs, but hair loss stopped me from wearing them. The China bang would draw attention to my hair loss and make me hella self-conscious.

The low pony with swooped sides was one of my go-to styles. It’s pretty classic. Even my mother wore it. And no we are not part Indian nor part Native American. I used to get asked that. So I finally asked my parents and the answer was no. Over the years, I’ve eliminated the swoops because it would expose the sparseness. Instead, I now comb the front up and back. That’s my niece, Maya, as a baby and later at 19 with me rockin’ a low pony both times.

MENTAL ENERGY: What is the truth about my hair? Does my hair distract me? I’ve already shared that I’ve grown resentful about how much my hair has consumed me in recent years. It has been a source of distraction. I most certainly would rather apply that mental energy elsewhere. I know what it’s like to not think about my hair and I like how that feels much better.

From 2017-2020, I wore wigs. It was fun but I also experienced serious imposter syndrome. In 2020, I started to get wig fatigue. The pandemic turned out to be timely because I didn’t want to wear them anymore.

I’ve always liked wearing hats. But I’ve leaned into hats even more especially after I stopped wearing wigs. If a hat won’t do, I will throw on a bandana.

The truth is I’m grappling with what my hair once was and the reality of what my hair is now. I’m coming around to acceptance. In all honesty, I’m coming around to a rather unpopular truth. And that unpopular truth is I actually don’t have to like my hair but I do need to get to feeling neutral about it. My hair does not have to be the centerpiece of my aesthetic. It is NOT my only asset. It certainly is not the centerpiece of who I am as a person. I need not play it up or down. I need not overthink it.

Scarves have become another go-to way of hiding my gray and thinning hair. The low bun is the only knot I could master...

SPIRITUAL ENERGY: What is my intention towards my hair? What do I want my hair to express? My intention towards my hair is pretty simple. At this point with all that I have been through with my hair, I want it to be as healthy as possible and styled in a flattering way. I don’t necessarily seek to make a statement with my hair. Though I reserve the right to do so should I choose to.

A signature look for me now is a ribbon-like scarf with flat twists. It’s one of the few styles that work with my glasses, which I wear most of the time.

I’ve been exploring a number of options to gracefully grow out my gray hair and styles that minimize the appearance of thinning. I have some ideas that I’m leaning towards. I have a much more positive outlook than I once had. My prayer has been that when I finally emerge from this season of anonymity, the insecurities I have about my hair will be resolved. If things go as I hope, that prayer may very well be answered and my big reveal will be in the coming months!!

Onward to healthy hair-esteem and Harmonious Balance, my friends!

Johanna Smith (she/her)

YOU LOVE YOUR WIGS, HUH?

In the Black community, hair has always been more than just a style—it’s a statement, a legacy, and a source of pride. Our hair carries the history of our ancestors, reflecting cultural significance, spiritual beliefs, and personal identity.

Braids, locs, natural - black hair tells a story of resilience, creativity, and are the crown that we shape, adorn, and carry with purpose.

My relationship with hair has always been complex. I remember when I was 11 years old, and a white girl in school pointed out my bald spot. I was heartbroken.

Growing up in a predominantly white school, all I saw was blonde and brown hair follicles that cascaded to the butt. Back then I wore braids, then my mom started adding weave to help strategically cover the the spots - that’s when the principal (who knew nothing about protective hairstyles or culture for that manner) tried to ban "weave" altogether.

It didn't happen (my mom became friends with the judge's wife during volunteer night - she told her husband - and we never heard about the ban again) - but the damage was done. When the art teacher decided it was her duty to ask me in front of the class why I had different hair privileges, it took everything out of me to hold in the, "because I'm black!". Instead, I gave a history lesson to an adult about ethnicity and hair.

...and people wonder why I resisted being a teacher.

While my trauma started from wypipo, I find that my people aren't always kind about it either.

You love your wigs, huh?

Yeah - it's either that or run around showing the dents in my head.

Alopecia is a condition that many in our community are familiar with, yet it’s often shrouded in silence and shame. The loss of hair—whether gradual or sudden—can strip away not just our physical crown but our confidence as well. It’s a journey that leaves you feeling exposed and vulnerable, especially in a world where so much of our identity is tied to the way we wear our hair.

I haven’t found the courage to rock a baldie yet—maybe one day I will. For now, extensions and weaves are my way of reclaiming my sense of self. They allow me to express the parts of myself that alopecia has tried to take away. I’m still on this journey, learning to find beauty in my own reflection and appreciate the versatility that extensions provide.

Weaves have allowed me to experience the feeling of royalty in a sense. When I see black women rocking their fros, beautiful locs, and my fave - kinky straight textures - I can't help but hold up my fist of gratitude for Madame CJ Walker for setting this industry awf! They say beauty comes from within - but it doesn't hurt to like what you see in the mirror. So when my hair looks good, I feel good.

As I continue this tango with alopecia, I’m learning that our hair, in all its forms, is still our crown. And whether adorned with extensions or worn natural, it’s a crown that represents our strength, our history, and our beauty.

For those who are experiencing hair loss, I know it hurts. I know that some days are better than others. But I hope that you know that you are beautiful, that you are more than your hair, and the bright side is - your curls won't get tangled in the jewels of your growth.

A Dope Black Girl With Anxiety