Me and my gram, circa 1981.

I stopped using chemicals in my hair in 1999.  Up until that point, I had gone to great lengths to chemically straighten my hair.  When I decided to do the “Big Chop”, I had no idea that my unprocessed hair would become so curly and so full.  Had I looked at some old photographs, I probably wouldn’t have been so surprised.

Several months after my big chop, my hair took on a life of its own, growing and curling about my head.  Whenever I would visit my grandmother, she would say, “Hilary, when are you going to fix your hair?!” To which I would reply, “Gram, there’s nothing wrong with it.  It looks just like yours!” And indeed, my grandmother wore her own variegated gray curls in loose Afro about her face.  She would then pat her curls and say, “And I’m a good looking woman!”

This became our running gag over the years, even when Gram was much older and infirm.  She would still find a way to pat my head and tsk, tsk, tsk at my hair, despite the fact that hers, now more white than gray, was a mirror image.

Gram passed away in August of 2012, just two weeks after I had last seen her.  Our last exchange about when I would fix my hair would be our last.   At her funeral shortly thereafter, I listened to family, friends and neighbors share stories about Gram and all of the advice she dispensed.  Somehow, I found myself at the front of the room, beside her casket, un-spooling my own story from my memory.  I talked about how I was her youngest grandchild, how I had just visited with her and my three curly haired girls.  I described our back and forth about my hair,  so familiar and funny, so part of our interaction as much as any hug and kiss.  I shared a piece of my grandmother that my father, his siblings, the extended family, didn’t know about and was glad to do so. Her curls are my curls and my curls belong to my girls.

The constant refrain of, “When are you going to fix your hair?” spun around and around in my head until I put pen to paper and created Maggie Sinclair.  Maggie loves her natural hair and all of the versatile ways she can style it.  Her grandmother, however,  sees her hair as something that needs to be fixed.  This story, rooted in my own experience and crafted with love, shows how a young girl uses her creativity and imagination to celebrate her lovely head of hair while sharing a lesson about self-love.

The book is written and the illustrations are complete. Publication is moving forward.  Links to purchase the book will be posted once they are available.  In the meantime, stay connected and join in our activities!

Come follow Maggie on Pinterest and like her on Facebook!

While I put the finishing touches on my project, please enjoy some posts chronicling my natural hair journey.

original post first published February 16, 2012

When I last left you, I had decided forgo the big curls and opt for a sleek pixie cut.  Yes, I went back to the relaxer.  I can remember sitting in the stylists chair, looking at how bone straight my hair had become after applying the chemicals.  It was surprising.  I had gone from a voluminous, wide, halo like style to a Morticia Addams, sleek and swirling around my shoulders style.  The temptation to keep my hair long and flowing was great, I’ll admit. I knew, however, that long hair on me ends up in a ponytail after about five minutes.  Coupled with the fact that M and C nearly had an aneurysm every time I would get my hair done by the Dominicans, I felt like I was being kind of hypocritical if I came home with my hair swinging. When the stylist asked me what we going to do with my hair, I said, “Cut it.” So I lost many inches, but came out with a super cute cut.

10 months later,  I decided to go back to my natural curly ‘do. I had gotten spoiled by being natural.  It had been years since I’d gone to the salon and now I was running over there more often than I care to admit.  The time, maintenance, and upkeep involved was not fun.  I missed the ease that natural hair afforded me. My hair had become a chore.  I was due for a touch up and skipped it.  Another few weeks went by and my new growth was reaching the stage where I either had to press it out, relax it out or cut off the straight pieces.  I calling my stylist on the fly and saying, “Can I just come in and have you cut the relaxer out?” I went over there, bumped the customer in the chair (sorry, Mom. Didn’t know that was your appointment) and literally five minutes later, I was relaxer free.  I felt like myself again.

That was November of 2010 and I’m still trying to figure out my hair.

This time around, though, I decided the best way for me to get the results that I wanted:

 (i.e. my old hair)

I needed to understand what I had and how best to treat it.

My arsenal of products

I washed with Miss Jessie’s Super Slip Sudsy Shampoo.  It’s very slippery in your hands, but feels tacky once it’s on your hair.  It claims to remove all product build-up and leave your hair manageable, but my hair felt really dried out, even while wet (if that makes sense).  I suppose that was a testament to how truly clean my hair was.  After the shampoo, I used Komaza’s Califia Leave-In Conditioner and combed it through with my Tangle Teezer.  I wrapped a tee-shirt around my head, got out of the shower, and got dressed.  Once I was dressed, I unwound the tee-shirt and my hair was very damp. I sectioned it off and then used Komaza’s Califia Moisturizing Cream and finger styled the rest.

Squeaky clean. Hair was still pretty wet. Just put in the product.

By the end of the day, I was still pretty pleased with my hair, though there was some curl shrinkage. I really want a product that is going to be heavy enough to let my curls hang down, but not something that is going to dry them out and cause frizz.

What has been your biggest challenge and/or success with your hair?

While I’m putting the finishing touches on my project, over the next few days, please enjoy several entries about my hair journey.

original post first published May 21, 2008

I have been having a love/hate relationship with my hair for the past few weeks. I have a reputation for changing my hair color as often as I change my mind.  The Hubs often says he doesn’t know who he’s coming home to.  I keep box of Hydrience by L’Oreal under the sink right next to extra toilet paper rolls and spare toothbrushes.

My hair. . .where to begin. I get it from my grandma. Apparently, back in the day, Gram was quite the femme fatale with her curly, reddish golden ‘fro. So along with her penchant for cooking, she passed onto me the Phillips family hair — the whole thing, the color, the curls, all of it.  The funny thing is, Gram always asks me, “When are you gonna fix your hair?,” to which I reply, “It’s not broken! It looks just like yours!”

My Gram, circa 2007

I used to relax my hair, meaning, I would have some chemical relaxer slathered onto my roots to make it lay as straight flat as an Abercrombie and Fitch model’s stomach. Every 6 weeks, cause my hair is thick, I’d drop my $45+ and get that creamy crack smoothed onto my scalp.  The Hubs and I had been dating for a while and he had invited me to a formal event hosted.  I definitely wanted to get my hair done for that.  After I got the dress, the shoes, and all things in between, there wasn’t much left for me to spend on hair.  I didn’t know I could have gotten a box kit and had a friend hook me up.  I didn’t know box kits existed! I didn’t know I could have asked the stylist for just a press and curl.  I didn’t even know what that was! What you have to remember is that my hair comes from my father’s side of the family. My mother’s side has thinner hair, hair that needs way less maintenance than mine. When my mom could no longer manage my hair, she took me to have it relaxed.  I don’t think she’d used a hot comb growing up either.  Anyway, when it came time for the even and I needed to get my ‘do done, I was short on funds.  So, I told the stylist to just cut it off.  I did a Big Chop before that term was even in the vernacular.

I rocked the TWA (teeny, weenie, Afro) for about 2 years. When the Hubs and I got married, the natural hair care machine was not nearly as robust as it is now.   Infusium 23’s Leave-In conditioner and Sebastian’s Wet Gel were about the only products that allowed reasonable curl definition.  The acceptance of natural hair was not very far reaching. My parents leaned on me considerably to “think of the wedding photos!” They were holding the check book, so I caved.  Back to the creamy crack. It took two (2), TWO, applications of the relaxer to get my hair to lay flat.  The force was strong with the curls! After the wedding, I did the straight thing for a while until I got tired of burning my hairline with the curling iron. I threw in some braids and went on my merry way. After that, I decided to cut off the braids and start over with the natural. So here we are.

What I love about my natural hair is that when it comes down to it, I don’t have to do anything. No appointments at a salon. No worrying if I’m going to “sweat out my perm” if I go to the gym. No worrying if my hair will keep because the forecast calls for about 78% humidity. Simply wash and go, on most days. The problem is that no matter what product I put in lately, my curls are rebelling. I’ve tried Miss Jessie’s Curly Pudding, Curl Junkie Curl Fuel, Mixed Chix Leave-in Conditioner, Tresemme Flawless Curl, Sebastien’s Wet Gel, Queen Helene Coconut Hair Milk. I’m about to just say “Screw it” and turn myself over to the stylist to be shackled back up to the relaxer — Affirm, Super Strength. Super. Strength. Did I mention super? Thanks, Gram!

What kills me is that every time I get the nerve to do make the appointment, without fail, I am bombarded with compliments about my hair. It’s as if my hair knows that I’m plotting against it, so it starts to behave, thereby eliciting comments from strangers. Each curl becomes highly moisturized, forms a perfect “S” shape, no sign of split ends, and the curl pattern is as precise as a corn field of concentric circles. And all I can think is, “Well crap, how come it didn’t look this good when I had to go to the Urban League Dinner/Smithfield Christmas party/casting/audition/go-see/actual job or some other function where I was trying to look good? So the cycle repeats. And as a little side note, I’ve got to get a grip on my own hair ’cause who knows what kinds of locks are going to sprout up from Mo and Co as they get older!

Today, I think only half of my hair got the message to act out. From the crown of my head to about a quarter of the way down, the Frizz Contingent is striking out threatening to overrun the lower quadrants of Semi-Respectable Looking Curls. There is a small hold-out of curls near the nape of my neck (also known as the kitchen) that have happily sucked down the curl hydrating goop I used this morning and have consented to fall into a nice tangle of bouncy spirals. The rest, oy! Naps, knots, kinks, coils, frizz, and fuzz. Par for the course with natural hair, I know, but instead of fighting it, I’m learning to work with it.  The results change from day to day, but that’s all part of the journey.