Freedom? Is to be free dumb? Last week my journey led me to restrain from combing my hair. I was set and content in that decision, though I didn’t vet the lifestyle fully. I work in a professional capacity. A few heads were turning, no words spoken. I was free! My definition of freedom: to move into a state of contentment without regard of the consequences. I felt liberated. In the midst of my freeforming I realized something. I am not an island unto myself. There are those who depend on me. They need me soluble and non controversial. They need me to comb my hair with a tool. I was finger styling. My kinks would disagree. They needed more rotation. They needed more freedom. They wanted to co-mingle and love one another one strand at a time, I was at my wit’s end because I was ready to commit, ready to reinvent myself. What’s worse I was looking for some known fact, proof that not combing my hair would make my hair grow faster, I found no such proof. Nevertheless my commitment was truly enough but a documented fact would’ve been a sweet find. So I increased my no comb method to one a day. One FAT time when my hair is wet from my morning rinse.
It’s true that nothing in this world is free. It’s also true that my happiness hinges on that cusp. It is never a bad idea to move to the beat of your heart. So even though I decided to lessen the looks a bit I haven’t deviated from my ultimate journey in any way. In case you need to read it, I will lock my hair in a few months. I am committed to experiencing a more concentrated version of ethnic pride and adornment. There is no better intimacy than the love of oneself, no greater freedom.