Today I found a lingering opinion just hanging around waiting to be discovered. I was and did not realize that my mom’s opinion of how I grew my hair mattered. I thought I had squashed the naysayers in ‘The Opinionated Ones’. I was sure of it. Then today on my mom’s birthday as I went to her job to send gifts, love and blessings it appeared. To say I was mortified was an overstatement but it is definitely in the line of where my thoughts were going. I had to use my lifeline in this instance. I called my wifey. As a good wife would, she told me what I already knew. She said they (her mom and mine) were from another generation.
My mom (and hers) is from the generation of the Civil Rights Movement. Blacks were just handed simple liberties that were old hat to Whites. My mom has learned the game well. She got an education, dresses up nicely everyday and tends to say all the right things. So for some reason I thought she was going to have a deep opinion (because I was at her job) of my baby locs. I could not have been further from the truth. When we greeted one another and her gift was hers forever she asked me about my process, my journey. It was more of what stage am I in type of question. I was relieved. I hate to admit that, but I was. I told her where I was and what my hair was doing and that was that. lol…
Ok, now I am sure she is the only opinion that will make me stutter step. I should say that whether positive or negative I was not going to redirect my journey because of my mom’s opinion. This is my journey, an odssey of self discovery. I own it and its consequences but that does not mean I can’t hear her or respect her opinion