Part 1. Mygration* from 'Tell it like it is' to Tenderness in Motherhood
*MYgrations is a themed essay series about my own personal migration stories from one mental shift to another. Unlike some of the other fictional stories you’ll find in this newsletter, these essays are a) true and b) specifically about my life.
WARNINGS:
- This post talks a little shit about Jamaican women, so if you are one, perhaps you’ll be slightly offended at some point here.
- I am one of those Jamaican women being talked about in here, so if you come for me in the comments, mi still ago seh wheh mi waah seh, bredren.
Hair Rituals Education
Left over right, make it tight. That’s the the basic chorus for bomb-ass two-strand twists on Blackgirl natural hair, and my daughters had a serious rhythm going on—left over right, make it tight.
They sat on our living room couch, snacks strewed about, Netflix doing its job to entertain them, and four brown hands moving around in Marley’s head, hers and her sister, Sage’s. It was Marley’s wash day, and if you know anything about Blackgirl hair, you know that wash day is a thing—an attention-requiring, time-consuming ritual performed in the name of moisturized, more manageable, shiny coils.
By the time they finished, they (mostly Sage) had put Marley’s hair into nearly fifty perfect twists. It’s a great style that makes our thick, mostly coarse head of hair easier to handle until next wash day. You can twists as-is, or you can style them like you would your loose natural strands. Convenience and cuteness, boom!
I tend to rock two-strand twists when we travel, especially because I can opt to take them out to achieve the coveted twist-out look for at least two solid days. With hair as thick as ours, a no-fuss two-day style is pure goodness, trust!
As you may know, the one downside to these fly and versatile twists is that at some point we gotta take them out. And rarely ever, eh-vurr, do you get small two-strands out in the first sitting. Unless you are that odd, super diligent one, or you have someone helping you, it all becomes too much, too fast, and the loose hairs get mixed in with the twisted ones, inevitably leaving some twists left unattended. Sometimes even when we untwist (depending on how long you kept them in) we might need to detangle each of the two sections because hairs can start to get matted in preparation for the natural locking process.
Matter of fact, when I started Marley’s loc journey when she was five years old (she’s now 18), I did two-strand twists and just never untwisted them; check out the video below. That was great because she wanted locs (I had locs back then, too), and it would make it so much easier for me to manage her headful of thick, lovely hair.
So, Marley had her recent wash-day twists in, and took them out maybe about a week ago. She didn’t do detailed detangling, and she didn’t get help from Sage or me. She just took them out and then put her hair in a puffy ponytail with two small sections in the front, and kept it moving so she could go to work, run errands, and not have to deal with her hair.
Earlier this week, she was getting ready for work and her hair was at the end of its don’t-mind-me allowance period. She found it it hard to manage that day, and asked me to help her with some flat twists in the front, and to help tame her puffy ponytail. Having had her hair in locs from she was five until she was 16, she doesn't have a lot of experience with her eight-ish inches of thick, coarse, jet black, beautiful coils.
I got out the rosewater/lavender oil/tea tree oil blend I always have on tap, and basically did a much neater version of what she had already done. She was in a rush so I said, ‘You know what, when you get back, let me help you moisturize it, because I know you've been spritzting it with rosewater combo., but when it's loose like this, at least every three days, you gotta go in and do a lighter version of the oh-so-vital LCO method.
She was down. Plus she knows her Mama is hella hair-savvy because I’ve been doing my own hair since I was about ten, and I used to make my spenny by braiding folks’ hair in my mid teens while in high school. And when YouTube came out, it was over! I can watch videos of Blackgirl hairstyles and mimic it; I’m just hair-amazing like that! *flips bangs*
The downside to that is that Marley basically had a semi-professional stylist managing her hair her whole life, so she didn’t have basic girlie hair 101 practice. As such, I’ve spent the last two years on and off teaching her basic hair stuff like:
- how to braid
- how to determine whether her particular loose natural coils needed to LCO or LOC
- the pain and rewards of a proper tip-to-root detangling process
- the other 4,287 aspects of being in healthy partnership with thick, natural hair.
Our Process
Shortly after she got home, we went into her bathroom, we got out the essentials:
- Shea Moisture Coconut + Hibiscus Curl n Style Milk
- Dr Locs Jinan Leave-in Conditioner
- Home-made Rosewater + Essential Oils Spray
- Tail comb
- Wide-tooth comb
- Detangling brush
- Hell’s Kitchen playing on her iPad
- Patience and prayers fi real
Then we started to section her hair and unsurprisingly found a few remaining twists, and some formerly twisted sections that had needed unraveling when they were first taken out. What was surprising was how much of her hair was in a twist or semi-matted situation! We quickly saw that a) it was going to hurt somewhat, and that b) it would take at least three times longer than the 15-minute quick, four-section moisture job she was prepared to endure.
This is when my cultural history entered the chat. I could hear so clearly the thoughts in head, and I tapped into what I’ve named my archiving work right away and repeatedly, so that I could choose something different than my default thoughts out loud.
If you know any Jamaican-born women, I’m gonna say with confidence that there’s a strong chance that you would call her a direct or straightforward person. This is obviously a generalization, but dat nuh mek it wrong! The experience that I had/have with Jamaican women, being one myself and growing up around us, is that
a) we speak our minds,
b) we look at you like you’re out of order when you try to tell us that something we said offended you, because
c) we’re used to that from our elders, and
d) where we’re from, you’d likely be called too sensitive and then promptly dismissed.
When we realized the reality of the current hair situation, my Jamaican Mom default language went something like:
- Damn, you didn't get all these twists out, what were you even doing?
- Yu head tough iiih? Why yu neva do wha yu did need fi do before todeh?
- Can y’all clean up this bathroom? Bathrooms should really be spotless, otherwise yuh nasty!
- By the time I was your age…insert unrelated rant about anything but what we’re actually doing in the moment
…and just basically saying all the thoughts that are in my head without regard for how they land. And when they land in a way that I didn't expect, then I make the person wrong for how they felt about what I said, especially if I felt I was right about whatever I was saying.
That's what I come from, culturally. And that's what I tend to default to, mindlessly. My saving grace is that because we’ve been unschoolers for nearly a decade, I’m far more mindful. For example, if I notice that something I’ve said is offensive to Marley or Sage, I don't make them wrong for making a face, or for voicing that something was offensive to them.
And what I was able to notice yesterday was that I still had all the thoughts in thoughtland about what was wrong, and what could’ve been done differently, but I kept them as my thoughts, not words I hurled at her.
Every time I felt an urge to blurt out a perfectly legit-to-me thought, my mindful Self would present questions:
- Could I say this differently?
- Would what I’m about to say be helpful? Or do I just want to say what I think?
- What’s the history of her response to this type of thing I’m about to say (even though I am clearly right)?
So then I said things like, yo with some sections being this tangled, you clearly gettin’ skillful at taking care of your hair enough to get it to where you’re comfortable enough with it to wear to work! Remember how much harder that would have been for you a year ago?
And other things like, yeah, I totally see what you were saying about how difficult it is to tell the twists from the untwisted ones here in the front! Let me show you how I tell the difference?
See the difference?
I chose to affirm instead of criticize, and to offer education instead of focusing on what she already knew, which was that she didn’t get all the twists out. I chose to operate from a mindset of tenderness because that’s what Marley was calling for, emotionally.
Her hair in loose natural form is a very recent change in her life, and learning something new can be hard for anyone. Also, her lack of confidence around her hair care skills called for my tenderness, not my tough-love approach to educating her. When I think about a head of hair as something so visible, and so often criticized by the world outside, I didn’t need to add to that inside her/our own home. I’ve written my share of essays about Black hair and its reality as far more than some shallow aesthetic thing, so what kind of shady would I be if I didn’t consider that with my own daughter?
I have learned that just blurting out my thoughts on her would neither be useful, nor necessary. It was my responsibility to either speak to what I thought would be helpful, or to shut up and just do what I volunteered to do.
How My Approach Landed
What I witnessed was that my considerations invited Marley’s body language and voice softened over time. When we first got into that bathroom and set up shop on that counter, in front of that massive mirror, she was not excited! You may know how mother-daughter life can be, and if so, you know that we’re just not always in a friendly/chatty space with each other.
Plus, her experiences with me teaching her things are not without moments of me being schoolish and very typical Jamaican Mom-like in terms of blurting out my thoughts, and stifling or dismissing her responses. Unschooling changed that over the years, but I had to get there, and I took my time.
What I also witnessed is that Marley was more receptive to the things I was teaching her that evening. She received my energy of being considerate of her as a whole person with feelings, not just my daughter who lacked important information that I happened to have.
It wasn't a ‘welp, if you want this information, then you'll have to take these feelings I’m having too!’ situation. I didn't want to come from that space because it wasn't necessary, and can in fact be harmful to our communication.
Choosing tenderness and respect for her right to be inexperienced and have feelings, didn't stop me from passing on the necessary education. It just allowed me to be more mindful about how I said each thing, and to witness how she responded to tenderness with her own softening.
Marley thanked me like three separate times when we were done. Usually after a hair session, I get a great-thanks-bye-Mom nod with slight eye contact, because the process can feel daunting, and sometimes hurts. This time, feels like while I was detangling her hair, I was also detangling from yet another cultural norm around the passing on of important information. I notice myself archiving more of the aspects of my origin culture that need to be releases, and that gives me space to *savor the ones I want to keep, like our Blackgirl hair rituals.
When I’m discerning like that, I get to study and savor my choices, my words, and the responses I witness, so that I can create new normals that also become part of my culture. I get to be part of creating a revised, partnership-centered version of Jamaican Mom-like responses, and it feels important and beautiful in my spirit to be active and mindful about that.
*I’m writing about the ways I savor my life in newsletter. Join me there to learn more about Savorism.
- If you like this short story, maybe you’ll like my other one, Naturalized Flies. Read Part 1 of that story here:
