I have dreams about achieving a sleek high ponytail like Janet Jackson wore during the State of the World tour, but even after pulling out a tooth brush, gel, edge control, silk scarf, and a prayer and anointing from a southern Baptist auntie, my hair still gets that my-bonnet-slipped-off-last-night frizz. After trying enough edge controls, I started to the think my hair would never get smooth. But then I started to wonder: What’s in this stuff? How can my hair be stiff, greasy, and still frizzy? It is stiff enough that I feel like I have lash glue on my edges, and not only is it bad for my hair, but it dries my scalp, so I end up with stiff, sticky hair with flakes of dry scalp glued in. Not a cute look.
“My therapist turned out to be wonderful. She spoke like a regular person and put me at ease immediately. She seemed to figure me out as soon as I came in. She saw that I was not going to be easy. I wasn’t going to be aggressive but she could see that I had my guard up. She called attention to it—not right away because that would have been a turn off—but she phrased things in way that signaled to me that she knew how I was feeling. She told me that I could say whatever I wanted. She really put the ball in my court to lead the session. She didn’t interrogate me. Instead she asked me one very open-ended question.”
In order to keep my locs healthy, strong and more importantly, not falling out in my hand, I increased my deep conditioning from once a month to once a week by using the following: I use a moisturizing shampoo. Which, is a given with natural hair. However, I use Total Body Black Earth Shampoo from Taliah Waajid, which is amazing for dry, damaged and over-processed hair. I use a liberal amount of Protective Mist Bodifier leave-in conditioner, followed by African Healing Oyl applied from root to tip, paying special attention to my ends. I style accordingly, usually plaits or braids while my hair air dries.
Four years ago, I experienced my second miscarriage in as many years. The first loss caused me great anguish. I kept wondering why. What had I done wrong? What was the matter with my body? But I carried on and became pregnant again. The second miscarriage was devastating. It happened a mere three days after my last doctor’s visit—a visit in which I’d heard my baby’s heartbeat and took home an image of the sonogram. I’d never known pain like that before and I will never get over it.
Mother’s day is this Sunday. All across the nation, children are fervently working on rose-adorned projects that may or may not include letters, poems or odes on the subject of motherhood. Most of these little gifts will be hilarious. Come Sunday, there will be breakfast in bed for some and post-church buffet for others. The rest of moms may experience a much-needed spa day, or at least a full blessed hour of silence in a candle-lilt bath. Moms everywhere will appreciate whatever gift their day happens to bring and recognize the sentiment behind every gesture. It’s what mothers do.