Ow! Ow!!! That’s hurt!
Hold Still! I’ve got to comb through these naps!
Don’t move. I gotta get the kitchen real good.
I can hear you combing that hair;
Sounds like it’s poppin like popcorn.
Don’t put your hand in there, ya might lose it.
Wooly like a sheep’s butt.
Naps. Kinks. Bad hair. Cliché.
What makes us run for the straightening comb?
Sprint for the no-lye relaxer?
Or peel the potatoes for a conk?
Is it envy? Frustration? Assimilation?
Or just plain fear.
It takes strength to be who you were born to be.
To embrace yourself; embrace your curl pattern.
Curl pattern, you say? Indeed, I do.
It is the basis; the essence; the beginning and the end.
It mimics the helix that is life; the helix of why we live and breathe.
The building blocks of who we are.
Our curls start at the center of our heads and coil down to the core of us.
Our curls are not a problem to be solved or a crooked to be made straight;
They are a beginning, a force;
Like the helices that are hurricanes
And the vortices that are tornadoes,
They can turn nations upside down,
Destroy worlds and begin them anew;
If only they can be allowed to be.
And like all life, they are precious and must be handled with care,
They must be learned and understood.
With care and love, they won’t just be the peasy naps that we wish, weren’t.