Whenever I decide to get my hair done, I spend a week or so browsing through Pinterest, waiting for the perfect style to grace my feed. The process is always the same: I find a few protective hairstyles that I like and whittle them down to the one I think will suit me the most. Four to five weeks later, I subject myself to the same process all over again. 

For me, protective styling isn’t about giving my hair a break, it’s a way of life. Protective styles are popular because of their versatility – there are so many to choose from. As well as promoting hair health, they aim to reduce the stress of environmental factors on natural hair but when done in excess or left in too long, they can cause hair damage. I grew up believing that my hair needed to be styled because that’s how it always was.

I vividly remember the discomfort I experienced when my aunties used wash, dry, comb and style it. Nobody did anything to alleviate my pain – I was expected to deal with it because, as I was told, it would be worth it in the end. The end was always a brand new protective style: braids, cornrows, plaits and sometimes a faux ponytail for special events. My 4C hair was seen as coarse and unmanageable, and although my mother did her absolute best to care for it, a lot of the products she used were created with the sole purpose of increasing manageability. My scalp was always oiled with TCB, a deep conditioning treatment, and the rest of my hair was doused with Luster’s Pink Oil before being styled.

By the time I reached my teens, I had learned how to do my hair but my mentality remained the same. I was always styling my hair because I was convinced that it wasn’t good enough in its natural state. Half up, half down cornrows with extensions were my style of choice – my hair cupboard was filled with red and medium brown kanekalon hair. I liked to stand out, but the thought of letting my natural hair breathe was a scary one. 

In my early adolescent years, I became a loyal devotee of weave-ons. I wasn’t really influenced by anyone but, looking back, it’s clear to see that Eurocentric beauty standards had a role to play. Straight hair was so much easier to manage, and curly hair only needed one or two products in order to thrive. I always had a weave in my hair and, when it started to break as a result of me neglecting to care for it properly, I continued to style it, opting for a full head instead of a leave-out. 

At that moment in time, my natural hair was the last thing on my mind. I didn’t think about the consequences of my actions – dryness, irritation, tension and, worst of all, hair loss. While I acknowledge that my mother and aunties did their best based on what they knew, not being encouraged to let my hair breathe and develop my own unique relationship with it led me to believe it was undesirable in its natural state, hence why I was always eager to cover it up with the help of a protective style.

Being part of a generation that has changed the narrative on natural hair has definitely improved my relationship with my own. The book Good Hair by Charlotte Mensah, and the documentary Hair Power: Me and My Afro by Emma Dabiri, have pushed forward the natural hair celebration, while influencers like Naptural85 and singer-turned-presenter Jamelia have used their platforms to encourage their followers to embrace the beauty of it. 

Beauty brand Dove have worked tirelessly to address hair discrimination with campaigns like ‘As Early As Five’, ‘CROWN’ and most recently, ‘Reclaiming School Picture Day’. And, while I am still doing protective styling (mostly crochet braids), I can confidently give my hair the TLC it deserves in between styles. Adopting a ritualistic approach to caring for my natural hair makes me look forward to wash day instead of dreading it.

During the pandemic, I switched to a Black-owned hair brand and invested in a steamer to help promote hair and scalp health. I feel that I’ve learned to love and appreciate the strength and health of my hair, plus, I have a great stylist who is always imparting wisdom on the best products to apply and this has done wonders.

I hope there’ll come a time where I am able to fully let go of all the negative beliefs and show off my natural hair in all its glory, whether it’s relaxed or not. Not only will it be an opportunity for me to revel in freedom and self-acceptance, but I’ll also be teaching my future daughter that hair doesn’t need to be hidden in order to look good. 

Natural hair is good enough and, whatever we – as Black women – choose to do with our hair, that should never be forgotten.

Images: Kelle Salle