MY VERY OWN, DEAR WHITE PEOPLE,
I’m natural. Being natural means that the hair you see on my head is my very own. I grew it like a flower. It defies the laws of gravity (in your world). My hair is koily, which is curls on steroids. The hair springs and bounces, it stays and stands, it grows and shrinks, it is hair! It is mine. Not a weave, nor braids, nor extensions. Yes I have worn extensions, but this is not it. This is MY HAIR.
Because it is neat, cool, unimaginable, confusing, different, and everything yours is not on a daily on its very own, DON’T TOUCH MY SHIT! Do not fix your eyes which will entice your mind and make your hands move, to touch my hair! I don’t care what you can or cannot understand, its not meant for you to understand and touching it won’t make you WOKE to the fact that it is different from yours. I you haven’t looked or realized, A LOT ABOUT US ON THE OUTSIDE IS DIFFERENT. So you won’t understand just like I don’t understand everything about you and your bodily differences.
STOP PETTING ME.
STOP STARRING WITH YOUR MOUTH OPEN AND EYES KINKED.
STOP MESSING WITH MY ‘FRO.
STOP MAKING ME THE FEEL LIKE A DAMN ANIMAL.
I’M A PERSON. The same person I was with long weave. The same person I was in the hat. The same person I was in a scarf. Just like I change my clothes, and you change your hair color, I change my hair. Get over it. Watch a video if you want to learn and understand, but don’t go all Bill Nye on me and start pulling stuff out of your lab coat to dissect this changes.
Get more black friends. Ask your friends, OF COLOR, about the different things but don’t you dare start touching something on someone without asking.
Don’t question me because I can be as versatile as a chameleon.
I had someone I’ve worked with for 11 weeks at a kids summer camp tell me ” I don’t know how I feel about it. It’s weird. You’re touching it. It’s like a sponge that’s hers. ahhh! ”
Yall this bitch is 20 years old. Plays sports. And has seen my natural hair for the last 7 weeks. We’ve had conversations about her life, her kids, hugged and played. What is there not to know? I’m the same person I was yesterday the day before and 6 weeks ago.
I now question you. I judge you because you’re 20 years old and don’t understand that our ethnic differences allow my hair to do something different. BRUH!!!!
People I can’t with this anymore. I will be your black friend that allow you to ask the questions that you need to understand our differences. But please ask. And be aware of what you say. How you act. And how you treat me and others POC (people of Color) because I promise you from the red blood in my body to the brown in my eyes, I’m a person to.