Well.. The Journey Starts Hair

My beautiful Solana was born June 2009, a whopping 9 lbs 3 oz, and not a shred of hair in sight. For two and a half years I prayed her hair would grow. Everyone told me, "It's just a matter of time, she'll have tons of hair eventually!" My husband is African American, and I am Honduran (from Central America). As a female myself, I admit that I was so curious as to what her hair would look like! Well ... (since this is her favorite word now, at 4 years old) ... I didn't realize that my anticipation would be met with such a mixed bag of emotions. My baby girl does have a lot of hair now. It is super curly, ash-brown in color, and absolutely beautiful in my eyes. I love to style it, and I openly admit that I prefer it as natural as possible. Consequently, I hear lots of side comments about how I don't have a clue as to what I'm doing. I've been on the receiving end of this type of comment all my life, and it has been even more intense in the last 15 years, having married outside of my race. As with anything in my life, when it comes to her hair, what I lack in personal experience (her texture is much different than mine), I do make up for in my researching prowess. I do my fair share of studying up on products, styles, techniques, etc. Nonetheless, some of my girlfriends seem to look down on me for not putting expensive products in her hair or not taking her to the salon for professional styling (I did it once and it was torture for her). My friends that like the more natural approach still seem to judge me, telling me that I'm not using the right products or that I am not conditioning her hair enough. Even worse are the friends that just give me glances of disapproval but blatantly compliment my baby girl on other features, "She has the most beautiful smile". Yes she does, but their eyes are fixed on her hair, not her smile! I'm not one to dwell on negativity nor do I normally care about how others critique me. So as much as I seek out my friends that kindly give me advice, or as patiently and politely as I listen to those that aren't so kind, I take things in stride, knowing that it's not the end of the world if her hair isn't absolutely perfect in everyone's opinion. Up to this point, I was content in my efforts and I took pride in listening to my baby girl when she made special requests about her hair. She prefers two pony tails, one on each side of her haid. She doesn't like the back of her hair in a ponytail because it gets in the way when she leans back in her car seat. She has asked me twice to straighten it (because she sees me do it to my own hair). Both times she complained that it took too long! And yes, I did use plenty of conditioner and heat protecting products before getting the flat iron anywhere near her hair! Then, the day came ... The day she surprised me ... And my heart broke into many pieces ... The day Solana's hair journey started to take a turn. She was playing with her friends. She was pretending to be a warrior princess. She ran into my room, where I was doing laundry, and asked me tie a hand towel around her head. I laughed and complied, thinking she was imagining it as a war band around her head. I watched her play for a few minutes and the picture became clear. She was pretending that hand towel was long flowing hair. She shouted in glee, to the prince that had saved her, "Do you love my beautiful long hair?!" I digested her comment, trying to convince myself that she was overreacting. Well ... the thought nagged at me for a few days. So on a restful weekend morning, as she finished brushing her teeth in her restroom, I asked her, "Solana, do you love your hair?" She responded, "Well ... it's short, I look like a boy," her eyes fixed on mine, through our images in the mirror. "No you don't sweetie! Your hair is not short, let's take it out of these ponytails and I'll show you." "Well ... it would be beautiful if it was long and straight," her disappointed gaze now fixed on her own reflection. I gently responded, "Honey your hair IS beautiful! Your curls are so special, and I love to style your hair!" She half smiled and we somehow moved on to another topic. That conversation still lingers in my mind. How quickly we girls get the image in the mirror twisted. How unfair that at four years old she is already at odds with her reflection. How immense the responsibility I feel for keeping the image untarnished and not letting reality slip through the glass of society's "standards". How determined I am for her to see her image through my eyes. A mother's love knows no end, and her heart has no barriers for her children. As long as I live, Solana will hear from me about how beautiful her hair truly is ...