On The Road Again... Traveling While Curly

Preparing for a trip brings about a laundry list (oh boy, I almost forgot that I had to do laundry) of items that need to be done prior to heading for the airport. This Thanksgiving my family and I headed to the east coast to mix it up with our east coast fam-bam. While my cousin perused her menu taking names of who was making their famous whatnot, and my mother called time and time again to tell me about the deal she got on a new sweater and her east coast winter worthy boots, I stared at a shower, cabinet, and vanity filled with products that were not going to make it past TSA without confiscation. As my anxiety began to rise (DARN YOU whoever decided that a quart sized bag of 3.4 oz containers was a reasonable limitation to impose on Curly-travelers) I had a “let go and let flow” moment. I pulled out my luggage, unzipped the expander, and began packing the full-sized quantities of my products. I was not going to let “The Man” and his Anti-Curly National Security Regulations get me down.

 

Because I was going to be gone for 7 days, I wanted to make sure I had enough of my essentials without having to rush into a Ricky’s to re-up mid-trip. I initially thought that I would rock twist outs the entire trip as cold weather, the lack of a trusty hooded dryer, and no LA sunshine to finishing the drying work did not sound like optimal conditions for The Becky (|T͟Hē bek-ee| n. a convenient hair style completed while in the shower. Also known as a "wash-and- go"). But I thought I should be prepared just in case I needed to return to my (co)wash-and-go during the trip. When it was all said and done, my Curly packing list included:

1. Hair Rules Cleansing Cream (2 oz) – I only “wash” once or twice a week so I didn’t need much.
2. Hair Rules Quench Conditioner (8 oz) – Conditioner is essential to The Becky.
3. Hair Rules Curly Whip (8 oz) – My go-to styler for The Becky.
4. Giovanni Direct Leave-In Conditioner (8.5 oz) – I’ve begun using a leave-in prior to applying my styler for added moisture… My curls are loving it.
5. Aubrey Organics Honeysuckle Rose Conditioner (11 oz) – The bottle was at the “shake and squeeze (then repeat)” stage. Since I was bringing everything BUT the kitchen sink I might as well bring a little deep conditioner.
6. Hair Therapy Wrap Thermal Heat Wrap – Ehhh, why not if it fits.
7. Wide-Tooth Comb
8. Ebonnet by EboniCurls – I don’t lay down without it.
9. Blow Dryer with Diffuser I am pleased I exercised some restraint and managed to draw the line at the idea of lugging a hooded dryer on an airplane.

I filled what remaining room I had in my luggage with the rest of the necessities… What else could you possibly need when you’re having a great hair day?

 

My first night in NYC I set my curls for a twist out. When I woke up in the morning my curls revolted with rebel-like un-definition. In that moment, I thanked Little Baby Jesus that I followed my instinct and packed my entire Curly life into my bag. I immediately wet my hair, went through the motions, and then sat down for what seemed like the longest diffusing session of my life. While I missed LA’s 70 degree weather which practically allows me to dry my hair with my sunroof I learned that I can adapt under less favorable conditions and make it work (“Curly Hair Away From Home” badge earned). Maybe by my Christmas trip I will earn my “Curly Hair in a Carry On” badge.

 

How do you manage your Curly-arsenal while traveling?

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A Tale Of One Transition...

Once Upon A Time… (No, too Disney)

It was all a dream, I used to read Word-Up magazine… (Nope, too gangsta)

It was a stormy night. You know the kind when the lightning strikes? And I was hanging out with some of my artsy friends… Ooohweeoooohweeeoooo (Hummm… That sounds about right... Now Playing Appletree by Erykah Badu)

I was given my first relaxer when was 5 years old in the garage my best friend’s mom had converted into a hair salon… My mom was on a business trip so every day my dad would send me across the street to get my hair done for school. At some point while my mother was gone I got a perm in that garage turned beauty salon. Had I have known that the relaxer would lead to years of commitment accompanied by bruised scalps and split ends, I probably would have run home screaming bloody murder. Instead I sat there inhaling the relaxer fumes (a smell I rather enjoyed right up until I got my last relaxer many years later). When I realized that having a relaxer meant my ears no longer had to get burned by the pressing comb my mother heated on the kitchen stove I was converted (THANK YOU Little Baby Jesus).

By the time I entered high school I began to feel differently about relaxers and the process associated with the quest for Jhirmack bounce back beautiful hair. Salon appointments always found a way of taking up my ENTIRE Saturday. At one point I had 3 stylists on rotation. I would drop one and go to the other if  I was kept in the salon more than 3 hours or if I was left waiting idly for more than 45 minutes while she worked on someone else (anyone who’s ever been to a black salon knows this means I rotated stylists A LOT). Every time I went to the salon my stylist would look at the ends of my hair and declare that I needed a trim. The fact that my ends “NEEDED” a trim at every visit was frustrating. It became impossible to retain length and before long I had an ear cropped mushroom cut. I was done with the perm… But not with straight hair.

I elected to grow out my relaxer my sophomore year of high school. No matter how much my hair shed and broke off at the line of demarcation (Line of Demarcation: |līn əv dēmärˈkāSHən| n. the point in one’s hair where two different textures meet) I refused to allow my stylist to cut it. Short hair was a fear factor for me! I continued to get my hair pressed (this time exclusively at a salon… You can turn off the stove and toss that weapon of ear destruction Mommy Dearest). Eventually my stylists began burning my ears too (what is it with you people?!). The anxiety I faced in the chair as the piping hot pressing comb approached my scalp and ears was too much to bear… I eventually abandoned my standing bi-weekly salon appointments. By the time I entered college my regimen consisted of a nighttime bantu-knot session which led to a bantu-knot-out defined afro in the morning. This seemed to work fairly well and got me through my freshman year.

By my sophomore year in college I was once again ready for a change… The curly-afro had become more (let’s say) "popular" around campus and I wanted to do something that wasn’t so (let’s say) "easily duplicated." I made the decision to lock my hair.  I found a Locktician (Locktician:|läk’ tiSHən| n. A Beautician dedicated to the styling and maintenance of locks) who twisted my hair beautifully. I really loved having locks! I was for the first time able to retain a lot of length and experiment with color. My permed hair was so fragile I never considered color and my pressed hair broke off the few times I tried highlights. Despite my love for my locks I began to get the itch to change things up around year 9.

As I approached my 28^thbirthday I began considering what changes I could to make pre-Dirty 30. I knew whatever those changes were I needed to make them well before my 30th birthday (no ¼ life crisis here). While I loved my locks, I missed being able to run a comb (just a regular comb… not a pressing comb… I STILL don’t miss that thing) through my hair. I traveled to NY and on my 28^th birthday I went to see Dickey at the Hair Rules Salon. If I was going to take the leap and cut off all of my hair I figured I would at least find solace in knowing that a famed natural hair stylist had scalped me in the event I hated it afterwards. Dickey was FAB-U-LOUS…  He looked at my reflection in the mirror and asked if I was ready. When I nodded he swung the chair around and proceeded to Big (as in HUGE) Chop my hair. Dickey even started cutting from the front JUST so I wouldn’t/couldn’t change my mind. When it was all said and done I had a ½ inch TWA (Teeny Weeny Afro), a forehead that was not nearly as big as I had thought it was all these years, and a face I was truly seeing for the very first time. When I walked out of the salon and found no one looking in my direction, pointing, and shouting, “you sho is ugly” in that Shug Avery Color Purple drunkin’ drawl, I realized that I would be alright. Besides, the haircut cost more than any haircut I had EVER gotten in my entire life so I figured I better focus allll my energy on liking it... A LOT! By the time I returned to California I had gotten enough compliments dipped in East Coast swag to carry me through any second thoughts I might have had. I loved my new look SO much no one could tell me I wasn’t fly.

My decisions to change my hair throughout the years have been fueled by my desire to maintain control of myself, my coming to realize that I don’t have to look like anyone else  to be gorgeous, my accepting that change is beautiful thing, and my proclaiming that MY hair is MY business and I don’thave to make apologies or conform my looks to make anyone else feel… ANYTHING… Yup, Erykah Badu’s Appletree is the perfect soundtrack for this transition story…

See, I pick my friends like I pick my fruit. My Ganny taught me that when I was only a youth. I don't walk around trying to be what I'm not. I don't waste my time trying to get what you got. I work at pleasin' me cause I can't please you. And that's why I do what I do. My soul flies free like a willow tree. Dooweedooweedoowee. And if you don't want to be down with me, you don't want to pick from my apple tree... And if you don't want to be down with me, you Dumdumdiddy... And if you don't want to be down with me, you just don't want to be down.

What hair transitions have you made and what do they mean to you?


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