A Love Letter to my Hair
I was born with thick and dark hair on my head. There are pictures of me as a toddler with adorable soft little curls. Then in kindergarten, I had silky long waves. But those pictures represent a different time for my hair, a time I don’t remember.
My memories of my hair start with frustration. They start with anger at how tangled my hair would get. I was filled with disdain for how different my hair made me look and how difficult it was.
My hair when I was younger
My hair was a process. I would wash it and spend what felt like hours brushing it out in the shower. I went through bottles of conditioner faster than any other product I used. I swear, there was never enough moisture to make my hair not feel dry.
I would stare into the mirror, begging my hair to do something that would make it look “normal.” My version of normality was the societal norm: wavy hair. The type of hair that was consistent, simple, and attractive. Instead, I was stuck with big, poofy, thick, undefined hair. I hated it.
By the end of my freshman year of high school, I was completely fed up. I cut my hair around my shoulders, getting rid of my bleached and dead ends, hopefully giving it a chance to heal. I liked it short. It was simpler.
While it still wasn’t exactly how I wanted it to be, it wasn’t as bad as it used to be. Cutting it gave me the opportunity to start somewhat with a clean slate. My hair wasn’t as damaged. It wasn’t as thick. I was able to find days where I liked how my curls looked.
Before I cut my hair short - January and Spring Break respectively
I slowly started to take care of my hair. Over the next couple of months, I began to give it more attention. I would rake hair products through my hair instead of leaving it completely barren. The difference was small. It was a bit softer. It looked a bit shinier. I was still learning. But, the biggest change started happening when I forced myself to focus on my hair. I was stuck at home, just like the rest of the world because of the COVID-19 pandemic.
I was tired of looking at hair that wasn’t healthy, that wasn’t what it could be. I let my trained stepmom thin/trim my hair, and then I got to work. I was determined to figure out how to understand my hair.
The potential was there. I started experimenting with a variety of products and tried to style my hair in a variety of ways. I played with brands like Shea Moisture and Miss Jessie’s. I discovered that my favorite hairstyle was pulling my hair out of my face with a claw clip – a product that worked well to hold my mound of curls. I researched products with proven success for similar hair types to mine.
Currently, I’m using shampoo and conditioner formulated for curly hair. It took me a surprisingly long time to use products meant for curly hair on my curly hair. Not because I rejected the notion of my curly hair or anything like that, but I was being misled by people who supposedly knew better. I trusted the hairdressers who took care of me, and for some reason, it never even crossed my mind to use any sort of additional product in my hair. I found that using something as simple as gel helped me authentically see a difference.
The curls in my hair are defined and noticeable. It’s not perfect. It’s something I’m still developing and practicing with. But, I’m trying to give up my ideas of how I think my hair should be and what I think it should look like. My hair is unique.
Some of my favorite pictures of my hair as of late
For me, my hair has been a point of contention for years. I can link my hair very closely to my ethnicity. It’s one of the things that makes me look ethnic. As a Latina (Puerto Rican and Cuban) my hair very obviously stems from my origins. However, most stereotypical Latina’s don’t have the big curly hair I have. They tend to have more controlled wavy hair, like Camilla Cabello or Alexandria Ocasio Cortez. I never saw anyone who had my hair type.
I grew up in San Diego, California, with my parents. My mother keeps her hair short and has a different texture than my hair. None of my cousins have a similar hair type either. Even visiting relatives in Puerto Rico, my hair stood out.
As a result, hair is one of the first features I notice in actresses or celebrities because of how lonesome my hair can make me feel. This makes it doubly frustrating. But, my hair is loud and authentic just like I am. I always get complimented on my hair, and it used to annoy me immensely. How was it fair that all of these people loved my hair when I couldn’t even understand how to make it look nice? Now, I take those compliments in stride.
My first step towards being in love with my hair is acceptance. This is my hair. I need to learn how to take care of it so it looks amazing. I document the days where I love how it looks and focus on finding a routine that works for me. I want to feel confident with the hair that connects me to my culture, and I’m on that road now. It can be hard to love something that isn’t always easy to take care of. My hair is work. But at the end of the day, it is beautiful. I’d rather lean into beauty than complain about the imperfections.
Written by Laila Del Rio
