I had such an incredible hair cut & color session w/@shaiamiel at the capellasalon. After my curl transformation I shared w/him this poem:
"Sisterhood of the Curly Cartel"
Somewhere in America
Perhaps this very moment,
A curl is dying.
Every hydrated ounce is
Sometimes held hostage
We launch chemical warfare
On the very essence of our spirit:
Wild, free, unbridled-
Under the bitter oppressive dictate
of the hot iron thumb
Brown girls take iron to hand
Hand to fist
Heat to hair and
Make tresses play a cacophony of sounds that string flat.
Teased into philharmonic plucked “perfection”
We spend hours
Attacking goddess given coils with
Hot oils and sprays
Fighting the very parts of ourselves
That makes us fierce, fabulous and ferocious.
We press and curl
Ignoring dna’d intention
Losing aspects of self
That make us uniquely us;
Kinky, quirky, coily, beautiful
In a world dead-set on erasure
We often forget
Our natural hair is more miracle than monster.
More majesty than mediocre
A magnificently marvelous mane of a crown
Bestowed atop the peak of our heads.
Convinced of foreign standards,
Didn’t you know brown is the new blue
Breedlove? breathe Love
Find what works for you specifically
Move from straight laced margins to curled and proud center,
Remembering the master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house,
Or his standards of beauty.
Embrace your own.
And though their eyes may very well be the bluest
Your eyes are watching God
Shining in the curled resistance colored girls once dreamed of
When the rainbow was finally enuf
We are born of a tradition of natural haired womyn warriors;
Fist in the air, pen on the pad, curls in the breeze
So stop cowering away from sprinkles of misplaced moisture
And baptize your strands in saturated self-love.
Our hair has been made slave under the hot iron dictate for far too long.
Remember the grass is greenest where you water it
(And moisturize with Devacurl)
So break down those straight shackles, and bounce freely beloved curls.
From this day forward I’ll be
Proudly rockin’ this uncontrollable
Garland of “good hair”
With these ringlet, wreaths of freedom
Shouting from the mountaintop
Gather round dear sisters
The truth no longer secret
The sisterhood of the curly cartel has now been called to order
Oh hadn’t you heard?
Only royalty can rock this kind of headdress so diva.
© Yazmin Monet Watkins
My lil sis.