Standing Tall

We wrestle, I tug, we attach, we bond. My fingers finally find a rhythm and start to flow. I feel privileged and humbled to be doing her hair. I feel very inadequate but willing to learn. I feel proud as she shows off her new "do" to daddy. I know we both have a long way to go but for a moment I feel proud. Her hair is still short and the options are limited but I am trying. She is getting used to the pulling and I liken it to when your child has to teach themselves to fall asleep without your rocking and singing. It breaks your heart to hear them cry but you know this is for the best. You still occasionally sneak in to pat them on the back or tuck them back in with a kiss. I sometimes don't tug as hard when she looks at me with her big eyes and says "ouch" but I tell her that they have to be tight to stay in. I repeat the names of her friends who also sit through long hair sessions. I repeat a phrase that I heard growing up "beauty is pain". I watch her walk away taking a quick glance in the mirror and walking a little taller.



I get it - there will be times when I can't explain why things are different for her. When I can't fully understand where she is coming from and what she is feeling. I won't always be there to answer strangers' prying and sometimes judgemental questions. But I can honor her past and do my part to help her feel that she fits in. As a family we can be a part of the future and for today I will stand tall.



"To all children of African descent, may they find in their past the strength to shape their future." E. Greenfield



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