Dear Black Girl with the Havana Twists,
You should know that when I was a little girl, I wanted to be just like you. I still do. My straight, weightless, Asian strands pale in comparison to your bold, textured twists that weave seamlessly and intricately into one another, becoming entirely one with you. Emerging from the highest part of your body like a crown of beautiful, black, feminist glory.
I hope you know that it was worth the four excruciating hours it took for you to create those twists. I imagine Madam C.J. Walker looking upon you, beaming with pride. Pride that will exude from each and every one of those twists just as soon as you step out of that beauty salon.
Sometimes I watch you and your friends and I can't help but feel jealous of your connection to one another - the unspoken language, hair terms that I am not privy to, shared beauty experiences that bond you into sisterhood.
I know it's just hair, but when I see you, I see strength and courage. I see a daring, adventurous spirit. I see a defiance against centuries of messages meant to rob you of the belief in your own beauty. I don't see wool. Nappy. Extreme. Fad. I see your legacy. I see your history. I see your strong and beautiful foremothers on the West coast of another continent across the world - foremothers who will always define your very essence, no matter where you are.
Some girls dream of free, flowing locks, the kind of hair a guy can run their fingers through. Not me. I would kill to have the complexities......and layers.....and richness of the curves and turns of each and every carefully hand-crafted Havana twist.
You don't need me to tell you this, because you already know.
You are beautiful.
I thought you should know.
Sincerely,
The brown girl with the straight hair
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