This post is sheer perfection…
by Carla Thomas
This week on social media: edges were snatched, a baby was talked about, and a girlfriend of a famous R&B singer was dragged by Black Twitter. Yet the irony is that it’s Black folks talking about Black folks. What is it with Black people and hair? Did India Arie’s 2006 song, “I Am Not My Hair” mean nothing? To me, it was the realest proclamation of how something that grows of out my scalp doesn’t define me. I’m not sweeter with cute hair. My hair doesn’t mean I’m saved. My hair doesn’t represent my kindness, my
love, my intelligence, or my wit.
My hair is simply a piece of a total package.
But some Black women will give their entire paycheck for a 12 inch Brazilian weave or they will skip the gym and ignore their growing gut but their hair is laid. And for some…
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