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When I started to crown
The doctor said “She’s got a thick head o’ hair!”
Without a doubt it was
Black
Soft
And thick
Every Bahamian mother’s dream
A little brown skinned beauty with a thick head
of hair

By the time I was 3 my hair grew longer
It also grew thicker
Wonder if my long hair was still a dream
come true
I remember at night before I went to bed
Mommy would grease my scalp and braid my hair
into Two ponytails

My long, black, thick hair

I enjoyed every finger massaging my crown with
‘Royal Crown.’

However, I was afraid of the comb
The very thought of those teeth ripping through
my locks
Brought tears to my eyes

Mommy must have gotten tired of my thick,
black hair
Because at the age of 7
She took me to the hairdresser for the first time in
my life

“Be a good girl” mommy says
“Do not give the hairdresser no problems!”

She left me in this place
Alone
I felt as if she did not love me anymore
And left me here as punishment
The few dirty words I knew I silently mumbled to
myself as I stepped into this new environment

As I sat down in the chairs lined against the wall
I took a moment to visually explore the
unfamiliar atmosphere
It smelled of burnt hair and potpourri
Colorful magazines lined the little coffee table in
front of me

And the walls were littered with pictures of
women with brilliant hairstyles
Candy Curls
Pinups
Ponytails
Bumps
Up do’s
And braids

My perception was beginning to change
This might actually be a good experience for me

“Come, sweetie”, the lady said
She held my hand
Sensing my fear
And led me to the shampoo place

“Sit back and keep still” a stern voice said
“You know these lil’ chirrren never is behave in
these kind of places”
“I don’t know why these parents is send dey
chirren to the hairdresser so young”

I tried to look up to see who was talking to me
But the hairdresser told me to sit back and
keep still

Just as the water cascaded down my hair
Gossip poured out of the mouths of the ladies in
that salon

“Girl you know Karen lil girl had baby last week?”
“I hear dat, and so young man.”
“Yeh girl she was 17, and the baby daddy 30 and
gat wife.”
“I hear his wife pregnant for one bus driver anyway”

I was intrigued
When I walked pass them before they seemed like
they were so regal and demure
I wanted to listen to them more
But the hair dryer seemed to drown out the
sounds of sweet gossip

“Keep still!” the scary lady says

She expected me not to move
While she tortured me with a fire breathing
blow dryer
Smacked my fingers with the comb so hard I was
sure she broke a bone
And pulled my hair so tight I had headaches for days

Three hours I spent in this place
In pain
In fear
In awe

Long, black, thick hair was transformed
Into a myriad of beautiful braids down my back

I couldn’t stop looking in the mirror
The compliments fed my ego
And I loved it

Mommy opened the door, and I ran to her with a
smile so dazzling it contended the brightness of
the sun
It was a smile filled with gratitude, love, and
complete bliss
“Oh, my little brown skin beauty”, she said