In the simplest terms, I’m a black girl whose family history is primarily tied to the South. A decent portion of the last and current generation do reside in the northeast of America, but any semblance of family history is buried deep within Southern soil and severed familial ties. Being someone of this ethnicity, media has always told me either my hair was ugly or my skin was too dark. Sometimes, it was a mixture of both. I have always been a resident of the Bronx, so it was rare in the early 2000s to see a black girl whose mother hadn’t decided to tame her natural curls with a relaxer. Chemically straightened hair was normal. Nobody wanted to be called nappy headed -- be it through whispers of the adults of the neighborhood or the girls you played in the school yard. I avoided my fate of chemical hair treatments all the way until the fourth grade. However, it became clear that the kiddie relaxer had damaged my hair. Apparently, this was a normal occurrence for girls from my dad’s side of the family. I was a kid, so I didn’t understand the new, fragile state of my hair. I only knew that my hair wasn’t as nice as it used to be. Fast forward a few years later and the black community has been going through a self-love revival. African hair and beauty store shelves are lined with products similar to Cantu shea butter, a natural hair moisturizer. They’re products specifically for women, like me, who want to reclaim the former beauty they never thought their hair had.

– Mennett

Relationship:  Great-grandchild of im/migrant or more Great-grandchild of im/migrant or more