My hair speaks to the promise land,
Windless years of slavery, discrimination and destruction by the upper hand,
I was given an image, a standard of beauty, that neglected my natural essence,
I became what society wanted and not what my heritage sewed into the fabric of my existence,
I get shamed and condemned by societal norms for letting my hair live in its natural state, and accepting my curls as part of my identity,
But when people outside my race wears the same hairdo it somehow becomes “trendy” and “new, meanwhile these so-called trends have been ingrained into my lifestyle since the beginning of ancient civilizations,
I turn on the tv and see commercials, celebrities, and fashion shows introducing these hairstyles as a new and hip art form that has just been discovered,
While I fight to keep my naturality,
When I look at my curls I don’t see a trend,
I see my identity, my roots, my history, mi herencia, mi yo,
But when the westernized ideals adapt this new “trend” I become less transparent, ausente
What I see is not just a trend, it’s not new, and it’s not just a hairstyle,
I see black heritage that has spanned generations and continents.