I just released the deepest exhale, when I started typing.
Here me out, these last few months have taken me on the ride of my life. I truly feel like I haven’t been able to properly keep up, or catch my breath before the next wave hits. (And apparently, I’m not alone in this)
While I have been fighting with self-reflection, identity, and unlearning, I’ve been faced with more physical grief with family, transitions, changes in relationships; you name it.
By the end of June, I felt like I was gasping for air. I just… I couldn’t take it anymore. The pressure had built up so much that I literally said, “That’s It.” Enough had occurred that I could no longer fake the funk.
I didn’t want to smile through anymore moments. I didn’t want to power through, or be a strong friend. I wanted to cry, I wanted to hold my friends through their waves, and I wanted to be held through mine.
I felt like I had been wearing a mask to cover up the many waves of life, and I didn’t want to feel like that anymore. So, I decided to shed a physical layer; one that scared me, but forced me to look in the mirror.
Here I insert the big chop. Yes, you heard me correctly.
I had been wearing braids for about a month and a half; loved them. It was getting close to time for a new appointment, and I booked for my usual “big curly hair” style that is easy to manage, but also made me feel like a star.
See, for me, hair became a mask. It was always big, bold, brought about attention, and made me feel important. If my hair was done, I was good. The moments where I felt off, or not as attractive, were usually days that I hadn’t been in somebody’s chair being transformed.
After beginning the journey of dissecting layers, I realized that this became a matter of performance for me. New hair, new identity, new character, always evolving, when in reality it was just a cover up. It was a “Oh, look at how pretty I am; Just don’t look at the tear stains on my face.”... Does that make sense?
Ehhh.
So, Racquel being Racquel made the one decision that made total sense; On July 1st, I cut the braids out of my hair at the ROOT. Mhm, I know.. I said, I cut those braids out, and all I was left with, was a butchered baby fro. THANKFULLY, I had a highly supportive friend on the phone, ready to talk through tears had I needed it, but I found myself smiling bigger with every chop.
The more I cut, the freer I felt. The more I cut, the more I realized… we can’t go back now babe. We gotta ride this out. Of course, I could always get a wig, but in Memphis it is Hell Hot, so if I look crazy, I’ll have to be true to the crazy. AT MOST, we can get a hat, but we’re locked into this.
By the time I was done chopping, I looked at my DIY cut, laughed and said “okay”. I had already made an appointment with my stylist the next day, for her to repair the damage, so I was optimistic, and knew we’d be okay.
Sigh
There’s more to this, but I needed to get this part out.
I’ll see you next week, I promise.
Thank you for being here.
Talk soon,
Racq