Art, Culture, Books and Travel

Poem: My Hair

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I didn’t want to get out of bed
I needed to sort out what was on my head

Should I have it curly or should I have it straight or should I let the salon determine my fate
Remembering my dreadful past I think I’m going to be late

I think most of these hairdressers need to be trained

If I learn this myself my hair will always be maintained
And spreading the knowledge so much will be gained

I’m a genius if my hair wasn’t kinky

50 years of products that are damaging just to keep it from being stinky

But why is it falling out
Is this what being a black woman is all about?

Now my hair feels like a toy
I made the conscious decision to see Joy

It started with the perfect parting
Now my hair is long and lasting
I thank God by fasting

It’s thick just like my hips and my customer will leave me tips

Hair braiding
Now our people are not complaining

Our faith in our culture is stronger
Because our hair is longer

The wounded hair is been in our history

The correct treatment is not a mystery

Our future is not the relaxer
So stop using it so you can avoid a disaster

We need to educate
Because it’s not too late

If we don’t help ourselves a lot will be at stake

Look at these women on the street
Instead of looking what’s on my feet

They need to stop burning their hair with heat

I have learned now it’s your turn
Or our hair will forever burn

By Lloyd Adejubu

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