I decided to perm my hair after 18 years of being natural. I felt like a hypocrite for judging other women for doing the same. Well… now, I get it. Nothing too dramatic happened, it just simply became too much for my much “different-now” lifestyle. I first decided to relax the relaxer my sophomore year in college; I was box perming at the time in my dormitory. I noticed that my curls were becoming more and more resistant to the creamy crack. On one of my college cohorts suggestions, I visited a salon to try what she called a “blowout”. She claimed that this service was the answer to my anti-curl struggle, even if temporarily, without the cost or the chemical damage. (I wasn’t aware of “heat damage” at the time). Needless to say, that day in 2002, on one of the highest hills in Tallahassee, Florida, was my last relaxer. I. Was. Hooked. I was getting a $25 blow out every 2 weeks, in spite of the jealous humid Florida climate. I still remember the wash that showed my true texture and curl pattern, sans relaxer. I felt stronger and in control – like I’d overcome a lifetime depression. I remember my Grama’s first time seeing my hair in this natural state. She said, “girl, won’t you do something to that hair?” What she meant was, why isn’t it straight? I moved the city. Here, natural hair was accepted, embraced, and even encouraged. The Dominicans in Atlanta had the “blow-out” market on natural-hair lock! Now $35, in 2006, I was still sold and all about the chemical free straightness. Hair life was great, and the Florida humidity didn’t exist in The city. There, I learned more about embracing my natural texture as well as different, more accommodating styles, without the heat damage. Twist outs, rod sets, two strand twist, etc. Hair life was good. Not long after, I was faced with a family emergency that brought me back to small-town Florida. One day, back home, I walked into a salon filled with familiar faces, my natural curls abound. The salon owner took one look at my hair and said, “if you’re not getting a perm you may as well turn around.” I was embarrassed and saddened, though grateful she did not take on the unfamiliar project that is my back length, kinky-curly, wavy thick-textured hair. For months, I wore ponytails, buns, French braids, and other not-so-polished natural hairstyles, which drew a lot of negative attention in my conservative town. I received the same energy from my mostly black work environment. I recall a day a coworker said I looked like a “wet dog” and that’s why she “can’t do the natural thing”. I was hurt by her words, which later turned into anger, then into motivation. This was 2008. Buy 2012, the family life had returned to perceived normalcy, and I happily prepared to return to the city. First stop? You guessed it. Dominican salon. I quickly got a job and started over on my ambitious journey of auditions and job interviews (I wanted to be an actress). This hustle was short lived as a little over a year later, my mom died, and I, again, had to return… HOME. Here, I was always known as “Keisha with the good hair”, or, “Long-haired Keisha”. So coming back home displaying the shrinkage of natural curls, was less than acceptable for most. I traveled 60 miles for my first “blow out” so that I could go to my first interview. My hair stayed straight for about 30 minutes after it was blown out. I then decided to invest in a $100 Chi flat iron to manage the curly spots. This helped, a little. At this point, I decided to get weaved box braids to buy me some time to figure out life, all over again. Then… I got pregnant. Six months later I was married, 2 months after that I was a mom, again. Baby number 2 came with budget cuts that I wasn’t prepared for. I’d forgotten how much daycare and diapers cost as my first son was 8. So, it was back to French braids and ponytails at home. Just when the baby was out of diapers and I was back in my favorite jeans, here comes baby number three. Lots of braids during this pregnancy, and lots of hair loss. After she was born, money was tighter than ever. And my confidence had never been so low. Bald spots, weigh gain and no money for clothes that fit. Taking care of my hair became a faint memory. So not only was I in a small town with salons that could not care for or style my hair, I simply did not have time or money to do so myself. I no longer had $65 for a blowout or two hours uninterrupted for a twist out. Things got better when the baby turned 2. My husband forced me to take time for myself and take care. Since we still did not have money for regular salon visits, I used this time to exercise. I could exercise without the guilt of my hair reverting to its natural state. I lost 20 pounds and started to feel more like myself again, just with less edges. At this point, after all of the canceled hair appointments, clogged sinks and drains, sick kids, and other priorities, 18 years has been enough for me. I’m busier (and more broke) than I’ve ever been. I’ve tried all of the expensive hair products and I love them all, but my wallet has suffered. And of course, all three of my children were born with long, super curly, thick, beautiful hair. And theirs has become my priority. The truth is, I’ll miss my curls. The reality is, however, they’ll be back; perhaps not the same, perhaps in a few years. I’ve learned not to judge or criticize other people for their hair or life choices. And I’ll be honest to those with questions about transitioning by sharing MY experience. In the end, nothing last forever. So if you so choose, relax and do you.