I woke up this morning and for the first time in 20 yrs., I took my hand and I caressed the essence of me. I ran my fingers through its twist and turns. I pulled and intertwined its twirled pieces. I acknowledged its thickness, I understood and accepted its God given beauty and I stroked its natural magnificence. This morning for the first time in 20 yrs., I was at peace and I was finally free. I had fallen in love, not with a man, not with some inanimate object or materialistic article. But I had finally fallen in love with me, not the new me but the reality of the true me.

I slowly got up out of bed and walked towards the mirror. It was not a dream. I had done it. I opened my eyes wider and my smile began to grow. With each stroke I became stronger and my pride began to rise. I was pleased with my new look. I stepped outside of the formalities of beautiful and I had cut my hair. Not just a new sharp haircut with man made angles and stylists given beauty. This new haircut was my special gift from God. I had cut away years of abuse and mistreatment. With each clump of processed and chemically worn hair that fell to the ground, so did years of lies and confusion. My hair was free and no matter what I had been taught, it was beautiful.

After moments of personal admiration, I decided to introduce myself to my immediate peers. How would people accept me? What kinds of looks would I get? Would my friends like it? Does this make me more black, too black or just black enough? These are all questions that popped into my mind. Of course I was proud, of course I looked beautiful but of course straight is better, right? Of course longer is prettier, right? Of course natural is nappy, right? Wrong, wrong and more wrong. The very same lies that I had thrown away jut hours before were trying to creep out and corrupt my existence once more. I shook myself, reminded myself that I had been freed, took one last glance in the mirror and again I began to rejoice in my newly found freedom. Again I realized that I am beautiful. The true, the real, and the unprocessed me.

In a society with so many misconceptions and fallacies, we as African-American women have to remind ourselves that we are Gods gifts. No we as African American women do not need to cut our hair and go natural but we need to cleanse ourselves from years of misconceptions. We must ask ourselves why do we spend hours creating ourselves and recreating what God has created as perfection. Just who and what are we trying to create? Do we do what we do to please our hearts or do we do what is expected and accepted?

Now whenever my hand wonders up to the tippy top of my head, I take a deep breath and I stroke the very core of my soul. When I take a peek in the mirror, I get a glimpse of God’s beauty. When I take a walk and drop-by-drop I began to feel the raindrops beating at the top of my being, I become one with nature. I myself become one with nature’s natural beauty and I am reminded that this morning is the first morning of my freedom and of my coming out and into the reality of me.