A letter to my young Black self about Afro hair

You don’t owe that audience anything (Picture: Hilary Hanslin) Dear younger me, I know how you’re feeling. I know how frustrated and devalued you feel when the Touchers touch your hair. How it makes you feel like you’re on display for anyone to point and stare at. You hate it when you use the homemade mixtures of shea and castor oil brought with us from Ghana, only for people to comment on how ‘greasy’ your hair is. You’re confused why wearing silk wraps and bonnets designed to protect your hair from damage earn you the label of ‘ghetto’ and ‘chavy’. You’re questioning why your peers think it’s hilarious to say that your cornrows, crafted with precision and talent and make you feel so confident, look like snakes. And you find it weird that girls poke and peer and prod at your ‘frizzy’ fro, mocking your ‘mane’. You’re right to feel all this way. You will go on to make more of a difference than you could ever imagine (Picture: Hilary Hanslin) I know that, alongside the injustice and cruelty of it all, you also feel a sense of hopelessness about the difference you can make. Ask Metro Use AI to go deeper into the stories you care about – powered by Metro and trusted publications. You feel that you’re only capable of expressing your experiences to a certain point before the listener grows fidgety and your words get quieter. It’s important that you know that you’re not too sensitive, or overthinking, you simply deserve an audience far more respectful and open-minded when you choose to speak. And for the moments when you choose not to speak, it is entirely within your right. You don’t owe that audience anything. Beyond everything else, don’t feel disheartened. You will go on to make more of a difference than you could ever imagine. I’m here to tell you that you will inspire, impact, and educate. The other Black girls will confide and relate with you through laughs and stories of their own (Picture: Hilary Hanslin) Classmates will eventually begin to ask about your hair with respect and admiration, rather than treating it like a visit to the petting zoo. The other Black girls will confide and relate with you through laughs and stories of their own. Your little sister will grow up unafraid to call people out, and excited to dabble in the variety of hairstyles her glorious 4C coils have to offer. But time has a funny way of rewriting the rules. The hands of those who called your hair greasy now rummage through their local Boots or Holland and Barret to acquire the finest grade of castor oil and shea butter with the hopes of making their hair look silky and shiny. Our bonnets are now all the rage. On social media, white girls ritualistically tie their bonnets with a neat bow and rave about the matching silk pillowcase. The girls who mocked your fro now desperately try to uncover that they’ve had curly hair all along (Picture: Hilary Hanslin) Those cornrows you loved and that got so harshly criticised – streets are dotted with white girls wearing similar braids, but the styles re-named and no credit in sight as they are praised for their creativity and are crowned as trendsetters. And the girls who mocked your fro now desperately try to uncover that they’ve had curly hair all along. They spend hundreds on diffusers, curling creams and definers, determined to nail ‘The Curly Girl method’ hair routine. You’ll come to understand that the code to stop microaggressions entirely, is yet to be cracked. But with time, and in certain moments, you’ll also be able to find humour in the absurdity. I want you to feel hope (Picture: Hilary Hanslin) Don’t get me wrong, we aren’t perfect. We still tell the occasional lie when asked ‘How often do you wash your hair?’, worried about getting judged for not conforming to our white counterparts’ schedule of ‘every other day’. Sometimes we still feel slightly nervous in the hours leading up to the moment a friend who’s never seen our natural hair before first sets eyes on our head. But in this moment, writing to you, I want you to feel hope. No matter what, continue to live by the words of Angela Davis: ‘Don’t accept the things you cannot change, but change the things you cannot accept’. Continue to wear your box braids, cornrows, and coils with pride, not shame. Our hair is not an inconvenience, or an invitation. It is ours. And if anyone needs reminding of that, it only takes four words: ‘Don’t touch my hair’. With all the love our hair deserves, Hilary Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Ross.Mccafferty@metro.co.uk. Share your views in the comments below. Arrow MORE: I found out I wasn’t a psychopath – it was disappointing Arrow MORE: Yasmin’s vitiligo representation in Love is Blind could change lives Arrow MORE: I thought dealing with power cuts was easy – then the lights went out Puzzles Newsletter Get your favourite puzzles when they are ready to play on the website sent directly to you every day and track your daily streak!