It is hard to not love wigs when you have a tight curl pattern. When your hair is full of 4c coils, you tend to gravitate to wigs. Having a big head, I used to always go to my local beauty supply store to search for curly wigs.
At first, I loved you wig. You were my quick fix to a bad hair day. I hate getting a re-twist on my locs because I don’t like foreign hands in my hair. But I loved foreign hair on top of my hair. It made me feel like a new person. Longer, big, vivacious hair made me feel exotic. Wig you made me feel Brazilian. You made me feel partially Indian. You made me feel biracial although I am 100% African American. You took away the title of ” oh she’s just a nappy-headed hood-rat ” and replaced it with “she’s bad, she must be mixed”. You made me feel wild and free. Like I could get hired at a higher paying job with you on. Like I could get a white man to ask me out with European strands on top of my head. Like I could walk a runway at a fashion event and not be called racial slurs. Like I could sit down with Michelle Obama and not feel out of place because even the former First Lady rocks a white woman-like wig frequently.
But now I hate you. You eroded the baby hairs that I used to cherish. My receding hairline is because of you. You made be pat my head vigorously because I could not reach the top of my scalp. My head appeared bigger in the mirror because of you. You made guys become more attracted to me, not because I was naturally being me, but because the length and smooth strands made me appear to be mixed. You made me not want to be natural and to just always take the shortcuts in my hair life. Loving you transformed my appearance, but harmed the health of my hair. Loving you made fake friends call me a hooker because I always had a different hairstyle. Loving you made me love myself less.
Maybe one day I will love you again. I loved the way you touched the middle of my back like my real hair never had. The way I feel asleep with you on when I was too exhausted to take you off. The way you made me feel like I was a new person. Like I could have a whole new identity. Because sometimes I don’t like my external appearance. I don’t like the hurtful stereotypes inflicted on me because of my kinky curls. Because of my ethnic background. Maybe one day I will want that fancy high-paying job where I have a rich white man as a boss at a popular big corporation. Chances, are without you on, they won’t give my resume a second look. We all know wearing locs reduces the chances of me getting hired.
But for now, I have broken up with you. So you can go embrace the scalp of another beautiful woman.
I feel freer without you.