Tough Skin

HAIR by demonicblackcat

Hair by demonicblackcat

When I was 10 years old, my whole life was changed.

I was a deeply insecure person. I still am, but I'm learning how to manage my own thoughts. As an adult of 25 year old now, I take meds to feel normal and had burnt more bridges because of my 'episodes'. I needed child psychiatrist to get through junior high, and I nearly got expelled in high school because I caused too much trouble for the teachers. My child psychiatrist had said that I had a genius level IQ, but the EQ of a five year old.

That meant that I would be horribly, horribly miserable.

One of these problems stemmed from the feeling of being 'not good enough' and wanting to be the top dog of everything.

And that meant having a great physical appearance.

My hair didn't give me that option.

I was born with the typical east-asian hair. Straight, dark-colored, with thick strands that weren't easy to break. I liked my hair. I liked playing with it, took pride on it, secretly thanked my genes whenever adults complimented my hair. But then, one day, the texture magically changed.

I didn't know what happened, but my hair started to have kinks. Lots of it. And it became dryer than the Sahara. It started to have curls and it started to look like an afro. I was 10 at that time, and I was very much aware at how impactful it would be towards my appearance.

By the time I reached junior high, I knew that I couldn't be pretty with this faulty hair. I lived in Asia so didn't know what to do with it. Nobody knew how to do with it. Asians didn't usually have this kind of hair. All of my friends could have this nice, face-framing hairstyle and I was stuck in either a ponytail or a black-colored pyramid on top of my head. The kids started to call me Lion, because my hair made me look like one.

I started to get obsessed with my hair. I tried all sort of DIY remedies. I started flat ironing, which made it even dryer. I even tried to cut it into pixie style, which had made me look like a boy for a year, in the hopes that my hair would grow back straighter. I could stay up all night thinking about my hair and how my life could have been much better if only I had nicer hair. It didn't make sense, but for some reason, that was all I could think about.

One day, after getting a permanent Japanese straightening treatment for the fourth time, my hair started to fall out. My once thick, kinky, curly hair had now become limp, lifeless, and very thin. When I brush my hair, lots of it would fall out. When I washed my hair, lots of black strands would end up on my feet. I was horrified and scared. Better to have bad hair than no hair at all, right?

And better to love your body the way it is than forcing your own body to change, right?

That was what I started to do. Loving my hair. Loving the way they're so annoyingly coarse. Loving the way they just have flyaways all over my head whenever I go out. Loving the way they don't swish the way other people's hair swish whenever they walk or run. I let it grow, and I started to take my mind off my hair. I still put heat on them whenever I needed to style them, or if I want to impress somebody, but most of the time I just let them be.

And even with my faulty hair, even with my non-conforming strands of black mess, I can still like what I see in the mirror.

It was a long struggle of 20 years, but it was one I needed to have.

Thank you so much to Cat for sharing this strong and powerful piece. Truly beautiful inside and out.