The crimpy curls I woke up to after sleeping in braids as a little girl brought me a feeling of joy I now spend everyday chasing as a young woman. I loved every moment building up to this feeling – my mom brushing and braiding my hair before bed, waking up in anticipation, then carefully taking down my hair to reveal the curves and corners of bouncy waves. Something so simple had the ability to lift me up, riddle me with joy, and earn the adoring gaze of my classmates. Their sweet compliments and envious eyes made me love my ginger curls more and more each time I wore them. Nothing could replace this feeling.
In those times, I needed nothing more than a few waves in my hair and maybe some sparkly sneakers to feel like the most beautiful girl alive. These simple things acted as essential tools in my imaginative sense of self, and through them I stood tall, laughed loudly, and smiled brightly. Throughout my childhood I felt radiant, irreplaceable, and full of love.
When did that all go away?
The older I got, the more issues I found with my post-braids hairdo. The curls didn’t start high enough. The part in my hair was uneven. The color was wrong. The ends bent weird. I started to change my beloved pathway to what was once assured confidence. Add a braid, take one away. Braid only when hair is wet. When hair is dry. Put half of it up. Try a Dutch braid, try a French. None of these substitutions, changes, or alterations could bring back that feeling I once had, that striking confidence I carried only as a little girl. No matter what I did, what I changed, something was always wrong. Always off. Always ugly.
In high school I began straightening my hair every morning. Self tanning. Ditching my collared shirts and denim for the Texas-famous lululemon shorts and big-enough-to-drown-in t-shirt combo. After moving twice already, I wanted nothing more than to fit in, to be liked, to be loved. I was looking to others for the feeling I once could easily give myself with just two braids.
What no one tells you in high school is that nobody is happy, nor does anybody feel good about themselves. Maybe, for a few fleeting moments, you feel beautiful walking through the halls. But why is that? Is it the name brand leggings your peers love but your parents struggle to afford? Are you happy with how your makeup looks because you covered up flaws pointed out to you that you otherwise would never have noticed? Are you confident in your body because it sustains you, or because a boy pointed out curves you never saw and told you he enjoyed them? Do you truly enjoy dressing up and getting ready, or do you only feel valuable after you do so?
Adolescence robbed me of any sense of self-love I once possessed. The voice in my head reminding myself of my worth and beauty today isn’t even my own – it belongs to the little girl I once was. Sometimes I still feel like her, only duller and smothered by years of self ridicule and constant anxiety. The voice I hear most now is a messy collection of disapproving thoughts that sting and chip away at me. This story will not end with magical tips on what you can do to feel like your child self again. If I knew how to rekindle those feelings I wouldn’t be sitting in my university’s coffee shop, pouring my heart out with an aching head and puffy eyes all before noon. What I do know, though, is that we all dreamed of growing up at some point in our childhood. My younger self would be looking at me now with adoring eyes and so much love, too young to see my stress or the signs of my struggling. Her youth only lets her see my worth, my maturity, my beauty, my accomplishments. She would look to me with awe, excited to grow into the version of herself that lives across the country from where she grew up, the version that has fallen in love, the girl that’s finally as tall as she always hoped she’d be. She would love that I’m embracing the same red hair that I once tried to drown out with a bright blonde, the hair she loves and braids so proudly. She would love my clothes, my smile, and what I chose to study. She would be proud that I treat people kindly, help others before myself, and still remember all of those amazing weekend vacations with mom.
While I may only briefly feel the joy I possessed as a young girl, I find peace knowing that at 19 I am already everything I once wanted to be. I feel emotions now that I didn’t as a child, understand people in a way I couldn’t before, and feel safe in my ability to protect myself and in my persistence to constantly speak my mind. I’ve decided when I struggle to find my younger self, I will braid my hair.