Dear younger me, Remember when you desperately wanted to shave your head, but your school wouldn’t allow any “inappropriate” hairdos? All you could do was push your hair back in pins, so it looked like you had an undercut? I think you would love how it looks now. In fact, I think you would love your hair now. I stopped blowdrying it, and I sat down to listen to the needs of it. I learned to stop treating it like an enemy, and more like a friend. I watered it, gave it love, and soon it began to blossom. You never really thought about how it would be like to have to take care of our hair. I know that you feel like it’s something that is never manageable, and you felt disgusted by it. You thought something so unmanageable would be considered ugly, but you just have been fed lies about it. One day, you’ll drop your hands over your ears and cross that line. You’ll realize that your hair isn’t your enemy. Your hair is beyond beautiful, hun. Your gonna be so proud of your curls and of the journey it took to get here. Learning to love your hair made you appreciate you.
And let me tell you, you get to finally love your brown skin, and it’s so relieving to do so. I know you didn’t quite understand your skin tone and didn’t want to. You covered your eyes and screamed, blocking the voice of self-love out because you didn’t think it was right. You’ll soon stop screaming, and instead, you’ll listen to the soft song of black love, accompanied by the sweet-smelling breeze of Carribean pride. You’ll soon take comfort in these, wrapping yourself in the uplifting atmosphere. You’ll one day grip your fist, and scream how much you love who you are from the rooftops. You’ll never be silent about who you are. I think you would be very proud of what we’ve become.