Crazy for Keratin

If my hair were a man, I would dump him. It constantly disappoints me, refuses to cooperate, and shows me no love. And though it's totally unnecessary for my physical health, it demands more attention than my heart, liver, and kidneys combined. I never spent hours crying over my stomach or wished that I had a different pancreas. But my crazy curls are a real heartbreaker. Sometimes they dry into perfect ringlets à la Whitney Houston circa 1996, but mostly they just frizz up with some curls, some inexplicably straight pieces and a lot of volume. I'm talking Harlem Globetrotter volume. And did I mention that the length has been known to change from day to day based on how vigorously I dry it or which products I use? Forget breaking up with my hair—I'd shave it all off if I could afford those really good wigs Tina Turner uses. (Article continued below...)

 

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My attempts to come to terms with my mane have resulted in some really bad haircuts. My sophomore year in college: a really unfortunate Mohawk. My early 20s: a gold (gold!!) mullet. By my late 20s, I had relaxed my hair into a dry frizzy mess that only curled at the roots and the ends … not a good look. So, it's not a mystery that I spent most of my 30s wearing a bun or a ponytail. I had given up. Oh sure, sometimes I would pay a few dollars to get a blow dry or a deep condition, but I really had to stop thinking about it. My cousin used to tease me that if I only learned how to do my hair, I wouldn't have so many problems. Yeah, OK, whatever. I'm not that kind of girl. I cannot spend hours and hours in front of the mirror with a flat-iron. I don't have the patience, the dexterity or the desire. I just want to wash it, put some goop in it, and go. But, as I've come to realize, wash and go is the holy grail of black hair. Our hair tends to be curly or kinky, dry and brittle and prone to the frizz. This means three things:

1. If I were to simply wash my hair and let it dry, it would look like a combination of a pimp from a blaxploitation film and an old mop.

2. Any extreme measures I could take to change my hair completely—such as a relaxer or those Japanese straightening treatments—would result in breakage. And, that's very, very bad. I may joke about shaving my head, but baldness would put me in a mental hospital. Really.

3. Since most hair products are made for Caucasian hair, which tends toward the oily and straight side, when they're applied to my hair, they don't do anything. Except give me a less-extreme pimp-mop style.