There is a dissatisfaction that paints each fiber of who I am. It’s not self hatred, or some narcissistic coloring of the completely subjective, and totally obscure analysis of my own being. It’s is quite simply the fact that I hate my hair. I have done everything in my power to love it. Tried all ways: Shaping. Cutting. Braiding. Weaving. Shaving… Relaxing. The this way; the that way. I’ve tried leaving it the fuck alone! But nothing settles the ache I feel when I look at myself. It’s also not this desperate need for other peoples validation. It’s not society, or an adherence to unrealistic beauty standards. And it’s not a lack of self love and acceptance. I LOVE who I am. But I still hate what my hair does.

Validation that’s sweet like candy, but it makes me sick. Too much of it poisons my well making it hard for me to fish out a clean, clear, refreshing sense of self. I hate my hair.

and I think that’s fine.