Personal Narrative: Becoming A Black Woman

I remember the first time my mother took me to get my hair straightened. I clenched her hand as we walked into the salon. Beautiful women lined every station, bickering about their husbands, gossiping about neighbors, all managing to stay intertwined in every conversation. It was rapid; it was raw, it made me smile. I remember the smell, the fetid ooze of creams wafting over the stations. A question formed on my lips, “They’re putting that on my hair?” and my mother smiled. I remember how I felt sitting at the epicenter of black womanhood, waiting as the stylist mixed an elixir that would make me fair skinned, with lighter eyes. Transforming the girl that I used to be into something other than herself.
Growing up, every month I would go to that salon to get my hair straightened. …show more content…
From being labeled as “the angry feminist,” or the girl who wasn't black enough, etc. I found it uncomfortable to be a black woman. But, in the process of my self-healing, I've realized how empowering it is to be black and proud. I’ve also realized how important it is to stay in check of my privilege. At first, I was in denial about my opportunities, call it cognitive dissonance, but my feelings toward my rights were problematic. I began to realize privilege isn't measured by the amount of money that lines my pockets, but the quality relationships I have with family and the rights I'm awarded as a straight, cisgendered woman. I’ve taken the time to acknowledge that I am no longer the little girl who sat in the salon and let pieces of her identity be stripped away from her. I am self-assured in who I am. Though I have always viewed myself as an outsider looking in, It wasn’t until recently that I regarded myself as an insider, looking out at the beautiful world I live in, wondering how I ever related to those on the outside, to begin