Personal Narrative: The State Of My Hair

“You want to do WHAT?” my mother asked. I glanced around the living room, trying to avoid her intense stare. “I said I’m going to cut my hair,” I replied timidly. My mother always had high standards for her daughters, wishing nothing but the best for us in all of our endeavors. With that being said, one of her pride and joys was the state of our hair. Growing up, I maintained a curtain of dark hair that swept past my waist. Every single morning from ages five to twelve, I would sit on the scratchy carpet in our living room, while my mom would braid the long strands of hair.
It was there on the floor of my family’s living room in sleepy little Moss Point, Mississippi where I became unique.
We would talk about the world, with me asking questions with childlike wonder. My mother would kindly smile and answer all of my questions in a way only mothers could, and tug my hair into a long braid that was perpetually there. My long hair was a massive part of my identity, since a large …show more content…
I began to take these comments in my stride, keeping my chin up and ignoring the judging looks. I eventually came to accept that I am my own person. It was at that point where I stepped out of my sisters’ shadows and became an individual. When given criticism, I would kindly smile and thank the naysayers for their opinions and continue about my business. Eventually, people began to warm up to my cropped hair, with some even complimenting my new look, putting a smile on my face.
Ever since I was a little girl, I have always been introverted and shy, preferring to live in the shadows of my sisters. No matter what I did, my achievements were always placed on par with theirs. I lived in a proverbial glass box of expectations and comparisons. For me, cutting my hair was my way of breaking out of that box. I moved away from the shadows and stepped into the light for myself as an individual, a trait that transcends into my life