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My First Relaxer. Or "The Last Time I Saw My Natural Hair".
It was the summer before I started third grade, and it was like a family event. A coming of age hosted right in my grandmother's kitchen. My sister, Keisha (one year my younger), and I were the center of it as my mother, grandmother, and aunts all gathered around us.
Keisha, and I sat in chairs across from each other as they parted our hair and prepared our scalps with a thick protective oil.
I recall thinking that the oil was thicker and not as fragrant as the oil (or "hair grease" as it was sometimes called) that had been the staple product for my haircare until that point. Before my first relaxer, my natural curls had been tamed with the help of hair grease into French braids, beaded braids (my favorite!), braided ponytails and even the occasional heat straightened style. All of which were time-consuming to create and yielded short-lived results.
The event taking place in my grandmother's kitchen was the solution to that lopsided equation of effort vs. results. Every woman in the room had already invested a generous amount of time into the upkeep of our hair; so it was only fitting that they were all there to ring in the new low-maintenance chapter of our hair story.
After our scalps were prepped and ready, the thick creamy relaxer was applied to our sectioned hair with a paintbrush shaped applicator. I remember the initial cool sensation as the cream came in contact with my scalp. Not bad...
Two minutes later, it was burning.
Around my hairline, through the parts and into the crown, it burned everywhere. My oldest aunt asked me where it hurt, and began dabbing the neutralizing shampoo on my head wherever I pointed. Supposedly that helps stop the burning. It doesn't. From the first application of cream to the hair, the entire relaxing process should take about 10 minutes or so. At minute 5, I was squirming in my seat, proverbial smoke coming from my ears.
If you want to know what it feels like, light a match and put your hand over it. Now take the flame and set your hair on fire. It's like that, only wet.
My sister, with her annoyingly high threshold for pain, sat across from me, relaxer all over her head, stoic. I think I lasted two more minutes before my agony prompted my caretakers to rinse the cream from my hair. After shampooing three times to ensure all traces of the relaxer were removed and conditioning to protect my strands from breakage, I was invited to touch my newly straightened hair, which would no longer curl after coming in contact with water or sweat.
I reached up and felt the wet silky mass atop my head. And just like that, I forgot the pain. I was hooked.
Keisha, and I sat in chairs across from each other as they parted our hair and prepared our scalps with a thick protective oil.
I recall thinking that the oil was thicker and not as fragrant as the oil (or "hair grease" as it was sometimes called) that had been the staple product for my haircare until that point. Before my first relaxer, my natural curls had been tamed with the help of hair grease into French braids, beaded braids (my favorite!), braided ponytails and even the occasional heat straightened style. All of which were time-consuming to create and yielded short-lived results.
The event taking place in my grandmother's kitchen was the solution to that lopsided equation of effort vs. results. Every woman in the room had already invested a generous amount of time into the upkeep of our hair; so it was only fitting that they were all there to ring in the new low-maintenance chapter of our hair story.
After our scalps were prepped and ready, the thick creamy relaxer was applied to our sectioned hair with a paintbrush shaped applicator. I remember the initial cool sensation as the cream came in contact with my scalp. Not bad...
Two minutes later, it was burning.
Around my hairline, through the parts and into the crown, it burned everywhere. My oldest aunt asked me where it hurt, and began dabbing the neutralizing shampoo on my head wherever I pointed. Supposedly that helps stop the burning. It doesn't. From the first application of cream to the hair, the entire relaxing process should take about 10 minutes or so. At minute 5, I was squirming in my seat, proverbial smoke coming from my ears.
If you want to know what it feels like, light a match and put your hand over it. Now take the flame and set your hair on fire. It's like that, only wet.
My sister, with her annoyingly high threshold for pain, sat across from me, relaxer all over her head, stoic. I think I lasted two more minutes before my agony prompted my caretakers to rinse the cream from my hair. After shampooing three times to ensure all traces of the relaxer were removed and conditioning to protect my strands from breakage, I was invited to touch my newly straightened hair, which would no longer curl after coming in contact with water or sweat.
I reached up and felt the wet silky mass atop my head. And just like that, I forgot the pain. I was hooked.
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