Picture Day

Updated: Feb 4, 2019




Every year

It was a tradition

To aggressively

Press my curls

With 450 degrees

To make it straight.

I begged and plead

“It’s going to make

You look beautiful.”

I cried every time

As I held my ears down

And allowed my sideburns and

Forehead to be burned.

Why did society

Believe altering natural attributes

Was a good thing?

“Don’t you want to be beautiful?”

What if,

I already felt beautiful?

What if,

I was comfortable with every

twist and turn?

But this wasn’t the case.

I didn’t love my curls.

I would hide them in buns

Before my mother

Could say, “your hair is a mess.”

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