FCYU-Feature Story

Learning to Love My Hair
It took me years to get past getting teased

By Charlene

A few weeks after I was put in foster care, my foster mother told me I was going to get my hair cut. I was 7 years old, and I couldn’t remember ever getting my hair cut before. I had no image of what it would look like.

We went into a Spanish hair salon, and I saw lots of happy people coming out. I was sitting there saying to myself, “I hope I am going to be one of those happy people.” But when I saw people’s hair falling to the floor, my chin dropped. I was scared.

“Come on baby, you’re next,” they said. They turned me to where I could not see the mirror. I could hear the scissors slapping towards my hair and I saw so much hair falling out. I was worried, asking, “Why do you have to cut so much hair?”

My foster mother told me to sit and be quiet. The man said, “Trust me, it’s going to look nice.”

Unsure About My Look

When he finished, he turned my chair around and I looked in the mirror. I wanted to cry but I didn’t want my foster mother to yell at me. It was too short—it only came halfway down my forehead. I was not very pleased, knowing it was too late now to take back my OK.

The other people waiting to get their hair done told me it looked nice. But I wasn’t sure. I felt like a different person. The main thing on my mind was how all the people at school would react.

The next morning, I couldn’t wait to get to school to see what everyone would think. I did my best with my hair and got on the bus. But then I started to feel nervous. I worried that the kids at my school were not going to like it.

A Target

A lot of people noticed my haircut, and one teacher told me how nice my hair looked. Then it happened. There was this group who thought they were so cool. They always had something bad to say about others to put them down. They’d say things like, “Look at that fat girl,” or they’d make fun of someone for not having on some name brand clothes or sneakers.

As soon as they saw my new haircut they started laughing and saying mean things. I was so hurt. They really had a lot of jokes for me, laughing and pointing their fingers.

I thought it was going to stop there, but it didn’t. I hated having people judge me by my hair. They pointed at my head and called me bald, and even made a song about it at lunch.

The song went something like: “You’re a bald-headed chick-chick, you ain’t got no hair in the back, gel up, weave up, your hair is messed up.” It bothered me so much I would leave the lunchroom or my classroom and cry my heart out in the school bathroom.

Feeling Down on Myself

Eventually, my hair started to grow out, but that didn’t stop people from making fun of me. And whenever my foster mother decided I needed another haircut, I got one. I didn’t have a choice.

I used to hate to feel myself break down when people were being negative about my hairstyle. It made me feel so down on myself that I started to believe I was ugly, that no one cared and that the world was against me. I felt like a piece of bread that a whole lot of birds were trying to feed off of.

I knew that the kids at school were not going to stop joking on me, so I had to plan something for myself to stop feeling the way I did.

Trying to Deal

For a while, I would try to fight back. I would make fun of how the other kids looked, too, like how one of the guys had birthmarks all over his head that looked like ringworm. I also did things like throw spitballs, curse people out or just fight.

Doing things like that made me feel better, but then I would get sent to the time out room or get suspended for a few days. I was going to start failing my classes if I didn’t change my act.

One day I asked myself if I was really ugly like they said. My answer was no. I hadn’t been ugly when my hair was long, so why should I be ugly now?

I decided that I was not going to let the other kids provoke me into getting in trouble. I was going to choose the words that came out of my mouth wisely. I had to grow up and stop letting the things people said about me get to me.

Of course, that was easier said than done. It took me years to build up my confidence. But by the time I was around 16, I was ready to make some changes with my hair.

I knew I was getting more mature, so I wanted to try new looks. And I just wanted to feel cool for once.

I started dying my hair and tried all different colors: black, light brown and dark brown, hazelnut, or orange mixed with red. I also put things in my hair like braids, and even some human hair. I even wore my hair short with wet-and-go curls at one point.

Sometimes other people liked my hair, and sometimes they didn’t. But I was happy trying all those new hairstyles. And wearing my hair in ways that fit my body improved my self-esteem, even though I was still being bothered by other kids in school.

Staying Positive

If I had a card for every day I was laughed at, I’d have a full deck, but I decided I was just going to have to let them play out.

Sometimes I would still cry or I would tell them things like, “I’m still going to have a wonderful day,” holding a smile when I said it. Telling myself I looked good and not ugly kept me feeling positive about myself, even when people made remarks.

Another thing that helped me were these two staff from my RTC: Ms. Epps and Ms. Elliot. I looked up to them and thought of them as my stepmothers. They loved my hairstyles. They’d tell me my styles went with my features and made me look like an African princess. Listening to all the positive things they had to say made me feel better.

Comfortable With Myself

Now I’m 18, and when people bother me I try not to listen to them. I can feel that what’s important is not what anyone else likes about me but what I like about myself. I’ve put in a lot of effort to feel comfortable with how I look.

Now I hold my head high and make sure my hair is looking fine. When people make comments I’ll say something like, “God blessed me just like he will do for you, and have a blessed day.”

They may look at me like I’m crazy and say they do not believe in God, but I just walk away and do not pay them any mind. Responding to mean comments by saying good things, or nothing at all, makes me feel happy.

My Own Style

These days I still change up my hairstyle a lot. I like making my own choices about how I look.

I sometimes go to the extreme, like when I cut all my hair off last summer, even shorter than what my foster mother did when I was 7 years old. I didn’t really want to go bald, but my hair was falling out because of the chemicals and hair dyes I put in it.

But I worked my bald hair cut with confidence. I accessorized with a head scarf, and when people asked me why I cut my hair, I would just explain it to them and they understood.

I spent a long time beating myself up and not liking my hair just because someone else did not like it. It makes me feel good now to let everyone know that I am going to wear my hair however I want. Other people may like it or not, but I won’t change it for anyone but me.