Why the Natural Hair Movement Has Been a Gift & a Curse to Black Women


By Arah Iloabugichukwu

I made it all the way from the Just For Me craze to the infamous wrap era without so much as a curling iron touching my head. Well, there was this one time for picture day in 5th grade that my mom decided to bless me with some Shirley temple curls. She made it about half through my mid-back kinks before throwing in the towel, tossing the entire middle section into a Bantu knot and sending me on my way. That 5th grade struggle photo, complete with Pebbles’ top knot, will forever encapsulate the relationship I have with my hair. Me in a constant state of “Really, Girl??” and my hair offering a boisterous “Really……period!” in return.

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