Of dreads, and fear
It is not possible to recall the many times I've changed my hair. How often without a thought I've slung various chemical concoctions onto my hair, with results every color on the spectrum.
So why is the choice to start growing dreadlocks so hard, so filled with emotion and with so many internal questions? Fear even? Is it theresidual ignorant fear that once you dread to go back you must shave your head? (I know this not to be true)
I've spent the majority of my adult life struggling with society's version of "beauty". I've always been chubby. I've never been interested in hair, makeup and fashion. I've spent so much time letting the world convince me that I'm not beautiful, no matter how perfectly coiffed my hair, no matter the thickness of the layers of makeup.
About 6 years ago, I started losing weight. 100lbs... gone! I discovered belly dance. I found that men were finally discovering... me. I was finally discovering MYSELF... hidden beneath years of shame, years of asocietal SCREAM that said: "YOU ARE NOT BEAUTIFUL... THEREFORE YOU ARE NOT WORTHY!"
Now there is this tiny voice inside of me that says: "Why are you doing this to yourself? They will judge you again, if not by your weight than by the style of your hair. They will think [insert random stereotype of someone with dreadlocks] of you."
I look in the mirror, and *I* really like the changes I'm already seeing. This is what should matter most to my heart.
I release my fear into the wilderness to roam... far, far away from me.