Posted in Natural Hair

Trader Joe’s Tea Tree Tingle Shampoo

So, the other day, I ran out of my staple cleanser, my lovely and trustworthy Terressentials Hair Wash. Since the only supplier that I could drive to, Community Pharmacy in Madison, was closed, I had to find something else.

I originally wanted to buy the Jamaican Black Castor Oil Shampoo from Shea Moisture, but my local Target didn’t have it. So, I drove all the way to Trader Joe’s since I’ve heard so many great reviews. So I picked it up with no reservations!

So I went home, sectioned my hair, applied my hot oil treatment, and started shampooing away.

And this is where everything went wrong…

When shampooing my hair, I tend to go for the scalp, scrub and bring the suds down the rest of my hair, then I re-twist it, go back to the other sections, and then wash the product out.

When I went to do this, I heard my hair squeak. 

rsqueak

Now in any other case, this would be good. Squeaky clean teeth, squeaky clean floors, squeaky clean windows, etc. This was not one of those cases.

My hair was stripped and I was not happy. 

The fact that this happened despite the fact that I did a hot oil treatment not long beforehand just made me even more upset.

There was also the fact that there was now more hair in my drain than usual.

After this, I deep conditioned my hair with the Shea Moisture Raw Shea Butter Deep Treatment Masque. It felt a tad bit better, but it still felt like straw.

rice_straw_japan

So, I think I’m going to give this one a rest. I’ll probably give the rest of the bottle away to someone with oilier hair, and I’ll just stick with my staples. I mean, like they say, “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” 

Posted in Life, Natural Hair

A Thing of the Past

Have you ever had a moment where something just clicks in your mind? You’re just sitting there and BAM, it all just makes sense?

Well, for me, that moment came a couple days after speaking with my mother about my neighbor in Jamaica.

I remember that on Sundays, after my grandmother washed and detangled my hair, I would walk to my neighbor’s so that she could style my hair. I was not about to go to school with my granny plaits.

I remember that up until a certain point, said neighbor would “put my hair in one,” my child-talk for a pony tail, when I so requested.

That was during my infant school years.

However, at some point, she stared saying that she couldn’t do it. My hair was too thick, yadda yadda. So, instead, my hair would be styled in braids, twists, cornrows, you name it. I didn’t appreciate that.

Yes, as a child, I liked the simplicity of just throwing my hair into a ponytail and being done.

Over time, as I entered 2nd-5th grade, I started seeing a pattern. The girls with “pretty hair,” or the Indian/Asian kids, or the girls with perms, would have their hair “in one.” So naturally, I started thinking that it was because I didn’t have that “pretty hair.”

So, I resented my hair. I wanted a perm. I wanted to put my hair “in one.”

Fast forward like ten years, and guess what? I can put my hair “in one.” I still love ponytails, buns, pin-ups, everything of that sort. I’ve also grown to appreciate the styles that I’ve worn as a kid.

You want to know the most tragic part of this story? Well, during my conversation with my mother, I found out that my neighbor has had rheumatoid arthritis for many years.

Obviously, as a child I didn’t quite understand what this was. But, such a misunderstanding shaped my relationship with myself, my hair, and my self-esteem.

At that point, everything just made sense. The need for her to rest while doing my hair. Her complaints of pain. How long it took her to sit and stand. I feel horrible for not understanding her pain.

But I was just a child who didn’t understand. Has anyone else had such an experience?

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The puff and I (a year ago)