BRAIDS ARE MY BREAKTHROUGH ACONVERSATIONWITHMYHAIR
BRAIDS ARE MY BREAKTHROUGH
ACONVERSATIONWITHMYHAIR
Braids are personal. Historical. Cultural. Protective. and a Warrior Crown. At 41 years old, I have only had this roped perfection three times in my life. Having an Afro was a beauty I appreciated much
later in life. I was teased and bullied for my boisterous curls and spent most of my younger years pulling my hair back into a ponytail. If my strands weren’t constrained in a rubber band, then they were straightened by a pressing comb, my mother sure to “make me look like something” on holidays and school picture days. My oldest Goddaughter, Bianca, asked me once, “Nenen, why was your hair straight in all of your school pictures when you have an Afro?” Her curious, innocent question almost had me in tears. It was a great question, and one that I couldn’t answer. “You’ll have to ask Grandbee, I’m not sure why.” To have a question about a crown that sits upon my head that I couldn’t answer plagued me. My parents also wanted me to look my best, and I was left wondering why my Afro wasn’t best. When I went to college, I had my first breakthrough. I wore my hair as is. Blowouts occasionally, however I relished in my curls. I got so used to looking one way, a way that was rejected and I had to learn to accept it, that I was hesitant to look any other way. Changing my hair felt disingenuous and it was a struggle to accept myself being whoever I felt like being when it came to my crown. Well, three times is a charm... I wanted braids, I got them, and in this volume of THE NINETEENTH, I’m sharing that breakthrough.
b e t w e e n my bra i ds, eons o
ymeesI hteer l kco s i n
s
Her beauty was wrapped and roped in woven
Thesesboots were made, For stuntin’ withbraids.
HIGH STEPPIN’
She is shadow
Dearly departed, A map of where we ’ ve been, Where we ’ ve gone, Where we started, Everything I am is in memory of you. LIFE/DEATH
IN THE WIND
Swing away, Let the wind sing her sweet song on your scalp, Sirens wade in the water, A gift from a mother to her daughter, braided lineage, FREE.
ROTATING CROWN
Braids one day, Fro the next, Twists on the weekend, Blowout, Three locks on my chest, One for me, One for love, One for everyone that ever was.
One,plant,twoqueens, three necklaces, formydreams.
In this season of A BLACK SPACE’s journey, we are hyper focused on utilizing our mission, being a luminous example of how to liberate Black folks through culture bearing, oral tradition, and ancestral craft. As the ED and Found(HER) of this organization, and an artist myself, it is my personal mission to use my craft to see the work of A BLACK SPACE through. Please consider donating, by clicking or scanning the QR code below, to support our newsletter, programs, and emerging community outreach to lend our support where needed. Also, if you ’ re looking to expand your art collection, consider buying some of my fine art prints HERE. Available at M2 Gallery, located in Little Rock, Arkansas. Want more odes to Black Hair? Get your copy of my children’s book, FROM COTTON TO SILK: THE MAGIC OF BLACK HAIR (Et Alia Press, 2021) to add to your library. All of the original work was handstitched, nearly 500 hours, and it blend cloth, culture, and the super powers of the kinky, curly coif!
Photo credits: Quincy Watson Poems + Layout: CC Mercer Watson
