Okay, just a few more. These six just seemed to have begged to be put on a list. I’m sure I have missed some signs of pride, but these I couldn’t let go:
1. You expect people to cater to you.
2. You gloat about you.
3. You don’t forgive.
4. You must be #1 all the time.
5. You have to have the last word.
6. You stand by your word, even when you know you’re wrong.
If any of the following describes you, you might be dealing with pride:
In 1992, I made the huge step to wear my hair in its God-given state. For years I had said I would lock my hair when I turned 60. I chose 60 because I figured I would be established in my career and would have great influence with those around me so no one would have the power to force me to change my hair. Well, I didn’t wait until 60. In 1992, I decided no more relaxers for me and cut my straightened hair until my natural coils formed a nicely cropped fade. It was cool, but I longed for the locks I saw the confident women in my African dance class and a black women’s academic conference at MIT wear. The way they moved and expressed ideas had to have something to do with the hair, I reasoned. It was as if the assurance of their bodies and minds had positioned itself on the top of their heads, and I wanted that type of assurance.
In May 1994, I got my hair twisted to begin the process of dreadlocks and my confidence followed, not confidence accepting the hair that God gave me, but confidence in my locks being “the best” or “the neatest I’ve ever seen,” as people constantly told me. I would smile and give a proper thank you, but inside I would be gloating, talking to myself, saying, “I know. I hear that all the time” or “My hair is beautiful, isn’t it?” To my knowledge, no one knew this ugliness was in my heart. No one even suspected it was there, except for God, of course. And in July 2001, He told me I had to cut away the ugliness, symbolized by cutting off my locks.
My initial objection to His request made me realize how deep my ugliness ran and let me know that I had to be obedient. “No, I’m going to be on HGTV so I can’t cut my hair,” I said aloud, and I heard the vanity of wanting to have fabulous hair when featured on my favorite network at that time. In an instant moment of spiritual sanity, I got the scissors, went to the mirror and cut my locks along with a stream of tears. My momentary sadness had turned to joy, knowing that I was pleasing God and on my way to healing from hair pride. I knew my journey was about complete when I felt led to lock my hair again in 2003, after two years of obedience to no professional haircuts. Since I was four, there was never a time when I didn’t have regular salon appointments. In those two years I learned that the salon contributed to my hair pride, and I needed to get healthy in heart before allowing a professional to style my hair. There’s so much more to this hair journey. Even now the story is still being written. I’m finished for now but still would love to hear your stories.
Copyright 2009 by Rhonda J. Smith
My hair once looked like these:
Cropped with china bangs
Faded with auburn color
Baby dreads with color on tips
Faded Hair Gumby-style
The Afro
So from a young age I have wanted to wear my hair the way I wanted to wear my hair, and natural was at the top of the list. The pressing comb traumatized me, and I have always thought there was nothing wrong with kinky hair, even when my 5th grade boy nemesis said my hair was hard, and in 7th grade my arch girl rival (who I thought was my friend, BTW) compared her long flowing hair to my cropped mushroom by asking “How long is your hair?” as she stretched a few locks of mine while tousling hers. These incidents set the foundation for me eventually having pride in my hair. I was determined to do what I wanted to do and never let a mama, a Ronald or a Lauren make me feel bad for how I decided to wear my hair. I, like many of us women with hair woes, obsessed over my look, would pout when I didn’t like it and would try a new look just to stand out from my last style and among other women. God challenged me about this hair pride when I began wearing my hair locked 17 years ago. I’ll tell you about that the next time. In the meantime, does my story sound familiar? What are your hair war stories? I invite you to comment and look forward to the dialogue.
Copyright 2009 by Rhonda J. Smith
Last week author Marilynn Griffith visited my blog and talked about motherhood pride. If we’ve ever had those moments when we thought our children were simply stellar, there may have been a time when you couldn’t always say that or there may come a time when you simply breakdown because it seems all your efforts are futile. Marilynn reminded us that even when you train your child “right,” you may be in for a few surprises from them. I wrote the following poem this week for my church’s women’s month to help us remember our God-given role as mothers. The night’s focus was “I Am a Mother,” and as mothers we should always keep in mind what Marilynn said: “(Children) are a gift from God given for your care (and feeding!) until God releases them into their destiny, which is the same as ours–to change the world for Christ.”
Carrier of Life
Copyright 2009 by Rhonda J. Smith