Hair

my proud mane
still rooted in patriarchy
the ends splitting
into twos and threes
in locks and knots
in waves and curls
still and lifeless

Symbol of tradition
heritage and flair
a journey of self-care
always caught
in a snare
between honor and aesthetics
colour is a nightmare

To err
on the side of trends
blunt cuts and bobs
ombre and balayage
highlights and low lights
keratin and perm
would be taboo
for the 10 year old
that I was

Here I was
facing the mirror
i paused
hair to my jaws
feeling like an outlaw
yet awaiting the thaw
from the copper-coloured hair
that I wore

Long or short
dark or light
curly or straight
coarse or smooth
wherever it is on the spectrum
i love it all

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