African Braids and Nearly Going Bald in Phoenix, AZ

When one is exposed to different things for the first time and when curiosity urges to give them a go, you tend to not think of the side effects. As you would know by now, this is usually my case. I like taking chances in life and living on the edge, and in this particular case, almost shave my head off like so many celebrities do willingly but get paid to do it while I paid for it.

While living in the US about ten years ago, I saw many Jamaicans with dreadlocks and braids at my work place. I thought to myself that I should try the look for a few months since my job back then allowed any look. “If I don’t do it now, when will I?” I thought to myself. I was pretty confident with my decision, except that I will never in my life do it again after the following experience.

On one sunny day, I approached a Jamaican lady and asked her if she could braid my hair. Since I was very popular and almost every employee knew me for being a joker, she thought I was trying to be funny. It took me a few hours to convince her that I was in fact serious. She was a bit hesitant at the beginning saying that it would be hard with my hair because it is too soft and too long, but I got her convinced. She gave me a lot of instructions on what hair extension to buy, the colors to pick and sprays to maintain it, and only God knows how much of hard work it was in fact. I didn’t get discouraged and I proceeded with accomplishing one of my dreams. However, it came as a shock for me that I was told to buy extensions. I always thought the hair they had is real but turns out it is an illusion! It may not be the case for everyone of course.

Anyway, for the next three days, I was stuck to the chair for eight hours to have my entire hair done. Not only was it extremely hard to sit for so long, but the poor lady was eight months pregnant. In the back of my head, I was worried that she might deliver any moment and unfortunately I did not have any midwifery experience to help her.
I went straight into the Jamaican nest for it and I was the only vanilla face there to get them done. To be very frank with you, no vanilla face was as “brave” as I was. This was because they were either afraid or the culture shock was too much to handle. The part of the world that I come from, you couldn’t find Africans or Caribbean ten years ago.

After my super stylish hair was done, I was admired by everyone and every person asked who did it for me. I think doing my hair turned out to be very profitable for the lady because plenty of people went to her later. I didn’t want to remove my hair extensions after that. I was so happy with the attention I got from people and all the compliments I received that it didn’t even matter how difficult it was to maintain it. My head had to get used to the weight because believe it or not, you have an extra kilogram hanging down your head. You need to cover your head at night so it doesn’t become fuzzy and let’s not forget about the olive spray that you need to spray for maintenance.

After long three months, I decided, with a heavy heart, to remove my braids so I could give my hair and head some rest since it was growing at the roots. I took the “smartest” decision to remove it on my own. Oh boy! It was a big mistake! More like Burj Khalifa of mistakes! I asked people around me to help out but nobody really wanted to do it, so I started to remove the extension slowly on my own and I sat for almost two days to remove it.  My boyfriend back then decided to pay me an unplanned visit that day. I looked terrible with half of the head in curls and the other half in tiny pony tails. However, he was happy to help me in removing the braids, and in less than half an hour they were all out.

To be frank I was impressed by his skills. I didn’t expect that from a guy. His dexterity and speed was fantastic. After all the hard work, he had to leave, but not until he clicked a few pictures of me so I have the memory of the moment.

I was dying to take shower and clean my hair. The moment I entered the shower, I felt like a weight was lifted off my head. I stayed under the hot water for five long minutes until I decided to actually wash my hair. I just wanted to enjoy that pleasant feeling of the hot water running though my hair since I hadn’t felt like that in three months. I took the shampoo and I started to wash my hair. The moment I start washing my hair, it was the moment I thought my entire world had fallen apart. The hair had two knots. Not small knots, no, no, no. My hair divided in two big knots that I couldn’t run my fingers through anymore. I looked down and the entire shower was covered in hair and more hair was running down my body. I thought I was losing my mind. I thought I had I lost all my hair, but after touching my head some more, I calmed myself down that it is still there.

I could feel it while touching but what about the knots!? I desperately squeezed the entire bottle of conditioner on my hair and I began massaging gently so it untangles, but no chance. With a hysterical cry in confusion, I called my boyfriend, but he didn’t pick up the phone. He was at work in a business meeting. I left him a desperate voice message that would have given him the impression that I was dying. 

As soon as he heard message, he didn’t really understand anything, so he called me to check if I was alive. He was at my door in no time and when he saw the matter, he smilingly told me it will be fine.

We went to three different salons and they all wanted to cut my hair short. None wanted to bother to comb and untangle my hair. I was crying repeatedly. I wasn’t mentally prepared for this. He said, “Honey, don’t cry! I will stay with you and comb your hair just stop crying please.”

After his sweet words, I kind of got back to my senses even though I was sighing every other second. We went to a specialized shop for hair products and bought specific combs to unknot the hair and we took it from there.

For two days, he stayed just to comb my hair. It was painful, stressful and comforting at the same time because he was around.  We would spend hours talking while he tried saving my hair. Some we could save, some we couldn’t. The most important thing was that all the top layers of the hair was saved, but the ones underneath had to be chopped off. After the hair was unknotted, he took me to a lovely salon so I could have a professional haircut to cover up the damage. Sigh! Half of my hair’s length was gone, but seeing the bright side, I had him save my hair and at least I didn’t look like I was enrolling in military.

I never knew how important my hair was to me until that day. Having braids was amazing and memorable, but I will never forget the result of it. If you are thinking to do anything like this to your hair, make sure you don’t experiment on it by yourself at any point. Get professional help instead from the beginning unless you want to test your partner’s hair untangling skills!