How I Learned to Love My Curls and Turned My Hair Story into a Force for Change

Being mixed race on both sides of my parentage but light-skinned and adopted, I am further removed from my genetic make-up and, consequently, my cultural identity. My hair is the real indicator that I am mixed and for me, it is wonderful as I am proud of where I have come from.

As an adopted child I was the only one with curly hair in the family and was one of very few growing up. My hair was a fascination to others, something I could never quite understand. I experienced a lot of name-calling and would regularly have strangers reaching out and touching my hair as standard. Sometimes they would refer to the curls they pulled, sometimes they would make noises, and other times if I were lucky, would pay me a compliment, but I grew up thinking that my hair was fair game, that it was the right of others to reach out and touch—and they certainly never asked permission.

I have since learnt to appreciate and love my hair—which also means it is not the possession of others and their curiosity. I may allow the curious to touch it—but it is not guaranteed and certainly not their right.

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