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My son and I call each other the truth. We started calling ourselves the truth jokingly one day because of the texture of our hair.

My hair is unapologetically nappy, coiled so tight that it couldn’t be anything else but the truth. The truth of my hair is basically the truth of who I am.

My hair proclaims to the world that I am of African descent, I am strong, resilient, and soft. I grew up in a time when Black women were beginning to live in the truth that their hair testified of. Prior to the civil rights era Black women straighten their hair, worn wigs, and relaxed their hair in order to fit into a society that said our truth was ugly. As we evolved in the 1960s, and were told that Black is beautiful, we began to wear our hair in cornrows, afros, braids, and twists. Our hair through all the evolutions of ourselves always stood in its truth. If you straighten it within days, it began to curl back to its natural state. If you relaxed it the edges would not go alone with the lie and would roll back up to show the world who it was. Our hair has always been the truth and we can learn a lot from it by walking in the truth of who we are.

The truth is black hair is unique and it is beautiful. It can be worn in a myriad of styles. It evokes our strength as depicted in cornrows. It exudes femininity with wisp of baby hair surrounding the face. Our hair is loud and bold, but it can be subtle. Our hair shows us how we can be a mixture of strength and softness.

We Black women are delicately complex and no matter what obstacles we face, we must walk in our truth and celebrate the tight coils, black skin, thick lips, and the widest of our bodies. We are the truth, and the truth will set you free.

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Like our hair, we are strong, resilient and beautiful.

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