Personal Narrative: My Plaited Plats

I was born July 18,1999 at 10:00 o'clock on the dot. My features as pure, naked as my maker my texture so soft, curly and natural as my ancestors before me: and this is where my story begins. Through my toddler years I wore plaited plats that had beads at the end in which I was in love with. I would whip my hair as a lion ferociously grooms its mane with I knew that this defined who I was, a little girl with power who had control over her life and didn't care about others opinion. But this took a turn for the worst in the 5th grade. My plaited braids weren't enough, there were so many new trends that came out in 2009, that my mind was lost in a whirlwind. My hero Beyoncé was telling me to pat my weave but I couldn't pat my plaited hair, maybe scratch my scalp but not pat. This was a note that I took down mentally, if
I looked around my classroom and mentally panicked. I would see Chamara- WEAVE. Shania. -WEAVE Faith- PERM. Shayna- Perm. Sarah. OMBRE STRAIGHT and I looked in the mirror and then there was Emanie-. PERM. I was an African princess with a crown of plaits and beads and now I was a shadow. I carried a veil over my eyes in which blinded me from the truth of how bad a perm was. I sat in the salon chair in which the hairstylist took out the creamy formula and placed it onto my beautiful natural hair, as she rubbed the comb with the formula on it, my scalp tingled a little bit as the hairstylist proceeded to tell me that this was the process and that beauty takes pain. After her words hit my ears, my head was in flames the tingling became unbearable. I knew from that day forward, that my texture was gone, my power was gone and so was the inner queen that I had inside