Gesilayefa Azorbo
The Intimacy Of: Change
This is a portrait of myself getting ready to transition from my everyday afro to a protective braided style, which I taught myself to do largely through YouTube tutorials over the years (the hair extensions I use are hanging behind me, forming a colourful backdrop).
For many Black women, hair plays an important role in our identity, in all the myriad ways we wear it. My personal hair journey, especially as someone whose natural hair is the tightest coil texture labelled 4C, has been long, and in some ways traumatic.
My hair has been shaved off entirely three times in my life - the first two times against my will, but the third time by my own hand, in full control.
The first time was when I was five years old, likely a case of lice, but coinciding with the year my family packed up and moved across the continent from Nigeria to Kenya.
The second time my head was shaved was when I was 12 years old, happening the year we moved back to Nigeria as a sort of grim bookend. Amidst the culture shock and familial reconnection, I was taken from having my hair braided for school to a barbershop to shave it all off, because the adults realized belatedly that the dress code for my new boarding school demanded it.
The third time my hair was shaved, I was 25 years old, and I did it myself, in full control of my choice this time. I had grown it out and had been perming it for several years by then, but one morning I woke up, looked at the tight curls of new growth in the mirror contrasting against the straightened ends, and with very little thought, took a pair of scissors and cut it all off.
This time, it was both my choice and a deeper embrace of my original hair texture fueled by a new wave of YouTube hair channels specific to my hair type, which gave me the confidence that I could actually work with what grew naturally from my scalp, unmediated.
Ten years in, wash days and braiding days while they may be long, remind me that I am choosing myself, over and over again, and that brings me the greatest joy.
The Intimacy Of: Change
This is a portrait of myself getting ready to transition from my everyday afro to a protective braided style, which I taught myself to do largely through YouTube tutorials over the years (the hair extensions I use are hanging behind me, forming a colourful backdrop).
For many Black women, hair plays an important role in our identity, in all the myriad ways we wear it. My personal hair journey, especially as someone whose natural hair is the tightest coil texture labelled 4C, has been long, and in some ways traumatic.
My hair has been shaved off entirely three times in my life - the first two times against my will, but the third time by my own hand, in full control.
The first time was when I was five years old, likely a case of lice, but coinciding with the year my family packed up and moved across the continent from Nigeria to Kenya.
The second time my head was shaved was when I was 12 years old, happening the year we moved back to Nigeria as a sort of grim bookend. Amidst the culture shock and familial reconnection, I was taken from having my hair braided for school to a barbershop to shave it all off, because the adults realized belatedly that the dress code for my new boarding school demanded it.
The third time my hair was shaved, I was 25 years old, and I did it myself, in full control of my choice this time. I had grown it out and had been perming it for several years by then, but one morning I woke up, looked at the tight curls of new growth in the mirror contrasting against the straightened ends, and with very little thought, took a pair of scissors and cut it all off.
This time, it was both my choice and a deeper embrace of my original hair texture fueled by a new wave of YouTube hair channels specific to my hair type, which gave me the confidence that I could actually work with what grew naturally from my scalp, unmediated.
Ten years in, wash days and braiding days while they may be long, remind me that I am choosing myself, over and over again, and that brings me the greatest joy.