My Mother's Hair

my mother's hair
does not curl in an
orthodox way
it does not follow a pattern of
consistent loops or ringlets down her back

much like my own, it zigs and zags
sporadically
and defiant pieces
strike
wildly at the air

its coarseness beckons hands to
understand it in a tactile way
wrapping the natural curve of
the locks around their finger
as my mother often does
before dragging a front
piece through her lips

my own hair has recently
recovered from the strain
i put it through
when i was younger
repressing the curls
like my grandmother did
her accent

sometimes my mother would do my braids
45 minutes on one side
play for a while
then another torturous sitting
then one time she flat ironed it for me
after i begged her
not knowing how else to defy
the other little girls that
called me nappy head
other than to make my hair
shiny and straight
like theirs
as my grandmother had once
tried to flatten her curves
with calorie counting
and diet sodas.

i have been down that road too
pretending that celery and
saltines were a normal
lunch.
trying to make my outside
appearance
fit in as much as i
desperately wanted to
i understand now why my
grandmother lost her accent
and my mother lost her language

i no longer try to smooth
down the unruly curls
as they grow
OUT
and not down
i have learned to embrace
its unwieldliness
as a part of my own
my mother told me
recently
that if i can be patient
long enough
the weight will eventually
pull the curls
down
my sister came into
the livingroom then
her straight hair
filled with gel
and crunched to create
the illusion of curls

i used to think it was
funny
how my sister tries to
create the illusion
of curls
that my grandmother
mother
and myself have all tried
so desperately
to repress

but i understand now
because when my granmother
lost her country and
my mother lost her language
i lost my culture
and that's just her way
of trying to get it
back