I've got 'good' hair

Introducing: Sheree Mack, who is studying for a PhD in Creative Writing at Newcastle University, after having completed an MA in Creative Writing at Northumbria University in 2003. She is an active freelance writer within the UK.

I’ve got ‘good’ hair

"You’ve got good hair!" A constant chorus fed to me by my family as I was growing up. With this exclamation would come the customary feel of my hair, just to make sure. My hair was ‘good’ because it was thick but also straight not so ‘kinky’. I was told I had the best hair in the family and should feel lucky. I really didn’t feel lucky. I always had to wear my hair in plaits or bunches, with ribbons and bobbles. I could never wear my hair out and down. Why? Because, it could never withstand the elements; rain or wind, my hair would become a tangled knotty shrunk mess.

I thought I could change this with a perm. My mum let me. I went to the hairdressers at the local shops in Newcastle, meaning I was the first black head she got her hands on. She said she’d have to straighten my hair first and then perm it, because it was so strong. This was my first time in a real hairdressers and I think the experience went to my head literally, because when she asked me if I wanted it cut, I just said yes go for it. I wanted the glamour; I wanted that long straight hair that I could only achieve when I had a large towel on my head with the folds cascading down my back.

The hairdresser straightened, permed and layered my hair. That was over twenty years ago and my hair hasn’t been the same since. Something must have gone wrong in the process because it looked ‘good’ when it was wet. This was my ‘wet look’ phrase. My hair was constantly wet; dripping wet, and gelled up to the nines. I got a fringe from that trip to the hairdressers, a fringe I treated like gold dust. I pulled and curled it with curling tongs. I had to be more careful though, after I burnt my forehead. My god that hurt! I’ve still got the scar.

I hated washing my hair, as afterwards I’d spend the whole week pulling and brushing my hair until it came out, stretched out of its tight curls into loose curls. By the time it was back to a decent length it would be time to wash it all again. There’s something wrong when you feel that your hair is ‘good’ when it’s dirty.

Then when I became a mother, entering a new phase in my life, I had all my ‘good’ hair chopped off. I became peanut head, as my husband named me. It was basically a skin head with my fringe still, which showed me that I had a small head and a beautiful profile. I enjoyed this phrase of my life as I could just wash and go. I enjoyed the freedom even though while teaching I got called ‘Sonique’ by the school kids.

Then there was the time that I got locks extensions put in, but that’s a whole other story. Now, my hair is locked naturally. I didn’t go to the hairdressers - not after my earlier experiences. Most days I wear my hair out and down. And it’s glorious because it stays put against the rain and the wind. I run my fingers through it and it feels good. That’s ‘good’ hair.