For as long as I can remember, I have been fascinated by dreadlocked hair. I'd go to Jamaica around Christmas-time each year, and often during the summers as well, and I'd see men of all shapes and sizes proudly letting their hair grow as God intended. It was awesome to see people take such pride in their hair where I had always seen mine as a burden.

I'm a black woman. My mother's family is Jamaican, and my father's family is Native American (seminole in particular) and African-American. And my hair, is just natty.. lol.. I grew up hearing that my hair had a nice texture because it was thick, yet manageable. I could always use a Light or Regular perm, no super perms for me, no sir. But I hated perms. And I hated my hair. And it seems to me that all I ever wanted to have was "wash and wear" hair that I wouldn't have to bother with.

As much as I hated perms, I will admit that I loved the look of my hair after a fresh perm. My hair would be soft and bouncy, and would just flow so wonderfully that I felt so proud of my hair for the entire two weeks that it would actually behave like this. But then, I hated having to wrap my hair every night. I, being a devoted athlete, also hated having to worry about my hair every time I would sweat. I hated being afraid of getting my hair wet every time it would rain. Or afraid that if there was too much humidity, my hair would go back to its kink, and lose my lovely flowing locs. I hated washing my hair after a perm and feeling the gradual, yet distinctly noticeable, change back to its regular texture. I no longer felt attractive or proud of my locs. And I hated not being able to run my hands through my hair every time I got frustrated with something or nervous, because I was too afraid of messing my hair up.

Until i decided to change my hair, I didn't realize how much my hair had really taken over my life.

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My grandmother lived by the creed "your hair is your beauty" and if your hair isn't gorgeous long and flowing, you are no longer beautiful. But then again, she's also the woman who hated it anytime i was in the sun too long, because I would get dark. She even disliked my boyfriend initially because he was too dark and not anglo enough. But that's neither here nor there; i'm straying from the point of this section.

My grandmother instilled in me a sense of my hair being the most important part about me. It's what people will notice first. To her, you could be ugly as sin, but if you had gorgeous straight long hair, that more than made up for it. I'd like to call this a classic old school Jamaican mentality. But I do believe that that would be unfair based on my limited anecdotal evidence. So I don't know where she gets that mentality from. But something I heard today reminded me that maybe it's a black culture thing.

Today, I was walking around the city, when I heard a woman standing next to me call out to her friend across the street.. Then she looked to me and said "can you believe that she just cut all her hair off and went bald? she used to have hair all the way down to her butt." And I merely smiled and murmured what i hope were appropriate comments. But frankly, I don't even remember what I said. I do remember however that I was looking at her wondering why, if her hair was so long and beautiful, would she cut it all off? And then, I had to pause and wonder at my thoughts. Have I become my grandmother? Have I become one of those people that absolutely annoy me, tying hair into self-worth?

And I tried to reassure myself because after all, I did the same thing. I had long straight hair which I eventually got sick of, because frankly, I couldn't take care of it anymore, and I cut my hair into a short bob ending just below my jaw. Then a year later, I cut my hair to just above my ears and I kept the hair at the back of my head very low, but not shaved. But I found that I encountered the same problems as before. I hate managing processed hair. And I found that I only liked my hair for two weeks at a time, and then I'd spend the remaining six weeks absolutely hating certain aspects of myself.

Doesn't sound too healthy does it?

Finally, when I got into college and away from home, I shaved my hair low enough to make the military proud. And I LOVED IT!! I'd wake up in the morning, rub my hand across my scalp, smile and go about my day. I could wash my hair as often as I wanted. I could dye my hair any colour I wanted and if I didn't like it, I could just shave my hair off again. It was absolutely liberating and I felt so free. But then I began to miss certain other things; such as the role that hair played in my sex life.

Having long hair meant that I could throw my hair around during sex and just go and look absolutely wild. My hair could run down my partner's body trailing after each of my kisses. It could tickle when appropriate, tease, strategically hide my delights, and to put it bluntly, it made me feel so freakin sexy!! Shaving my hair helped me realize that I've got pretty nice bone structure. My dome looks pretty cool low-cut, and my eyes are even more expressive. But now, I felt like I too closely resembled a boy, even though i'm sure no one would make the mistake of seeing me that way.

Texture and opposites are very important to me, in terms of a partner. For example, my skin is smooth and hairless (thanks to my relentless devotion to my razor and waxing parlors). My boyfriend's skin is hairy and much less smooth.. My face is smooth, where his is bearded. My nails are long enough to tear flesh, whereas his are painfully short. My boyfriend is tall, and I'm several inches shorter. I'm talkative, yet I opt for silence, whereas he's the quite type who tries to act as though he is talkative. We think completely differently, yet we work.

Then came the hair. My hair had been long and smooth, whereas his hair had been cut very short and his hair was rough and kinky. It worked for us then because we were opposites. But then, once I cut my hair, it just didn't feel the same. And my perceptions of myself changed as well. Some for the better, and some for the worse.

I spent four years of college trying to find some kind of middle ground. I regrew my hair by the start of my Junior year to just below shoulder length, and it was great for a few months. But I found that i didn't have the time or the inclination to grow it further. So I shaved it off again and enjoyed a carefree summer. Then I found the ideal middle ground. I grew a poofy afro and dyed it a burnt sienna.. it felt great and i began to notice something interesting: my hair was locking on its own, and i was actually getting complimented on it.

I won't say that the compliments were the most important part, but it was finally great to hear people complimenting me on a decision i made regarding my hair instead of the insults and pleading I would hear from some members of my family.

Out of respect for my family, during my senior year, I went home to discuss the possibility of locking my hair. It didn't go to well. My mother was supportive of any decision I would make regarding my hair because she'd seen me struggle with it and she knew that i wasn't going to enter into any decision regarding my hair lightly. My grandmother however gave me this ultimatum

"if you love me, you will not put that nastiness in your hair"

uh huh... you read that correctly. I couldn't believe it either when she told me that. but she was very serious.. and she still tells me that now... but I don' t believe that this is a matter of love. Nor do i believe that one should ever make that kind of request of someone for something that frankly doesn't concern you and can't harm you or anyone else, that person included.

Anywho, i'm sure that you have long since become thoroughly disinterested in this exceedingly long monologue, but maybe simple curiousity has kept you reading.

It is not my intention to bore you, or to make this a journal of my life. But when I began my journey to get my hair locked, I consulted several sites across the web to help me make my decision and found that I got so much conflicting advice because these sites were geared towards particular races and hair types, or some people were misinformed. Whatever the reason, I had such a difficult time that I made some poor decisions.

This blog is here to chronicle my journey of locking my hair, and to also provide valuable advice for individuals with african-american hair types. I have to put my personal story in so that you can have some background and maybe a bit more understanding of some of the issues one will face when one decides to make such a drastic change.

Because I would like this to be an informative site, I would love it if anyone remotely knowledgeable on teh subject matter could post links to articles or anything dreadlock related that could potentially help.

Regardless of whether anyone even sees this, I will continue to post dreadlock related informative entries because this is important to me. Stick with me for a bit, and I hope you'll learn something. Maybe even become a bit more informed and open-minded. Or maybe you'll love your own hair more than you already do. Or maybe you'll want to become Natty yourself.

I call myself KnottyBongoDread because I'm a NattyBongoHead. I'll explain that later.

Until then, Peace and Love, Mes Amies.

Hennessy <3