CURLFEST: A Safe Space

This was my first time attending the highly-praised CURLFEST, and I needed my hair to be especially perfect.

For the annual festival that celebrates natural hair, I figured it would be best to wear my own hair out. I was hesitant at this decision. Protective styling have always done more than protect my natural coils; it protected my livelihood. My confidence, my sanity, my time. I wouldn’t truly feel comfortable with my head until after I would finally place the comb down, resting my hands after several hours of smoothing parts and installing box braids.

There have been times when I’ve gone out into the world with the heavy weight of a “bad” hair day on my shoulders. The heartbreak of a failed twist-out really does something to your spirit. That certain disappointment creates anxiety that causes you to lower your head in certain spaces, hoping to not stand out any more than you already do. When it did come time to wearing my natural hair out, I was careful. Like a surgeon performing an operation, I steadied my hands delicately. I scooped out appropriate portions of product. I wore headwraps and secured it tightly, wishing in the morning that there wouldn’t be a line of desperation on my forehead. 

So I planned a style: two curly puffs with a set of bangs. Simple enough. I thought of all the pictures I admired from the previous CURLFEST; wouldn’t it be dope if I could make my hair look that magical and photo-worthy too? I got my essentials together and I prepped for the occasion. The morning of CURLFEST came...and it didn’t come out how I wanted.

Perhaps it was a little silly of me to not have a plan B, but what else could I do? As usual, I was betting on my hair. Betting on myself. I took a deep breath, smiled along during the pregame brunch, and tried to act excited as my curlfriends and I finally arrived to Randall’s Island.

The air was scented with sweet leave-in conditioners, healthy drips of magical oils, and dewey aloe vera-infused water sprays. It was the smell of our deep roots that have been nourished. It was the smell of them finally coming up to breathe, free to flourish after centuries of growing pains. It was the smell of them being given space to blossom. It was a familiar scent, and it reminded me of the hours I spent in my bathroom or sitting in front of my mother, indulging in the products that were being lathered lovingly onto my hair. 

I began to not feel so paranoid about my puffs. Not entirely great, but not as self-conscious.

I stood amongst the crowds of curls, the groups of kinks, and the lines of locs and braids. I had expectations of seeing beautifully-crafted and elaborate hair creations, and I wasn’t let down. It was nice to appreciate all the looks and expressions that were being shown off. 

I also saw hairstyles that, again, brought a sense a familiarity to me. Trials and tribulations and daring transitions. Tricky mishaps and frazzle comb-overs and updo’s. Hair sticking in directions that could have only happened by wild chance. These were hairstyles that I had once felt so insecure about. These were hairstyles that I had dreaded having to accept for myself.

And here they were. They had all been welcomed here with open arms. They are celebrated. They are adored. They are loved. They are gorgeous. I appreciated these looks as well.

I felt compelled to appreciate my own puffs. They’ve been through a lot, and they’re here; they deserve more admiration from the young woman rocking them. 

CURLFEST has recognized those late-night hours coated in curling cream and coconut oil and flax-seed gel, twisting and trusting your hair with high hopes of a beautiful let-down. They understand that sometimes it truly is a let-down, and that disappointment stings. They see the work, and effort, and passion you put into your crown in a world that has always tried to unfairly take it down. They have highlighted your dedication to your own hair, and cherish that practice, regardless of how it actually looks. When you are honoring your culture, it can never be a bad hair day.

I am thankful for CURLFEST for providing a safe space where not a single strand is out place.