curl genocide.

A dabble of serum (clear goo).
A golf ball size squeeze of moose (fluffy goo).
A upside down fluff.
And off we go.

It seems simple enough, but my quick hair regimen took nearly 19 years to perfect. Nineteen years of combing (read: screaming in pain), no-more tangles spray, pony-tails and monster banana clips. For a girl raised by straight-haired parents, sometimes I think it’s a miracle I figured it out at all. I’ve had every haircut known to man in search of the perfect shape (yes, there was a mullet-like frock in the early 90s.) And still to this day I’m learning new things about my ever-evolving mane.

For years I tortured myself with flat irons and straightening goo, trying to get my hair to look like my parents – like everybody else’s. I hated my frizz and my dirty blonde color. I hated how any bit of rain or humidity would squelch any chance at a good hair day. I hated how my hair had to be difficult. I just wanted normal straight hair that I could comb, blow dry and style without an hour of effort and a clenched jaw in frustration.

Eventually I came to terms with my hair. I found the right products and techniques at the bible of curly hair’s Web site: www.naturallycurly.com. I stopped trying to control my hair and just let it go. The less I touched it or thought about it, the better it looked. Now, every day my hair is a surprise. Sometimes it’s more curly, sometimes it’s more wavy. Sometimes it’s got a round shape, sometimes more square. I’ve given up on dissecting the science behind it altogether, and couldn’t be more happy for it.

Perhaps it is my sense of personal triumph and acceptance with my hair that makes me overly sensitive to any twinge of anti-curl undertones in American culture. I frowned when the Anne Hathaway got made over in “The Princess Diaries.” Her wild, wavy hair was tamed to a pin-straight look instead of developed into something rich and beautiful. Just the other day on Bravo!’s show, “The Millionaire Matchmaker,” a woman was told that she needed to permanently straighten her hair because, “men don’t like straight hair. They want hair they can run their fingers through.”
Ugh.

All I can think of is the poor teenage girls, sitting at home with their straightener’s and chemical goo, planning a method of attack on their beautiful, but undeveloped, curls and waves. Please, America. Be accepting of us all. Stop the curl genocide.