My early childhood was filled with barrettes and rainbow-colored bobos, for any and every occasion. My mother would style my hair and my sister’s—routinely refreshing our giant puffs or adding barrettes and beads to our braids. Her go-to products were Liv Conditioner and Sulfur8 grease to tame flyaways through our robust days in Brooklyn.
Later, when I was a young girl living in Virginia, my hair identity really transformed. I remember walking into my new school and noticing that most girls wore their hair straight, typically permed and hot-combed, with colored elastic headbands to control their edges. An eager middle schooler, I quickly realized that I was one of few girls with a natural fro. My mother was proud of how she had managed to keep my natural hair healthy and growing, and she didn’t want me to perm it—even though my sister and my cousins had already permed theirs. I now wish I had listened; but, of course, everyone has their own hair journey.
I got a perm in late middle school and wore overly greased, straightened hair through high school. As I headed off to college, I knew I needed a change. I cut my hair short and began growing my fro, from a TWA to a bountiful big one.
When I started in the fashion industry almost 15 years ago, I was a dedicated student of style trends, excited to work with the best editors and publications. I was a sponge, relishing the fast-paced nature of the fashion business while absorbing every detail and strategy needed to succeed. And I was a chameleon, able to blend into any room—or at least, that was my goal.
As I grew in the industry, so did my hair. During my assistant days at Vogue, I always wore it tucked under a wrap or in box braids for ease. I would flat twist my strands with curl creams and natural oils at night; then I’d cover them in an African wax scarf in the morning, before heading to early shoots or appointments with brands and clients. It was my job as a fashion editor to know every collection, season after season. I prided myself on my work ethic and my dedication, as a young Black stylist making her name.
In time, my hair created an identity for me. As I became better known, I started to wear my fro big—releasing it from African wraps and braids, allowing it to be seen. As I glided into fashion shows, photographers and street-style watchers always searched for and noticed my big, bouncy do. That, paired with my bright and bold style, produced a lot of exhilarating energy. My hair texture, more Angela Davis than Diana Ross, always commanded attention. It greeted every set and job, before I even uttered a word. After a few years, it became a signature look—the reason I started to book jobs as a model rather than as a stylist.
I began to understand how beauty and style could help me stand out. Folks in the industry loved the uniqueness of my natural style. My big hair was a crowd favorite! In reality, my huge fro required that I plan my styles around events and dinners, to ensure that its larger-than-life nature would continue. Every night I was stretching my tresses with the rubber-band method, or a blow-dryer if I ran out of time.
After all my years wearing braids and head wraps, my vibrant strands were voluminous and healthy—until one day they weren’t. Pandemic stress, coupled with endless shoots and partnerships that demanded my hair in its full state, led to breakage. I started to wear Heat Free Hair wigs, to keep my mane healthy, and braids when I needed a full break. But my hair didn’t bounce back as bountifully as before; and honestly, it needed some time to grow outside of the style confines I had locked myself into.
And like my hair, I, too, needed a break from the hustle and bustle of the fashion world. I moved to Jamaica in late 2021, ready for an entire lifestyle change. After several cuts and hues, I realized I was trying to reconfigure my identity through my hair at the same time as I was making a major life transition. My move helped me to wholly embrace my natural hair and texture in every stage.
Immersing myself in a predominately Black island quelled the not-always-conscious hair insecurities I had internalized from being a Black woman in America. Everywhere I looked, natural fros, locs and braids were worn by the people. In Jamaica, women also wore their curly fros in simple protective styles: buns with a little gel, or loose plaits—while men confidently sported locs at every length or braids in eccentric styles.
During my first year in Jamaica—liberated from the constant pressure of being under the White gaze—I gleefully rocked these protective styles when going to dinner with friends and to nature adventures at the beach or river. I started to get used to my hair in every stage and style, as I traded in unrealistic and unhealthy beauty standards for a deeper level of hair acceptance. In Jamaica, I learned to appreciate my hair, with all its kinks and coils.
Now I’m in my 30s, and while my hair is still growing and becoming healthier, I am enjoying it all. I love showing up to any event with my hair no longer the focal point. I recently transitioned back to dark brown, from a three-year stint wearing an auburn color—and I have been using products that add extra protein to my tresses. This includes the Olaplex Daily Cleanse & Condition Kit and the K18 Leave-In Hair Mask, biweekly. I also love using Ceremonia’s line for styling when I am wearing my hair in a fro. I apply their leave-in conditioner for additional moisture and their rescue spray when my curls need a little lift. I swear by Pattern’s hair accessories—such as their hair pick and spray bottle, which I depend on to make my fro big and bouncy without too much tension.
For hair oils, I transition between Mielle Organics Rosemary Mint Scalp & Hair Strengthening Oil for my edges, Act+Acre Cold Processed Scalp Detox Oil for my hair shaft and Bread Hair-Oil Everyday Gloss for a nice gloss. Protective styles such as cornrows, flexi-curls and loose twists are my go-tos, as Jamaica’s humidity will always have the last laugh. I go to the hair salon weekly here in Kingston, so my maintenance routine during the week is all about moisture. I’ve finally found a salon that caters to my hair growth and budget, giving me the opportunity to experiment with various styles. I’ve allowed my hair to live and thrive in its fullest nature, and it really has helped me love every strand.