The decision was made when my flat iron stopped working.

First, the side of the flat iron broke and one of the plates wouldn’t stay in. I feared burning myself because the hot plate would constantly slide out.

Then, I had to twist the cord a certain way to get the flat iron to stay on. It was difficult to use the flat iron because it would quietly turn off as I was parting sections in my hair. What took only half an hour to do now took 75-minutes. I hate spending that much time on my hair.

I had had enough…

I no longer wanted long, relaxed hair. I wanted something sexier and more authentic. In essence, I wanted to wear the natural hair that God gave me.

Ponytails became my friend…

The last time I visited my hair stylist was right before my 40th birthday in January. I can go 12-weeks in between touch-ups. So, when April rolled around and the date for my touch-up arrived, I looked at the date in the calendar with indifference.

As winter turned into spring, I wanted a fresh new look to match the fresh new season. Even the thought of visiting my stylist to get a “touch up” made me feel bored and restless.

I started rocking ponytails to hide the growth underneath the straight pieces of my hair. With the amount of natural hair growing from my scalp, the ponytail started to get smaller and smaller.

A portion of my hair was dropping out. As I was transitioning, huge swaths of my hair were falling out strand by strand.

So I did the big chop…

I gave my sister the heads up that I needed her help to chop the relaxed strands off my head. My sister was excited. I gave her a pair of scissors and she chopped away.

Clumps of my hair fell to the ground. It was like quiet rain. The strands of hair left my head and softly wafted to the floor.

I can’t say that I found my independence or freedom…

I read an article called 5 Principles for Transitioning Your Hair and Your Life. In it, the author says that she discovered her fearlessness, resilience and individuality when she transitioned to her natural hair.

I wish I could say that this happened to me…

I didn’t feel freedom or resilience. I didn’t feel like I was making a political statement. I didn’t feel like I had to convert all relaxer-wearing women to the natural hair movement, nor did I feel like I was reclaiming my agency.

This is not the first time I’ve done the big chop. I did so about 15-years ago after ending a relationship with a guy who obsessed about my relaxed hair. I cut it off to cleanse myself of him and of his obsession.

But this isn’t the case this time around…

This time, I did the big chop for me. I had the choice to do so and I did it. It’s as simple as that. My hair represents choices that I’m allowed to make as a law-abiding, God-fearing woman living in a democratic country. Making a choice about my hair reminded me that…

• I choose to make decisions for myself.
• I choose to live the life I want to live.
• I choose to pursue the things I want to pursue.
• I choose to define me on my own terms.

Transitioning to my natural hair helped me see that I just want to exist in this life as me…

Ultimately, my natural hair represents what I want and not what I’m fighting against…

• I want truth-telling people in my life. Like my family members. People who love me fiercely and aren’t afraid to lovingly call me on my crap. Clients who are vulnerable and share their crap with me, so I can help them breakthrough their breakdown.
• I want authentic experiences. Like biking on Canada’s longest trail. Or, playing games with my niece in the middle of the afternoon on a workday. Or, attending a peach and corn festival. Or, visiting a small town with rich history.
• I want to interact face-to-face with interesting people. Not online where people can invent or manipulate a non-existent lifestyle. I want to connect with people over coffee or at an event. Smell their perfume. Hear their accent. See the colour of their eyes.
• I want to challenge my level of comfort with new and interesting things. Like the adventure race I competed in this year.  Or, a book launch at a glitzy hotel. Or, climbing Mt Everest. Or, trying to drive through Malaysia. Or, starring in my first stage play (it’s called Finding a Wife for Isaiah).
• I want my 80-year old self to look back and say “I have no regrets.”

Whatever decision you make about your hair is your business…

I don’t get why those with natural hair pass judgement on those with relaxed hair. I don’t understand why some get mad that someone dyed their hair pink. Or purple. Or red. It makes no sense to me. Who cares how someone else wears their hair? Really, who fracking cares?

What matters are our choices…

Ask yourself:

• What am I consistently giving up because I’m trying to play it safe?
• What experience am I avoiding because I want to be liked by everyone all the time?
• How many years need to go by before I finally get done what needs to get done?
• What will my 80-year old self say when she looks back on the choices I’ve made?
• What story do I need to stop believing or who do I need to stop blaming so I can finally live the rest of my life to the fullest?

Share the story about your hair choices below…