My Hair

I wrote a lot of poetry in college. My sophomore year (2005) I debated whether or not I should stop relaxing my hair.  This poem was written at the very beginning of my transition.  This is my favorite poem that I’ve written.

My Hair

I like to examine
the way my hair grows
at the roots,
The fuzz of my frizz
and the contours of my curls
I can’t remember.

Every six weeks
I burn them with chemicals,
breaking down the beauty
I was Given.

For simplicity, perhaps
or maybe
I’m trying to reach a standard
expected of me
I can never achieve;
a straightness
that wasn’t Created–
by God–
for me.

I want it to grow back
all of it.
I want a mane
like Leo,
the lioness that I am.
I can’t remember what my hair looks like!
Because beyond the roots,
only the raggedy, scraggly wannabe
of something I’m not, I see.


As you can see, I went through with the transition. (December 2005) Glad I did 🙂

© Talia Clay

1 thought on “My Hair”

  1. Pingback: Hair Story: A Quest to Minimize My Blackness – TALIA CLAY

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