Saturday, March 04, 2006
The Pressing Comb
A prompt from the writing group I'm a part of suggested that I look in a junk drawer and pick an object to write on that brings out memories. Being that I was away from home at the time I mentally thought up the things in the kitchen junk drawer. Out off the ball of twine, telephone cords, pliers and other little knick knacks I choose the pressing comb....
It's been about five years or more since I have had a perm. Funny, I thought a perm or a relaxer was my permanent emancipation from burn marks behind the ears and the back of my neck and hearing someone yelling at me to hold still so that could "catch my ends." So, during my sixth grade year in school, my aunt slapped that Pressing Comb in the Jar onto my hair and I tucked the actual pressing comb into the junk drawer in the kitchen, vowing to never pick up the wretched tool again. I mean, God Bless Madam C.J. Walker, but how much more of the burns could I take? Perhaps pressing combs were the reasons why my mother, grandmother and great-grandmother kept cocoa butter in the house. It was for accidental hot comb burns.
Nevertheless, all the chemicals ever did was send my hair into a sudden trauma. It grew, but it could never find it's way out of that icky stage of being short in some areas and long in others. Affectionately, this is known as the "In between stage," the point in which your hair is too confused about it's growth so you are either forced to throw in the extensions or cut down.
Perhaps part of it is my fault for not tying it down right at night or even at all. Maybe I didn't grease my scalp often enough. Afterall, my hair is thick and it sucks up oil like a Hoover. One day my hair is glistening in the sun as if it were some kind of exotic oasis. The next day it's looking like the Sahara, thick, dry and craving for a quencher. Maybe the fact that I wasn't careful enough when removing polywax extensions or sewn in tracks had something to do with the stunted growth of my hair. Then again, it may have something to do with receiving my first real hair cut during my junior year in high school. What possessed me to even want to chop off my mane, I have no clue.
At any rate, my new found freedom came around the time I started college. I was still getting my hair trimmed from the cut, but after a while, I decided to let my hair grow out. Soon I went from a full fledge perm to getting my hair texturized. Afterwhile I let the chemicals grow out and my hair is now in an "au natural" state. I just wanted to know what it felt like to have my hair back in it's natural state.
Thick, coils that naturally curl into a tight puff when wet, kinky and unevenly "yoked" ends at this point, my hair is in a state of confusion. A couple of times I worn my hair in kinky twists but I quickly grew tired with that. I'm at a constant inner battle with my hair. Should I dread? Should I continue to wear twists? Should I go back to getting my hair texturized and then flexirod (small tendrils curled with soft foamy rods which made my hair look like a nicely shaped short cropped afro) Should just go ahead and run back to the perm and then throw in the extending to make up for whatever length I'm lacking at the moment?
For each question I've asked about my hair, I've answered myself with a no. It's the most frustrating thing in the world when you have no clue what to do with your own hair. What has taken me aback is the fact that I seem to have found a love for wigs. Wigs have been a safety net (if you will) for me for the past three or so years. I notice how my moods may change accordingly too. With a long, straight, but full of body wig, I feel a bit flirty, sensual and mysterious. With a curly one I tend to feel kind of playful and active. Yet, just like with any other hairstyle, I grow tired of wigs too.
However, while in the phase of wearing wigs, I've been running back to the very thing that I ran from at the age of twelve...the pressing comb. Every two to three weeks, I'll wash my hair. I'll slap some of the Healthy Hair Butter product from Carol's Daughter, which has helped in some growth. Then I'll fire up the stove, lay the pressing comb on top of the burner and then set a damp wash cloth on the side (to cool the comb off some when it comes right off the stove)
Funny thing is, I don't press my hair bone straight. I still want the natural feel of it. I don't worry much about catching the ends. Instead, I press it enough to make it manageable for a comb, brush an my fingers to make it through. However, even the process of making it manageable takes an hour because my hair is so thick.
I will say, I haven't had to worry about any one burning my ears or neck. However, once the comb was so hot, that even cooling it on the wet cloth first didn't help. I burned a good but small portion of hair in the back/neck area. I try not to use the pressing comb every time I wash my hair, because I do know the dangers of heat to the hair.
Someday soon I'll be liberated totally from the pressing comb, but in all honestly, isn't this the Black girl's "in case of emergency" tool? Even if it is just to tighten the edges just a tad?
Posted by KomplexPhemale ::
10:06 PM ::
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