There simply cannot be a more comforting sensation in all the Earth, than the feel of that soft, downy cloud of kinks atop your head. Some call it curls. Others call it naps. I call it yours.
There may be times when you wished for a mane like Heather’s. Or Emma’s, Rosa’s or Ming’s for that matter. But what’s yours by nature is truly yours and it will never be duplicated. Sometimes emulated, but all and all seldom appreciated.
And that’s ok.
Only you can sport innumerable bouncy twists on Monday, only to crown your head with a majestic Afro by Tuesday.
Only you can command your follicles to lock onto themselves, creating ropes of glory in any shape, size or color of your choosing.
Only you can massage a stranger’s eyes at the simple sight of your extraordinarily unique texture.
Yours, Black Girl, is a crown that shines like no other and it will always belong to just you. Here’s to wearing it proudly.
Shared With Love,