Hair

Before I say anything else, I have to just directly link you to THE place that anyone wanting any help or information about the hair of humans who probably have ancestors from somewhere in Africa, which is: www.chocolatehairvanillacare.com It is a blog by a white mom of a gorgeous black daughter. She is to trans-racial adoptive hair care what Michelle Duggar is to big family motherhood. She has her act together. So there is the blog about that.

Here, however, is a humbler source of thoughts and information. Really, it's a confession of sorts, with the potential of some testimonies of lessons learned along the way. And the way, by the way, is a pretty short way, at this point. She has been my daughter for over two years now, but hair-wise, has only needed something special for more like a year or less.

That's not to say her hair didn't need more than what I was giving it, but the truth is that baby hair is pretty forgiving. Older hair, curly, especially of the African Ancestry variety, needs more specific T.L.C. than I really was prepared to give.

So, Sopie, which is what we call her sometimes, short for sopapilla, has now and for a while now has had hair that needs some important love.

And here is what it needs.

1. Not shampoo. Shampoo takes all the oil and flex and life out of it, makes it crunchy and hard impossible to detangle. It doesn't matter what kind of shampoo. Even shampoo that looks for all the world like something that ought be used on her hair with pictures of people who look like her and words like olive oil and moisture should still not be used.

2. To be in a protective but not painful style, braids or whatever will stay in and keep her hair from needing detangled every day.

3. To be detangled. Which requires . . .

4. Lots of some kind of really good for it conditioner, without alcohol, like Kiss My Face conditioner or the stuff they sell at Trader Joe's.

5. Oil, reapplied almost daily.

6. To be cleaned sometimes (like once a month or after every meal) with super watered down apple cider vinegar. The easiest, quickest, most obnoxious and frightening way to do this is to fill a bathroom sink with warm water and add 1/4th cup or so of the vinegar and give the child an upside down head dip/aka, a swirlie.

7. I think there is another something I am not doing right, but did I mention I am just learning?

The tricky thing about all this is that not everyone does it the same. From my admittedly limited European ancestry perspective, some people of apparent African ancestry seem to not love their hair, and treat it with less love but apparently more care, if that makes sense. I want Sopie's hair to be styled so it is protected (healthy) and requires less daily maintenance. The less daily maintenance, in addition to the fact that I don't have time to do it, is mostly because I don't want her to hate her hair or her ancestry. I want her to love the hair God gave her. So, at 2 years of age, I don't want her to a) have her hair roughly styled by lovely, well meaning strangers who are trying to make it look awesome b) have to sit any longer than necessary, left out of all the sibling action.

So, we are doing 6 - 10 divisions with less than perfect parts and not super tight, braided and just twisted around my finger at the end, no rubber bands anywhere. It is unbelievable to me that it stays that way without holders. I remember being envious of little girls with that kind of hair when I was in grade school.

This hair style isn't going to win me any awards for most stylish kid. But that is consistent with the way I parent all my kids. I am not trying to make my kids the best dressed/best looking kids on the block. I just want them to look like they have parents. To be modest. To be warm enough or cold enough, preferably. To be, um, un-hole-ey. We mostly don't wear hand-me-downs shirts of activities we haven't actually participated in, schools we have not attended, sports we don't play, places we haven't gone, or vacations we haven't been on.

I try to have my kids look just good enough for people to not look at them and say, "well, you can sure tell they're from a big family." That's another blog, don't remember what it was called. But my adopted daughter is my daughter. She will not be dressed or styled to the nines with the rest of my gang looking healthy, loved, and a little scruffy. They're all mine. God didn't give her to me so I could keep her looking perfect. I'm s'posed to love her. And I do.

And part of my loving her is helping her love herself. And her hair. When she is old enough to say, mom I'd really like to sacrifice my entire Saturday and do 'this' to my hair, I'll do it, or have an older daughter do it. But for now, healthy and strong and at peace (relative peace) is my highest objective.