Have you ever wanted change in your life? That was me for just about all of my life. Nothing was exciting, including myself and in order to change these boring aspects about myself, I changed my appearance. That being, my hair. First, I cut most of it off with a pair of scissors in hopes to somewhat resemble Winona Ryder in Girl, Interrupted. It was a feeble attempt, but I did it. Was I happy with it? Of course not, but I went with it because I felt different and that made me happy. My happiness is one of my main priorities and at the time I was happy with my ugly, choppy, midnight haircut.
After a while, the dull, boring feeling came back and after staring at gorgeous models on the internet for hours I struck inspiration and ordered a purple wig. After a day of anticipation and waiting, I finally got it and again, after waiting and snipping at the long, purple locks, I was content with my new hair. I wore it out all the time: to school, to work, to the mall and I was happy, somewhat. The anxious looks people gave me shook my newfound confidence, but I was content to wear my purple wig, regardless, because it made me happy. I walked with my head up, shoulders back, mimicking someone with perfect posture all thanks to this hair. It wasn't everyone's cup of tea, believe me. I've heard and seen the worst, from the, "You look like a clown," "You look ridiculous." to just the disgusted looks people gave me when I said hello to them during work. But other times, I've heard great things. The people who complimented me made me feel much better after I was put down by others. They kept me wearing my wig on my head high and proud.
That was, until, my mother started yelling at me about this purple monster. I felt terrible after the long yellings she'd give me day in and day out. I'd faced some of these before as when I got my nose ring (also fake), but these were worse. What hurt the most was her telling me I had an identity crisis. I mean, I was myself. I was human and even though I'm a teenager, I would like to believe I'm content with who I am. I just wanted change! But the reason she stated I was having this identity crisis was because I was black. Then I thought, What does that have to do with anything? I know I'm black, but can't I do as everyone else. Sure, I can't pull off purple as a white person may be able to, but if I feel it looks good, why can't I? After hundreds of years of black people fighting to be equal and here we are telling each other what we can and cannot do because of our race that isn't harming anyone. Sure, she is my mother and she may or may not have a point, I just thought that was the silliest notion in the world.
I'm black and on my head lives a very nice, purple monster. Take that, Mother.
