Chopping Expectations
I have tried to write this more times than I care to admit. I’ve been mia from my blog for entirely too long. So much has happened in my life since my last post, but I am certainly not here to give an overview or recap. I am walking a journey of healing and thought I would invite you to join me.
On July 13, 2018 I loc’ed my hair, and on August 9, 2020 I chopped my locs off. I heard a lot of “why’s” and “don’t do it’s” anytime I even mentioned the possibility of cutting them off someday. People told me how important and special the journey was and why I should keep them forever. On my two-year anniversary I had them cut into a bob and there were endless comments about my decision to do that. I felt like I could not win for losing. Don’t cut them off everyone said, but apparently, I also was not supposed to cut them shorter. Well, the sermon my Bishop preached on Sunday the August 2nd certainly did not have a single thing to do with hair (ha-ha), but it helped confirm my decision to go forward with the big chop. One line of my notes reads “Many of us are bound in the hand of confusion. We have too many voices telling us what to do.” Life changing! Why, you ask?
I have spent the better part of my life trying to people please. I do not like anyone to be angry with me and I certainly do not want to disappoint anyone. I have always found myself doing things I did/do not care for or did/do not want to do, not because I am a follower, but because I want to make everyone happy, or because I try to do what is expected of me. I care too much about what others think of me. I remember a time in elementary school during a class activity I said my favorite color was yellow because my dad called me sunshine, and several people laughed. They said I was too black to like yellow and would look like a bumblebee if I ever wore it. I was devastated. They called me crispy critter and would make buzzing sounds whenever they went past me. From that day forward I started saying my favorite color was black. In high school my mom bought me this amazing yellow FUBU (yes, I said FUBU) outfit, as a gift. I wore it to school and received the same devastating comments as I did back in elementary school. I had to pretend like I did not like the outfit and acted like I had no idea why my mom chose that “awful” color. When I wore it for one of my senior pictures, I played it off as if I had to because my mom wanted me to. But, to be honest, to this day that was my favorite outfit of the entire photo shoot.
Those character traits from my childhood, stuck with me right into adulthood. I continued attempting to people please, avoid disappointing anyone, and doing things others expected of me even when I did not want to. I will be 38 years old in 3 months, and I am just now taking the steps to break free of this negative cycle of thought and behavior. I did not even start honestly claiming yellow as my favorite color again until about a year ago. It took me more than 30 years to become comfortable in my skin and appreciate what God created.
Naming a favorite color may not seem like a big deal, but it was the first snip in my life’s big chop. What a freeing feeling it was to just open my mouth and say to someone “yellow is my favorite color.” Gone are the negative words from the children of my past. Gone is the faulty thinking telling me to lie about what makes me happy. Gone is the belief that I must like and accept what others say I should.
And THAT is what this journey is about. I held on to the locs because people said I couldn’t do it. They said I did not know how to commit. They said it was the best look on me. Well, I’ve chopped off those expectations, and I have no desire to please anyone other than God. I don’t pretend to suddenly have it all together, and I certainly know there is a lot of work to be done to truly have my mind renewed. But that is why I said this is a healing journey.
When I cut my locs off on Sunday, I counted just over 150 locs. Every loc was different. Each one held its own story about its journey. As I was cutting them off, I could feel the weight falling off with each one. Not the weight of the physical hair, but the mental and emotional weight from other people’s expectations that were attached to me. When the hair was gone, I felt free. I felt I was finally authentically being me.
As my hair begins to grow again, I plan to grow with it. I’ll be chopping expectations one at a time. I started small with the truth of my favorite color, but I know there are bigger things I have allowed to attach to me, such as: other’s expectations of how I should behave as a Christian, a woman, an African-American, a mother, a business owner, a daughter, a sister, a friend, a girlfriend, an employee; how I should dress, cook, and live my daily life; what relationships I should have, romantic, familial, or friendly; how I should manage my finances and where I should spend my money. And those are just the very general things. What I must be able to do moving forward is respond to each one of those with what God said HE expects of me. If I do that, I cannot lose.
So, if you see me out with my new cut, don’t ask me why I did it. Instead, ask me what. What am I working on? What did I cut off most recently? What have I learned so far? What am I writing about? What am I reading? You can help keep me accountable as we walk this journey of healing.
Remember this: Every day that I seek instruction from God and walk by His expectation/standard, His light shines through me, and that my friends is the key to another day of sunshine! See you next time.