It was summer, and I was only around children. So I had no reason to look, nice or professional. I just tossed a bandana over it and paid it no mind. I’d get my hair relaxed when school started again.
There was this five year old girl in my group. The epitome of what beauty is supposed to be: smooth light skin, bright blue eyes, long blonde hair. Her shoe came untied and when I knelt down to tie it she saw my hair under my bandana.
She touched my hair and delightedly squealed, “fluffy!” No one had ever taught her that the natural state of my hair was wrong. Something that needed to be burned and pressed until it was more like hers. To her, the differences between us were something marvelous, to be celebrated, not hidden.
I learned on that day that everyone in this world, no matter how young or how different, has something to teach me. Even if that lesson is simply how to look at myself with new eyes.