How I learned to embrace my culture, by embracing my hair.

AGE 5

I’m sitting in front of my dad as he meticulously combs through my hair. I don’t remember much from this age except for this moment every sunday. My hair is nicely styled every day by my mom when I have to go to school. Braids, headbands, ponytails, you name it, she does it for me. She talks about how she used to braid her hair when she was a little girl and how she likes doing it for me. I usually wear a long braid when we sit in the gurdwara. It’s uncomfortable sitting cross legged for so long, but my grandparents like it when we go. It hurts sometimes, the yanking on my head, my mom lacks a certain kind of patience that my dad has, but she always makes it look nice for me. My dad is a lot gentler. He and my mom both have nice hair, but while my mom’s is straight, his is curlier. Mine is somewhere in the middle. He combs through my hair from top to bottom, the bottom half always curling back up, while the top always stays straight. I wish my hair was a little easier to care for sometimes, I think it’s funny how people act so surprised when I tell them I've never cut it. I tell them it’s a part of my religion, which prompts them to ask more questions I don't feel like answering, I just want to get back to playing. I get called jasmine on picture day, but i don’t think it's as funny as the person taking my photo. My hair always makes me stand out, whether I like it or not. 

AGE 10

My hair has gotten even longer and became a lot wilder. It’s frizzy, poofy, and brushing it down only seems to make it worse. My mom still helps me with my hair, but I'd never admit that to anyone, especially if I'm going into middle school next year. My dad still makes sure to comb my hair on Sundays, but I find it harder to not fidget. Sitting still for the gurdwara becomes more difficult when I start getting growing pains, but my parents still make me go. The highlight is the food. The warm, aromatic, and fragrant dishes always make me feel extra sleepy as we say our goodbyes to everyone before getting into the car to do nothing for the rest of the day. I’ve learned to enjoy the music and instruments, even if I don't understand the words. I try to learn what some of them mean, but I only ever remember a few. Between sitting for so long, the aching in my legs and my hair being too tight, I want nothing but to escape this feeling of uncomfortability. Being 10 is weird, I'm in an in-between phase of my life where nothing feels right, especially my hair. When it's wet, it usually gets a little wavy, but all of that disappears when I brush it out . Most days I half attempt a ponytail or do a loose messy braid that always has hairs sticking out at the top no matter what I do. Even if they don’t point it out, my hair never looks like my friend’s hair. For graduation, my mom makes my hair nice by straightening it until it goes down past my waist. I’ve never gotten so many compliments on it. Somedays I think it would be easier if my hair was like this all the time, if my hair looked like everyone else’s. 

AGE 15

The pandemic has been going on for a few months now, and in between the lack of socialization and zoom school, I've grown bored of just staying at home and doom scrolling. All of the videos I’ve seen are about “ways to glow up” or “how to improve your appearance” that I’ll brush off, but deep down know they’re making some sort of impact on my brain. I never see anyone with my kind of hair or appearance, just the same silky straight, always effortless, always perfect. For me, High school is about appearance. I went from a side part to a middle part, started trying to brush my hair straight, and still answering questions about how long it was, or why I had never cut it. I still get surprised when people ask me. I thought it was the least interesting thing about me, but turns out it's not. In between those moments of doomscrolling, I come across a few easy hair styling videos. Most of them involve curling, wrapping, and tying your hair with socks, bandanas, or rollers in order to achieve a “blowout” look. Even though I'm not going anywhere, I decided to give it a try. It’s been a while since I cared about my hair. I start off with wrapping my hair with socks, trying to get it to make pin curls like the tutorials on tiktok. After a few attempts, it half works, looking good after I've just woken up, but slowly falling out and turning into waves. I don’t mind the look of them at all, it’s not as straight and frizzy as when I brush it out, but not as curly as my hair used to be. I keep wearing my hair like this until I start coming across videos of other people with hair like mine. There's varying levels of waves and curls as I learn, and just as many ways to style them. I start with scrunching, curling, and adding gel that I steal from my dad’s bathroom, curl cream from my sisters, and mousse I buy from shoppers. Slowly but surely I've created an artillery of styling products, some work, some don’t, but I have fun experimenting. My favourite part is seeing videos from other south asian girls with curly hair. Hearing their stories of having to brush it out, straighten it, tie it up, all things I did. I learn from them as much as I learnt from my family. Even though we can’t go to the gurdwara, we still go over to my grandparents house for food. My grandparents compliment my hair, saying it looks like theirs when they were young. Those Sunday afternoon lunches have my grandparents sharing stories of their youth, of their immigration, and their time in India. My grandfather tells us a story of him cutting his hair when he moved to Canada, and my aunt not recognizing him. In that moment, I silently thank the fact that I would never have to go through that. I start letting it down more often. Slowly but surely, I started to embrace the curls, waves, and straight bits of my hair. Even with no one to see it, I feel proud of it and myself. 

AGE 19

I still make it a habit to wash and comb through my hair every Sunday. Although I don't have the same patience as my dad, I try my best to gently brush through all the knots and tangles in my hair. I've been doing it for a few years now, and I do sometimes wish someone else would do the painstaking process for me, but I don't mind doing it myself. My routine has become a ritual, doing the same styling and scrunching routine, even though my hair seems to turn out different every time. Living away with new people means a new cycle of old questions. This time I don't mind when people act in amazement when I tell them I've never cut it. Instead I take the time to explain why, and why I probably never will. They look at me dumbfounded when I tell them my dad, or my sisters haven’t either. I’ll talk to them about how long it takes me to do my whole process from start to finish, and answer all their questions on what products I use, how I keep it so healthy. Even though I don’t go to the gurdwara while I'm in Kingston, and although I'm away from my family, I still find solace in my hair care routine. My hair makes me unique, and I think I'm finally okay with standing out.