I don’t know when it started, but I grew up knowing that my hair wasn’t as beautiful as other girls.
The teachers liked girls with blonde hair and blue eyes.
We were supposed to act in a play one time,
And my friends’ roles and mine were supposed to have curly hair.
But the teacher changed them.
She got girls with straight hair to play them.
She said she’d make them wear curly wigs.
The play was never put on at the end, but I was still very sad.
I damaged my hair from straightening it too much.
But I’ve decided to accept that I’m different.
I tell my daughter that she’s beautiful just the way she is,
And that her hair is beautiful, even though I can’t tell yet if it’s curly or not.