It all started June 2016, I completed my 10 months of service with City Year. For those of you who know me, know that being in City Year was something I struggled with daily. For those who don’t know me, it was the toughest 10 months of my life. It felt as though, I was being robbed of my blackness. In the beginning, I was told that from my manager, and higher up, that my service year was a cause greater to self, that this year wasn’t about me. I was told that my service mattered, that I mattered, and that I would make a difference. Yet, no one told me that I would be in a corps with about 200+ people, and less than 10 percent of those people were of color. No one told me that I would be placed in of the toughest and most neglected schools in Boston. Nope, I was told to keep pushing through because, again, it wasn’t about me. Don’t get me wrong here, I loved my students. They were the only reason I showed up to service every day. Being one out of the two people of color on my team, I knew that my presence mattered. I knew that my skin tone, my thick black curly hair and being an educated woman of color mattered.
I didn’t know going through this journey that I was going to have to explain why my blackness mattered to white adults that were teaching black kids. Yes, I said it, I didn’t know that I was going to have to teach white adults what is like to be black in America, not only as an adult, but what that experience looks like as a child. Being bullied for the color of your skin, hair texture, lips and anything else that didn’t fit European beauty standards. This experience was taxing to my mind, body, spirit and my soul. It changed me. I completed my corps year only for my students. I needed them to understand that Ms. Preval loved them, I wanted to see them shine and show them that they are a voice in this world.
Back to June 2016, now that you have some context, after I completed my 10 months, I knew that I needed to change something, but couldn’t put a finger on what…
It came to me one day, as my friend was doing my hair, I asked her, “What do you think about me cutting me hair? Like, really cutting it really short?”
She replied, without hesitation, “I think it would look great on you.”
Naturally, I was surprised. I was always the type to hide behind my hair. Growing up, I remember always being made fun of for my eyes, lips, cheeks and sometimes my hair. I couldn’t believe I even uttered the words, “cut my hair.” I mentioned the idea to another friend (for context who also has a short haircut) I told her that I think I’m ready to start fresh, and that it was time to start new. She responded saying, “It’s so exciting when a woman cuts her hair, that means she’s ready to change her life for her.” I knew in that moment that I was going to cut my hair.
July 23rd, 2016, 8:30 A.M. was the day of my appointment, I couldn’t believe it. The big chop was really about to happen. I was so nervous, I was thinking of reasons why I should back out but I knew deep down inside I couldn’t. I was nervous during the whole process, I showed my hair stylist, a picture I found on Pinterest. The woman in the picture was plus size, round face, with chubby cheeks, just like me. I looked at the picture one more time and told my stylist that was what I wanted. An hour later, the floor was covered in my hair, THAT CAME FROM MY SCALP. At first, I stared at my new and improved haircut for a long time in the mirror, before getting up from the chair. I was hesitant to leave the salon because I feared how society would perceive me. I feared that I wouldn’t fit in, when in fact, I never fit it in. It was time that I accepted myself.
Fast forward to today and here I am. It took a lot of courage for me to cut my hair, but it took me even more courage to love parts of me that I didn’t allow myself to see. I learned how to love my round face, and dimples. I learned how to love myself with and without makeup. I learned that loving myself inside and out meant more to me than any love a person can offer. I learned true confidence and true acceptance of my flaws. I learned how to accept all of my blackness. I learned to fly without wings, I know this may sound cliché, but I’m spitting facts only, I promise. I learned what it felt like to pick up my crown, and place it on top of my head with the utmost confidence.
I love it when people tell me, “Wow, I’m really loving this new Dayana.” Trust me when I say, I’m loving it too. I’m grateful for this change because change challenged me to grow, self-reflect, love myself, and live my life completely for me.
