My Natural Hair Journey

Doobie Duped
Aidil Oritiz Collins, Raleigh NC

Tim Hussin for the Wall Street Journal

Who knew? As a small child in New York, surrounded by women who shared my Dominican ancestry and supported my identity, I still participated in rituals that paid homage to the "true" standards of beauty.

Every night after my bath, I would wrap a towel around my head and clip it at the nape of my neck. All this to achieve the effect of what hair down my back might feel like. I would swing my "hair" all over the place until it was time for bed.

With stories of my mother ironing her hair straight and Dominican blow-outs whirling in my head, I eventually started to perm my hair. Within a few years, the thinning, breakage and lifelessness of my hair became unbearable.

I chose to stop perms and trim my ends until it was all gone. I didn't have the guts for the big chop. Now here I was in my mid-twenties trying to figure out how to deal with my hair when it wasn't being heavily manipulated with chemicals, potions and other crazy petroleum based concoctions.

Accepting frizz, gorgeous disarray, and the serendipity of my hair has been liberating to my time, wallet, fitness goals and sense of beauty. However, that acceptance is something that I've only been able to find as other women boldly did the same. These sirens of self acceptance chiseled pieces of the internal barriers that stood between where I was and where I was going.

So wear those hair styles big ladies! Seeing your examples has been about more than growing hair. You've helped me grow more into myself.