Authors: Lorraine Massey,Michele Bender
ARE YOU A CURLY GIRL?
The Curly 10I could give you a million compelling reasons to go curly! But let’s start with ten:
1.
You become freer with your hair. (And you feel more free to be yourself.)2.
Curls make you look younger.3.
Going curly means going green. The detergents (sulfates) in shampoo pollute the water, so living a sulfate-free life helps keep the earth’s water supply clean. Not using blow-dryers and flat irons means you’re saving electricity.4.
Life is simpler because you don’t need any plug-ins for hair care.5.
Curls equal less stress. Your life no longer revolves around the weather.6.
Travel becomes easy. You’ll pack fewer products and no appliances, and won’t worry about how a new climate will affect your hair.7.
You are more active. You no longer have to skip a dip in the pool or a sweaty workout.8.
If it rains on a special occasion, you won’t have to worry.9.
You’ll save the time and money you spent on hair appointments.10.
Learning to accept and love your curls means learning to accept and love yourself!
CURL CONFESSIONJesse Reese
human resources generalistFor most of my life I wanted to be like all the girls whose straight-haired ponytails swooshed from side to side. But my curls were simply uninspired. I wore them in a ponytail day in and day out in an attempt to hide the fact that my hair was different. Then in college, I discovered products for curly hair and a salon that knew how to cut my curls and make them look shiny, healthy, and full of life. I had never been more excited to be a curly girl.
In my senior year, I participated in a mock interview with my university’s career center to prepare myself for my upcoming job search. Afterward, the man conducting the faux interview gave me some “constructive” criticism—not about my answers or resume, but about my appearance. “For your real interviews, straighten your hair,” he said. “Curly hair is unprofessional.” I’ve never been more offended in my life. I told him that my hair is a part of who I am and I would never work for an employer who wouldn’t hire someone because of the shape of her hair.
Loving my curls has changed my outlook on life and helped me become an independent woman. And it has given me the confidence to stand up to people who believe that women must fit a certain mold—a mold that requires straight hair. I am determined to break that mold and show others that curly girls are empowered women and that we are here to stay. We’re girls! We have curls! Get used to it!
Curly Girl: An Introduction (1:40)
I love care labels in clothes. They make me respect a fabric and think carefully about how I treat it. If only our hair came with a care label! The truth is, there isn’t much difference chemically between your hair and the fine wool that comes off a pashmina goat. The 100,000 or so hair fibers on your head stretch and absorb moisture, just like wool, which is composed of the same elements as hair: carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, oxygen, and sulfur. Because hair is a fiber—a delicate, special fiber made up of millions of cells—it makes sense to treat it with the utmost respect, the way you would the other precious fibers that you own or admire.
On every curly-haired baby’s head, there should be a care label reading: Delicate. No harsh shampoos. No machine drying. Air-dry only. Never iron.
CURL CONFESSIONDeborah Chiel
writerThe morning of my father’s funeral, I had a really bad hair day. I don’t mean to sound disrespectful, but this was my worst nightmare come true. All my life, I’d suffered because of my curly hair: bad cuts, ill-fated attempts to grow my hair long, hours spent straightening it with hideous-smelling chemicals, dates gone bad because my hair had morphed into a giant ball of frizz.
Decades later, I still believe I would’ve had a more successful high school social life if the sun had been shining and the humidity low as I walked into my first class in a new school. Worst of all were the Saturday mornings of my adolescence, most of which I spent in synagogue because my father was the rabbi. I would stand in front of the mirror, wailing because my hair had taken on shapes not known in nature. But my father refused to accept the frizz factor as a reason not to show up at services. I sat in synagogue week after week, hating my hair, myself, my life. I didn’t have a bad hair day. I had a bad hair decade.
After college, I started therapy, and rehashed how much misery my hair had caused me during my curl-hood, especially as a teenager. My therapist seemed to think that my unhappiness was related to other, more profound issues, but what did she know? Her hair was stick straight.
Years passed. I had my ears pierced, exchanged my glasses for contact lenses, and began to emerge from my curl-related shell. Then came my father’s unexpected death from a heart attack. On this most painful occasion of my life, when hundreds of people were expected to attend the funeral, my hair betrayed me. No doubt much of my reaction was displaced grief, but my anti-curl emotions ran deep and had a powerful hold over my psyche.
My story has a happy ending. I eventually met Lorraine, who encouraged me to stop fighting with my hair and cultivate my curls by growing them long. These days, I feel sexier, freer, more flirtatious, even drawn to glitter and sequins. I am constantly astonished and gratified by my curls and people’s reactions to them.
You’d never dream of washing a good wool or cashmere sweater with just any old detergent. But most people don’t think twice about applying shampoo to the priceless fiber that’s sitting on top of their head. The problem is that shampoos have a dirty little secret: They contain harsh detergents such as sodium lauryl sulfate, ammonium laureth sulfate, or sodium laureth sulfate, which are foaming agents found in dishwashing liquid and laundry detergent. Sure, they’re good for pots and pans because they cut grease so effectively.
Your hair, on the other hand, needs to retain its natural oils to protect it and your scalp. Stripping them away deprives the hair of necessary moisture, amino acids, and antibodies, and makes it look dry, dull, and lifeless. It also does the same thing to skin. When I was a junior hair assistant in Leicester, England, I’d wash ten to fifteen heads of hair a day and my hands would be chapped and bleeding because of all the detergents in the shampoos. That’s not surprising since chemists all over the world have proven that detergents are skin and eye irritants. Still, companies continue to use detergents in shampoos, which were first commercially available after World War II, because they are cheap. And because we’re addicted to suds!
You don’t have to take my word for it. To see what detergent does to your hair, try this simple experiment in your kitchen: Pour a bit of dishwashing detergent onto a damp sponge and squeeze gently. Voilà, bubbles! Now, hold the sponge under running water and notice that it seems to take forever to rinse it free of the lather. I’ve done this experiment with various shampoos and soaps and have been shocked to find that in some cases the bubbles were there ten hours later! The point is that you never really get rid of all that detergent. It stays in your hair, and it pollutes our water system.
Shampoo isn’t good for any hair, but for curly girls it’s a disaster. That’s because curly hair is so porous that it absorbs detergent like a sponge. Put it in your hair and it doesn’t rinse out. The truth is that lathers don’t really cleanse at all. Manufacturers put lathering agents into products so you’ll buy into the joy-of-suds myth. You know, those women in TV commercials moaning in ecstasy as they lather up their heads in the shower, then reappear seconds later sporting wonderfully styled hair, shining with vitality. Well, forget the advertising campaigns that put sudsiness right up there next to cleanliness, godliness, and sexiness. It doesn’t work that way—
especially for curls—and you don’t have to buy into it.