More Than Just Hair: Embracing Vanity as Acts of Self-Love
Yesterday, I sat in Teresa’s chair at Coleman Hair Company, and let me tell you… this middle-part bustdown is bussdowning with layers so cute and fluffy, you couldn’t tell me I’m not Kash Doll Jr. Baby, I am her. That moment when she turned me to the mirror? I felt renewed, like the best version of myself was staring back.
Walking out of the salon, swinging my hair like it had its own agenda, it wasn’t just about how good I looked. It was about how I felt. My mood was lifted, my confidence restored, and I felt aligned with myself again. For Black women, hair isn’t just hair. It’s deeply tied to identity, culture, and our emotional well-being. And while this connection has roots in systemic oppression, choosing to care for ourselves in the way we want is an act of liberation and you cannot make me feel bad about that.
Hair Depression Is Real
We don’t talk about it enough, but hair depression is real. It’s that in-between space when you’re over your wash-n-go, stuck wearing the same bun for weeks, or can’t afford the bundles or braids you want right now. It’s not just being annoyed with your hair—it’s about feeling out of sync with yourself.
I recently vlogged my hair appointment, and while getting my hair done isn’t the only thing that helps me out of the funk, it’s a big part of the process. Sitting in the chair, being cared for, and walking out feeling brand new reminds me how important it is to prioritize myself. It’s not just about the final look—it’s about the energy shift that happens when I take time to love on myself.
If you’re visually nosey like me- check out my TikTok: “Come Cure Hair Depression With Me”—it’s all about the process, the ambiance, and, of course, the glow-up.
When your hair isn’t done, it’s harder to feel confident or motivated. That disconnect can spill into everything; your mood, your energy, even how you show up for the day. And while we may laugh about it, hair depression deserves to be taken seriously. It’s a reflection of how closely our emotional well-being is tied to how we care for ourselves.
When I prioritize my hair care, I’m doing more than fixing a style. I’m pouring into myself. I’m reminding myself that I’m worth the effort. That small act of care (whether it’s sitting in the shop or doing my hair at home) can completely shift my mood.
The Salon as a Sacred Space
For so many Black women, the shop has historically been one of the few safe spaces we have. It’s where we connect, decompress, and recharge. But these spaces are becoming harder to find, especially those that are welcoming, affirming, and truly safe. Too often, getting our hair done feels more like a chore than an act of care. Overbooked stylists, long waits, and the scarcity of Black-owned salons in some areas make it harder to enjoy the experience. This mirrors a broader issue: the erosion of community spaces for Black people. Rebuilding and maintaining these spaces, whether they’re salons, churches, or even online communities, is a form of resistance.
When you finally find that space where you’re cared for, respected, and not rushed it’s magic.
The Narratives We Carry
Something I’ve noticed, especially when I wear my natural hair, is how quick people are to project their narratives onto me “Your hair is so nice. Why don’t you wear it out more? You should wear it like that all the time!” And while I know it’s meant as a compliment, it’s frustrating.
Thank you… I know my hair is nice. I love it. But just because I choose to wear protective styles doesn’t mean I hate myself or my hair. There’s this narrative that if you straighten your hair or wear weaves you’re rejecting your Blackness. It’s kind of outdated and oppressive at our big age. Yes, I am not my hair (thank you, India Arie) but let’s not dismiss the fact that how I care for myself is deeply tied to how I feel. Choosing to pour into myself, whether through a fro, a fresh set of braids, or some bomb bundles, is a radical act of self-love.
My hair care choices are about me and what works for my life, my time, and my energy. I’m not rejecting my identity; I’m embracing the freedom to express myself however I want. I totally understand the origin of that narrative but for many people that isn’t their story.
The act of choosing how we present ourselves—our hair, our clothes, our vibe—is an act of reclaiming autonomy. For Black women, this is particularly powerful because society has long dictated how we “should” look to be acceptable, professional, or attractive. As a first-gen woman, I grew up understanding that how you’re perceived matters. My mom, who rocked locs and was basically ready to fight a revolution at any moment, told me to make sure I was “put together.” I was taught to prioritize how I am perceived because success depends on it.
It’s an unfair reality. We shouldn’t have to overcompensate or prove ourselves through how we look. But the truth is, how we present ourselves does impact how we’re treated. Instead of letting that reality define me, I’ve decided to reclaim it. I define my identity, not anyone else. This choice is not just about aesthetics; it’s about rejecting the oppressive beauty standards that have policed Black hair for centuries. It’s about saying, I am enough exactly as I am—and I deserve to feel good about myself.
When I look good, I feel good. I’m not dressing or styling my hair for anyone else’s standards; I’m doing it for me. It’s about aligning how I feel on the inside with how I show up on the outside.
Vanity can be Liberating
If we internalize the narrative that we’re “too vain” for caring about our looks or that wearing weave means we’re ashamed of our Blackness, we’re limiting ourselves.
I’m here to rewrite that story. My hair, whether in a bun, box braids, or a weave, doesn’t define my Blackness or my pride. When I choose to care for my hair in the way that feels best for me, I’m asserting my right to joy and freedom. I’m rejecting the idea that I need to fit anyone else’s mold or explain my choices. It’s a part of my self-expression, one that I use to feel confident and centered.
One of my clients recently shared a funny yet powerful thought: “I can’t control everything in my life, but I can control how I show up in the world and I choose not to be ugly.” Taking care of yourself, whether that’s through your hair, your clothes, or your vibe, is about reclaiming what’s yours. It’s not about meeting someone else’s standards; it’s about loving yourself unapologetically.
To my clients who share this journey with me: I see you. I understand the weight of these expectations because I’ve carried them too. My goal is to create a space where you feel safe, seen, and validated. A space where you can explore what self-care means to you and reclaim it as a tool for your own liberation.
For the Girls Who Get It
This is for the girls who were told, “This ain’t no fashion show,” for putting on lip gloss in class. For the ones who’ve canceled plans because their hair wasn’t done. For the ones who’ve been made to feel shallow for caring about their appearance.
You are allowed to care about how you look. You’re allowed to pour into yourself unapologetically. Self-care isn’t about vanity; it’s about showing up for yourself in the ways that matter most to you.
So book the appointment, buy the gloss, and rock whatever style makes you feel like your best self. And when you do? Do that shit well.
What’s Your Take?
Have you experienced hair depression or felt judged for how your vanity choices? How do you reclaim your self-care? Let’s talk! I’d love to hear how you’re showing up for yourself.
Practical Tools and Guides
Hair Care Planner: My Self Care Planner is on sale! Get it here for $6.
Myavana AI
An app that offers personalized hair care advice based on your specific hair type and goals.
Books
“Twisted: The Tangled History of Black Hair Culture” by Emma Dabiri
“You Are Your Best Thing” by Tarana Burke and Brené Brown
“The Little Book of Self-Care for Black Women” by Oludara Adeeyo
