Sonia says…we get old. Sonia says…we change. Sonia says…it is inevitable. What comes to mind when I read this piece by Birmingham, AL native (like me), Sonia Sanchez, is a retrospect of my own life. As funny as it sounds, I chronicle the seasons of my life according to my body size, my hair, and the music that’s out. So often we, as humans, find ourselves pining over days past. We want that old thang back, as Jay-Z would proclaim. We get hair extensions, go on diet after diet, stoke old flames long burnt out, and do whatever else is needed to encapsulate the relics of our youth and the moments that we never want to end. But, change is inevitable, and resisting it is like one trying to clutch water or hold on to smoke - futile. I’m not going to lie, I miss the days of wearing a big afro, fitting into a size six anything, not having any hip pains, running trails and lifting weights three or four times a week, performing, having my mother around, and being motivated and unafraid. Now some of these things I can’t control and I have to grow to accept that their season is no more. Everything else…I’m working on it. Check this though: what happens when a change or loss is tied to one’s identity? Case in point…my hair.

As I mentioned previously, I wore a big afro at the start of my music career. However, stress and age took a toll and I had to let go of my fluffy tresses in exchange for what became my signature short style. I adapted to the new normal and this hairstyle quickly became a part of my artistic persona. Not only did this style represent my brand, it was my brand. Some of the promo photos of me rocking my ramp (as I called it) circulated around the internet and one of them even ended up as the thumbnail on a Pinterest post about short, natural hairstyles for Black women. Sucks that the majority of the people who saw the photo never knew my identity, but that’s beside the point. The ramp was synonymous with everything Fayth Hope, and I grew a strong attachment to it…and that was my folly. I was so attached to my hair that when, once again, I started to lose it to stress and age (plus a bad hair color job…tuh [rolls eyes]), I went into mourning. There were so many days when I cried about the fact that my hair was thinning and no longer looked the way it did previously. My frustrations grew to the point where I decided to do a big chop and start over. Although my hair’s condition has improved, there are still problem areas that prevent it from returning to its former glory. This has been a hard pill to swallow (a horse pill at that), but I know that I have to kiss my signature ramp goodbye. Like Sister Sanchez said, I am tired of it all: the constant wishing for what was, the incessant primping in an attempt to make it look like it once did, and the grief I feel from doing these things. Yeah, I’m ready to let the leaves fall and make room for the beauty that will spring forth in its place. I still don’t necessarily know what the next leg of my journey will look like. What I know is this though…I’m going to make it do what it do and look fly while doing it. And I’m not just talking about with hair, I’m talking about in LIFE.

Cheers to those of you who are dealing with similar issues, be it with your hair, your body, or other personal losses. Let’s make a vow to not just make do, but to make it do what it do in ‘22. One luv.