What they don't tell you about getting your first weave

by Jade Kebbie

Ah yes, Pocahontas. The fabled Native American princess whose hair is apparently the envy of every Black woman in the land... I flick my weave back over my shoulder and for a moment it catches the breeze and flows in the wind like the hair of the White people.

I enjoy the feeling of being an Indian princess for but a moment before the sensation of tugging on my hairline and the heat on my head becomes unbearable. I have just travelled over 12 hours in my first ever weave and I am so uncomfortable. The good news? I can drink myself silly on the plane and I'll forget about the pain. 

I had no idea it would be like this. I've been told that the first few days are the most painful but it's the second day and I want to rip this fake hair off. Imagine having to wear a too-tight motorcycle helmet for the longest time whilst it presses your head in all directions. That's what I'm going through right now. The only thing successfully keeping me from ripping my hair off of my head is the fact that I can't, it's a sew-in. 

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not a wimp, nor particularly sensitive when it comes to my scalp but this was never to be "espe'rred." The number of women I know who wear weaves and rock them without even a hint of anguish had betrayed me. No one warned me. I know that the closure is the main thing to blame. Slipping further and further back as I keep sitting on my hair it goes from looking amazing to being able to tell it's a weave pretty quickly. It was almost forgivable, after all, my hair is slippery; if only I didn't have to keep brushing it all the time, it's like every time I'd move the tracks would threaten to show up. As a normally natural, curly-haired person I can't lie that the appeal of not having to straighten my hair or wet it in the morning was the main prompt in getting the weave. That and the idea of finally being able to try out a different hair colour without damage. After all, a weave is meant to be a protective style and why not protect my hair? All seemingly great logic and easy to understand, but what about the fact that we live in Africa and it's too hot to wear a woolly hat all day - much less an extra layer of scalp fur? 

I scratch and medicate with my wine and pull my hairline forward for about three days before I begin to feel it loosening. Like a creatures mouth wrapped around my head, it's maw slowly begins to loosen and having made the change from hot and sweltering Nigeria to cool and windy Grahamstown, the woolly hat begins to feel like it can do its job of bodyguarding my natural hair until it comes off. The closure still bothers me though and so I realise that the next time I get a sew-in I might only do the tracks and leave the hairline out like I've seen some women do.