What I have done is allowed myself to be free from my own mental constraints, allowed myself to see that a man who would only date me if I wore my hair a certain way is someone who would only ever see me as a one-dimensional shadow of myself.Not to say that men who like natural hair are all wonderful because hey, a douche by any other name.., but it is to say that we are not our hair.Sometimes it feels like New York is home to as many dating apps as people.Apps take all sorts of different approaches to helping you find love — or whatever it is you’re looking for.Du skal bare oprette en gratis profil, og du kan allerede i dag, komme i gang med at browse, mellem de tusinde af profiler, der findes på afro dating.
'Well, you can go natural, you're married afterall', from a near and dear. 'You look like Mungiki, your husband will leave you', from Bibi. Recently, a friend's Facebook status surprised me when he talked about how chuffed he was to attend a wedding in Uganda to find they all had natural hair.
If a man won't date you because you have natural hair, consider it a bullet dodged.
If you're scared to take the plunge and go natural because you're afraid you'll slip and fall in the bathroom and nobody will find your body before your cat has eaten your eyelids all because your hair made you undateable, take a long hard look at the type of energy you're putting out there, because that's the type of energy you'll be bringing home to meet your parents.
Last night I bumped into someone I hadn't seen for years and the first words out of her mouth were 'OMG! It was one of those situations where you think of a witty retort in the middle of the night but at the time I just mumbled something lame about the new natural me. I can understand her reaction though, because I was the last person I would have expected to go natural. So I dated wearing my hair straight, got married in a weave and honeymooned in braids, but once my husband was lulled into a sense of blissful predictability, kablam! I'm not some kind of natural-hair warrior, blazing a trail for women to break free from the shackles of weavepression.
And not in a 'Wow, you look awesome' kind of way, more like a 'Somebody call 911' kind of way. The kind with a bull ring through the nose who's idea of a first date is attending a march to save the habitat of the longhorn beetle, who eats hummus for breakfast and has an ironic tattoo in Sanskrit that should read 'God is a comedian playing to an audience too afraid to laugh' but actually reads 'Dog is a comedy play; laugh'. It was more like that sneeze that builds up in the back of your nose for ages only to come out as a loud fart, surprising everyone, including the sneezer. We run ourselves ragged bleaching our skin and frying our hair only to turn around and point accusing fingers at how shallow men are for not accepting us for who we really are.