I want to reach for your
twists and curls and twirl
them around my fingers

Who convinced who
That curls were “in”
In the years before
I knew to know better?

The smell so strong
Of chemical power
Making my blonde straight strands
Hold the curve of the curlers

Using my pick I kept those locks
Both frothy and fairly formed
Though the pictures of me froze a smile
Inside me the doubt ran deep

Who else has curly hair?
I believe we can all agree it is sometimes a nightmare.
Reducing frizz is rare.
It can be messed up with the air.
Sulfates are a real scare.
Silicones are a compare.
At the end of the day, I don't really care.

There's history in my hair please don't touch, handle with care.
It's the same as this perfect pigment,
this melanin I wear
Richly rooted in my blood
Whether dark or fair

Sun kissed and kinked in bliss
More love for my 'rough n tough Afro puff'
She shines like the Sahara sun
She smells like the salt of the Gold coast sea.
Theres a hint of the bittersweet seed of the cocoa tree.
Feels like the pillow that holds all your dreams with the dry Harmattan wind brushing against your cheek
She'll whisper secrets of the motherland.... If you get close enough

She holds like Mina
Curls with pride
Falls with grace and integrity.
Stubborn like the struggle of the ones before me.
Gravity defying masterpiece that's just a single piece of me, a reminder of my ancestry.
It's my glory, my covering

Don't take it lightly, don't misunderstand, I'm a work of art so please peep but just don't touch.

© Raphaela Israel Öbeñg

At night I dream of
waking up tangled
within the curls of your hair.

[DK]