Current mood:
contemplative
contemplativeMy Hair
My mind is a blaze of thoughts. I can't seem to follow one train of thought all the way through, but here goes-
My hair tells its own story.
Tight curls woven on my head like millions of coiled snakes waiting to strike.
From the time I was a child, it's the first thing people would notice about me.
The judgements, the cold shoulders, the strange passing glances, the dark squinty eyed stares.
All because my hair.
Half breed, mutt, mixed, mayate, mojada, dirty fish eating kanaka...oh so many names.
This isn't the only story my hair tells about me.
It also tells of the Hawai'ian woman raising 12 kids in the mountains of Maui.
Of her struggles to provide for her family meshing ancient ways, old traditions, and ceremony with imposed christian beliefs.
It tells the story of another woman on the other side of the world. A Mexican woman- proud, strong, faithful, mestiza. Caring for her family, instilling strong traditions, cultural pride, catholic beliefs. They both did all that was needed to insure the the survival of their children and the children to come.
My hair tells their stories and the stories of all my ancestors- Hawai'ian, Samoan, Mexican, Spanish. Of courageous, strong, proud people.
My hair tells the story of me.
So when you see my hair, don't assume you know who I am or what I am.
My hair can tell its own story.
Marissa Hokulani Kamamalu Gibson 2006
My hair tells its own story.
Tight curls woven on my head like millions of coiled snakes waiting to strike.
From the time I was a child, it's the first thing people would notice about me.
The judgements, the cold shoulders, the strange passing glances, the dark squinty eyed stares.
All because my hair.
Half breed, mutt, mixed, mayate, mojada, dirty fish eating kanaka...oh so many names.
This isn't the only story my hair tells about me.
It also tells of the Hawai'ian woman raising 12 kids in the mountains of Maui.
Of her struggles to provide for her family meshing ancient ways, old traditions, and ceremony with imposed christian beliefs.
It tells the story of another woman on the other side of the world. A Mexican woman- proud, strong, faithful, mestiza. Caring for her family, instilling strong traditions, cultural pride, catholic beliefs. They both did all that was needed to insure the the survival of their children and the children to come.
My hair tells their stories and the stories of all my ancestors- Hawai'ian, Samoan, Mexican, Spanish. Of courageous, strong, proud people.
My hair tells the story of me.
So when you see my hair, don't assume you know who I am or what I am.
My hair can tell its own story.
Marissa Hokulani Kamamalu Gibson 2006
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