Tag Archives: Reflection

On My Mind

Being Curly

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Me! A happy, curly-haired person.
Me! A happy, curly-haired person.

I am a naturally curly-haired person, which means I constantly field the question, “Do you ever straighten your hair? It would look so pretty!” What exactly are you insinuating with said question, new acquaintance?

The honest answer is, “No. I actually really love my curly hair.” And that’s the truth. Granted, I don’t love it all the time; I don’t love it in the rain, I don’t love it in humidity, I don’t love it when it doesn’t cooperate, but I’d always rather be curly than straight. (And let’s be honest, who has good hair in humidity?) My hair was curly when I was a baby, got straighter as I grew up, and curled again when I was about 12. Gotta love raging pre-teen hormones.

I’m moving to a very humid climate on Thursday, and I haven’t straightened my hair in nearly 3 years. I have only gone to work once with straight hair; it was during my first year teaching and a brutally honest coworker and friend later told me to never, ever do that again. “You look young enough,” she said. “We like curly-haired Becca better.” (A guy I was quasi-interested in at the time LOVED my hair straight, though.) Anyway, I figured now was a good time to demonstrate, once and for all, that I do in fact look better with curly hair. And my coworker is right – I already look young for my age, and straight hair only exacerbates that insecurity.

What my curls looked like after a VERY hot day at around 6pm
What my curls looked like after a VERY hot day at around 6pm
What I actually look like
What I actually look like

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The above photos are from a pretty average curly day in the summer. It was about 80° Fahrenheit and I’d spent a lot of time outside. I don’t love my hair in these photos, but I’ve got to be honest, it probably looks like that more often than I’d like to think. I really don’t mind that it’s uneven at the bottom. My hair grows painfully slowly (I haven’t cut it in at least 2 years) so any unraveling, unruly curl that makes it look longer is fine with me.

This is what I look like 5 minutes after straightening my hair
This is what I look like 5 minutes after straightening my hair
Apparently it curves to the right. And needs a trim. Who knew?
Apparently it curves to the right. And needs a trim. Who knew?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I think I look like I’m 12 with straight hair. And I think I look like I’m 14 regularly, so 12 is a bit of a blow. I am astonished, though, at how long my hair is. I had no idea! As my former roommate used to say, my hair grows “out, not down.” Looks like she was right. If I straightened it regularly, I’d definitely need a trim because the bottom looks a little sad.

My students have always bugged me about why I don’t straighten my hair. Last year I told my 76 freshmen that if they all earned an A on their next essay, I’d come to work with straight hair. We all knew that wasn’t going to happen. They told me I’d be their favorite teacher forever if I straightened my hair for the last day of school. My response to that was, “This hair? In June’s humidity? Are you out of your mind?” (So now I’ve straightened it in August and that’s clearly a much better idea.)

The moral of the story is, I don’t straighten my hair. I happen to like my curls. The end.

On My Mind

Phone Call

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Yesterday I got a text from my sister asking if I were free to chat. We played phone tag a couple weeks ago and the game faded before we actually connected. I called my sister immediately after receiving her message and she picked up the phone, laughing. “You didn’t need to call right away,” she said.

Actually, I did. I love my sister to death, but she doesn’t know that because her communication with our family has been so erratic since she started college, we have an unspoken policy of dropping everything to talk to her when she decides it’s a good time. My mother, who normally goes to bed by 11:30, has been on the phone with my sister well past midnight if that’s when my sister calls. My father, who normally rushes around from meeting to meeting, will postpone everything related to work to call her back. So even though I’d just walked into the house and was halfway upstairs to say hi to my roommate who was working from home, I paused my hello, went back down the stairs, and called my sister.

We had a long, lovely chat and I was glad that we did. It was good to catch up with her, and to learn that she’ll be home for a week at the beginning of June. She’s preparing to spend a year in Spain and I’m preparing to spend two in Malaysia, so we commiserated about the difficulties of getting paperwork in order and applying for visas. Now that she’s done with college, we also talked about her studying for the GREs, summer research with a professor, and her first date with someone outside her peer group. Life really does start to happen in a totally different way after college, and it was refreshing to talk about that with my sister. I do enjoy living vicariously through her tales of concerts, parties, and get-togethers (she is a much cooler, bolder, more exciting person that I ever was) but interacting with her as an adult is a nice change. We’re both getting ready for adventures abroad and I’m glad to share that experience with her.

As they say, “I smile because you’re my sister and I laugh because there’s nothing you can do about it.”

On My Mind

Soapbox

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There’s a great deal of value in doing what is right simply for that – because it’s right. I’m lucky enough to teach at a school in which my students, for the most part, do the right thing. Maybe that’s because it’s a single-sex environment, maybe that’s because it’s a parochial environment, or maybe that’s because most people, when push comes to shove, understand the difference between right and wrong. I have to believe that most people, when faced with something bad, will try to do good.

However, I also know that that’s not always the case. I understand that doing the right thing sometimes means putting oneself or one’s family in danger, and I don’t advocate for that. For example, during the Holocaust, the people who rescued the most Jews (hid them, made fake passports, smuggled them across borders, etc.) were young, single men. Why? No families. No dependents. Fewer worries.

I do not blame those who don’t speak out for fear of very well repercussions. I do blame those who actively try to make others miserable in any situation.

But again, I have to hope that there’s more good in this world than bad. There’s an excellent BuzzFeed article (linked below) from January 2012 that I read, cried over, laughed at, and bookmarked. I look at it every now and then. I cry. I laugh. In a world filled with conflict, hate, poverty, and fear, it’s nice to remember that there’s also hope and love and compassion.