Accidental Freedom
I thought I was free. Until the day I accidentally decided to be truly so.
This happened on a day I stood in the mirror trying to figure out what to do with the many strands of hair that didn’t want to cooperate. They were rebels, I tell you! Well, since they are intent on being so unruly, I think, I’ll just cut them off! I grab a pair of scissors and start snip, snip, snipping away at the long, loose strands, that refuse to do anything except fall flat on my face, until…every. single. one of them. were. HISTORY.
I lay the scissors down. Exhale. Stare at the finished product: Short. Curly. Obedient. Hair.
“WHAAAAATTTTTT??? HAVE I DONE?!” booms throughout my WHOLE self. Little did I realize as I was snipping away the rebellious strands, that I was removing all traces of my previously permed hair. Hair I’d trained and tamed since I was fourteen years old. Gone was the possibility of hearing for the thousandth time how much I looked like Halle Berry. (LOL!!!). Gone was that sharp, conservative, corporate look I defined myself by. IT WAS GONE. DO YOU FEEL ME? Are you getting the horror that quickly replaced the feeling of accomplishment I had for a mere three seconds? I HAD TO GO OUT! OUTSIDE!!!! of my small, safe, bathroom, with short. curly. obedient. hair. God help me.
Questions loomed from every direction. What will Daniel (my husband think?) My daughters will love it, that’s for sure. They’d been telling me to go natural for years – to which I always vehemently replied – I can’t do that!!! Oh my, there’s church tomorrow???!!! Oh Lord, help me! And work on Monday? And the rest of the family? What will people think??? Say??? There I stood – chained to the opinions of others who would see, comment on, and judge, my short. curly. obedient. hair. Which, I slowly, began to like, love, accept. Love. Couldn’t take my eyes off of.
I stared at my hair until I saw something I hadn’t seen in almost forty years. Me. A chocolate-complexioned woman of African-American descent with every physical feature intentionally gifted by The Creator of the universe. Then, I heard the cling of shackles crash to the floor. “It was for freedom that Christ set us free; therefore keep standing firm and do not be subject again to a yoke of slavery,” fluttered in my heart. I walked away from the mirror, ready to face the world as a free woman, no matter how upset it might make some others.
Some were indeed dismayed, made underhanded jokes, refused to speak or look at me, removed my access to influential circles, showed their disapproval with raised eyebrows and hand over-mouth shock. Others looked into my eyes and spoke. “Your hair. Is so beautiful.” “No other style you’ve ever worn compares to this.” “Look at you!” “Have I told you how much I love your hair?” I felt, in the hugs of some, a desire too, to be free. Being uncomfortable, or worse, disliking our (or others’) God-given physical traits is a weighty ransom to pay for worldly acceptance and its false promise of security.
Freedom too, is costly. It cost Jesus. It will cost us. I had to give up believing my present and future is in the hands of anyone except God. I had to give up the burden of being enslaved to opinions of those I believed could influence my standard of living. Living free means choosing who I live to trust, please and obey. “Behold, obedience is better than sacrifice, and attentiveness is better than the fat of rams.” Every day, I choose to obey God. I choose to believe that my short. curly. obedient. hair., and every other physical feature – is a spectacular gift from God.
May whatever chains still have you bound today, be loosed so that you can walk in the freedom Jesus Christ died for you to have.
Happy freedom day today, and every day!
