In early Spring, my friend down the street hosted an Easter Egg Hunt for the neighborhood kids at her house. One of the mothers caught my eye because her hair was shorter, curlier and more vibrant looking than I had ever seen it previously.

“Kyle,” I said looking at her neat, glossy twists. “You’re going natural?”

“Oh yes,” she said, he left arm akimbo. “And it’s the best thing I’ve ever done.”

We got into an animated conversation, with me telling her how great her hair looked, and her telling me how freeing it was to be on this new journey. I think the word “journey” pulled another mom into the discussion. In just a few short minutes, us three grown women were standing around in our friend’s kitchen, extolling the virtues and beauty of natural hair. Natural curls were widely under-appreciated, we said, especially by Black women, whose hair is naturally curly. Kyle talked about how great her hair feels to the touch, without being fried and slicked down by straightening chemicals. Ann has a little boy, but she was still interested in talking about her own routine. And there I was, outwardly talking and complementing both of them, inwardly wondering whether I should make that leap once again into wearing natural hair.

Maybe that conversation was a one-off thing, you say. After all, I wore texturized hair for years before going “bone straight” as my stylist called it.

Well, the natural hair trend is not going away for now, and we’re not talking about a bunch of left-leaning, vegan 20-somethings with their hair blogs and YouTube channels, either. During a block party in July, I ran into another neighborhood mom who also sported a natural style. She dons a suit everyday for her job at a Big Four accounting firm. She doesn’t do any kind of chemical or heat straightening on her two beautiful daughters, who are actively involved in sports, and are also naturalistas. What about Melinda and Sharon, my cousins, who also hold professional jobs and rock the curls everyday? Let’s not forget my friends at work, who at turns inspire and infuriate me with how their thick, black, rich hair of different lengths and textures get longer and seemingly healthier everyday. Loads of people are ditching perms and letting their natural hair grow out.

I’m running out of lame excuses, especially at home, and especially now that Hubby is more educated about Black hair. About two months ago, he stopped by the Dominican salon I frequent, just as the stylist was nearing the end of my session. He happened to listen in on a lengthy discussion between me, the stylist, and the owner about the damage that a chemical burn did to my scalp. Then he became Mr. Let’s Look It Up. A few evenings afterward, he researched the harsh chemicals that go into hair straightening creams. He grimaced in abject horror as he described a demonstration of what perming chemicals did to raw meat. He reads the labels on the products I order for Baby. He sometimes watches me as I style her hair and groans when it’s his turn to practice pony-tailing. (Hey, I’m going to have to travel for work again, eventually. He needs to know how.) He once asked me why God gave Black women hair that requires so much work, and talks about how relieved he is that I haven’t permed my hair in a while and have switched to products with natural ingredients.

I was thinking of perming my hair again, just once to cover up all the uneven lengths, tame my new growth and try to correct the drastic shedding and breakage that has been happening for months. But I think it might be a lost cause. There has been a massive profusion of products, styles and management techniques on caring for natural hair in the last three years alone. Not to mention natural hair care shows and exhibits. So I’m going back to natural. Just as soon as I can book an appointment with a stylist who can help me through that first year of growing it out.

In the meantime, I’m passing along word about the World Natural Hair Health & Beauty Show. It’s happening in Atlanta in September. Doubtless, attendees will find enough products, styles and tips to help them stick to their natural care routines. I won’t be able to make it to this one. But who knows: maybe I’ll make it to the next show, whenever that is!

I grew up in a Jamaican Pentecostal church, as I’ve mentioned before. After one particular service, a female minister accosted me, demanding to know why I was wearing extensions and braids. My childhood church was—is, actually— very conservative, and I remember perennial debates over how women should wear their hair. To the female minister, I answered frankly that I braided my hair to manage it more easily, in return she flashed: “Comb whe’ God gi’ you fi’ comb!” An overly simplistic and nonsensical response, to be sure. We didn’t have much to say to each other after that, and the controversy fizzled out.

Well, a lot of Black women are wearing their hair natural these days. Most want to break away from corrosive chemical treatments, and damaging weaves. The discussion about wearing natural hair and styling “what God gave you,” is no longer exclusively church terrain, or that of our ultra-progressive, dread lock wearing, left-leaning sistren. Those of you who are on a hair journey, or contemplating one, might want to check out this article in The New York Times. It’s about African-American bloggers and video bloggers dishing out advice on caring for natural hair. It ran in the newspaper last week. Looks like there might be a few more additions to the blog roll!

Before CurlyNikki, MopTopMaven, Naptural85 or any other hair bloggers came on the scene, the women in my church were passing around this book by Lonnice Brittenum Bonner. You might recall “Good Hair” yourself, or maybe you’ve read Brittenum Bonner’s other books.  She had been a reporter for the Oakland Tribune, but I think being a “hair memoirist” and forerunner to a hip new wave of hair bloggers makes her even more interesting.

As for me, I wear my hair chemically straightened. And I attend a different church, where no one really gives my head a second glance. I still keep in touch with a lot of my friends from my old church, and occasionally visit. But I try to blend quietly into the background and not draw any attention to myself. (Yeah. Good luck with that, with the mixed family and all.) And besides. Considering that the Bible offers no compelling clues or absolute doctrine on this issue—it preferred to admonish adherents to love their wives and parents not to provoke their children to anger—I never jumped on the natural hair movements that occasionally bubbled up at our church. Besides, I really wanted to spend my time writing stories, reading the classics, plotting my route away from home. That sort of thing. So whenever a minister rapped the back of my hand for cutting my hair into a super short boyish style, I politely explain that I chose the cut because it suited my perfectly shaped head. One woman minister glared at me and my braids—judgmentally, I presumed—from the rostrum during a service. I directed my gaze right back at her until she wilted. She’s probably off somewhere with the woman minister I mentioned earlier, the one who tried to jack me up in the pew after a service. Maybe they are praying for me right now.