Genre: Contemporary
I am not my hair. My hair is unruly, it grows wild, long and free. I am not my hair but my hair is a part of me.
My hair speaks volumes without me ever saying a word. Judging by the length of my hair, you can tell that I have not been arrested in a long time (they cut your hair when you go to jail, so I have been told) So by the length of my hair you can tell I am a law abiding citizen or maybe I am just really good at never being caught.
My hair is the length it is, not by design, but simply because I stopped going to the barber every other week, curious to see how long it would go. It grew to become too difficult to comb out the kinks in my hair so I let it grow into locks.
I am not a Rastafarian but people call me Rasta. I walk in the street and random people stop me just to say “Hi Rasta” like we are old friends, we shake hands and they say “Jah Bless” like we belong to some secret society. They tell me stories about how they are Rastas too, on the inside, even if their hair won’t grow to be like mine and sing that song by Morgan Heritage Family, you do not have to have dreadlocks to be Rasta.
I am not my hair but less than half of half the people who think they know me would not recognize me if I cut my hair, how can they, when they hardly know my name they just call me Rasta.
Imagine a random person walking up to you and asking you if you can hook them up with a cigarette or asking for matches or simply passing you a blunt and walking away no other words spoken, that happens every other day to me. Sometimes I walk with matches because it is easier to just give someone a light then a lengthy explanation why you do have matches and they still walk away thinking you simply refused.
Some call me Dread because of hair. I read that one of the origins of the word Dread referring to Dreadlocks is that the hairstyle was thought to be dreadful. I have long since discovered that the term Dread is one of respect, Dread also means Fear of the Lord. The Fear of God is the beginning of all wisdom so I rather like this definition of Dread, there is nothing dreadful about it.
I am not my hair but people make assumptions about me from my hair some good some not so good, but I can tell you from my hair you can tell that I I can stick with things for a long time, I guess I am a keeper .
From when my hair was awkward like this…. When everyone kept asking me when I would cut it
to here
I am not my hair,
I am not this skin
I am not your expectations
I am a soul that lives within
What does your hair say about you?
~B
My #BlogBattle entry themed Hair….
P.S. it is definitely shoulder length right??
Becoming The Muse 
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