In Mexico while eating some late night tacos, the staff are in awe with my hair. They asked me how I got "joyas" in there. They ask to touch... others' in the city just have extended stares. Some natives at the club whisper in my ear that they love my hair, as I whip it to the beat. It is all an extension of me.

Everyday I look into the mirror and I am pleased. The younger me who over explained to my family the beauty I see in locs, now wears it boldly. The same people who told me they “just don't care for dreads on women”... love it on me.

*Happy Birthday to my Locs as she grows as thick and wild JUST like me!*

I started a new journey along with my Saturn Return. We don't take enough advantage of our rebirth. And I've been dying to grow into someone new. Desiring to be since I was a child who would spend time in the magazine aisle of Publix or Walgreens flipping in and out of pages of Hype Hair. Finding myself more fond of the back section dedicated to natural hair. It's crazy how much we put ourselves in the back, but I digress.

Moments of my younger self so fascinated by the way kinky hair can intertwine within itself AND THEN be styled. I always saw it as a super power. So 4 years ago I decided to go full form and lock my hair.

"They call me CleoLoctra /
My beauty is a mantra.
Praying to my to my ancestors / See you in Nirvana."

- Hot Girl Rez

Things I learned while growing my locs

Choose you. Be You.

Honestly, this is my second set. My first attempt to locing my hair was a month after my 30th birthday. I went to a place in Brooklyn where I requested coils and was placed under duress to get 2-strand twist. When I left my hair had the most spacious parts. Folks on the internet could see they were cosmos away.

The thing is I always get paralysis when I'm in the chair. I feel like I lose control when trying to speak up for myself the moment someone else is fixing my crown. I tried to say something, but even the wash girl (the stylist daughter) told me to trust her mom.

Locs are what you chose them to be. And in this 21st century of creativity, you can grow them, cut them, and then reattach them. You can perm your edges and braid your locs down, then glue a quick weave on top. It is just hair. And that bogus stylist kept saying that as she persuaded me to trust her biased judgment.

So, in my new skin I definitely told this woman about herself. What sense did it make to drop almost $200 on stand-twists with the worst parts ever?? And like most hair salon experiences once you walk-out the shop, the purchase is final... although you're the customer and the product...

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Regardless, with this new level of maturity I now understand I am the owner of my story. I have the power to change and start over whenever I want because I am magical. So less than 6 weeks later while being baptized on the beaches of Aruba, I took them 2-strand twists right out.

A few months later on a cold February weekend I drove my ass to Washington DC and went to see Autumn, my FAMU sis who got me right. Just how I wanted and just how I liked it. A few hours later I had 66 locies. Too soft to automatically stick together, too long to challenge gravity, but I was content! Filled with gratitude to have a new due to match my new skin and start a new journey just how I wanted.

2. Be Picky

I don't let anyone touch my hair. I would rather retwist it myself... even if it’s in the wrong direction. I've been more choosy on who I allow to touch my crown. Too many scary moments in the past when I had a lack of autonomy over what grows out of MY scalp. Submitting to my mom or the stylists she chooses at the salon. Dealing with cousins who do hair, but would never prioritize me. I’m over it now that I have locs… Like frfr, I must like your energy or it won't get done. You only have one chance to do it right or you'll never see me again. I never loc'd my hair to remain neat... I go months without seeing my scalp, just roots and legacy and that's more than fine with me.

3. Time

I haven’t had a chance to give my hair a proper shoutout because time be moving so damn fast. First, she was at my ear and the budding phase had me looking like a mop from time to time. After her first birthday I colored her midnight blue... I know.... what a reach... she ended up honey blonde due to a lack of purple shampoo. Hints of Oshun ombréd into my hair and now I have no desire to color correct it.

Then she started touching my shoulders. Shook at night thinking something was crawling on me... and it's just ME! Styling went from doing nothing to.... do you have a scrunchie?? And now, we're a few centimeters away from my locies being its own hair tie. The power of kinky hair, its ability to be wrapped around itself, tucked into itself AND hold lineage.

4. Enjoy the Journey

I don’t believe in your locs having an ugly phase. That’s just sneak dissing yourself. I don’t believe your hair can be dreadful. That’s also trying your own set. I do believe the only thing that’s constant in life is change, AND THAT’S even more reasons to love the journey as is. In a gay club in Orlando, this girl vents to me about how she’s struggling with her hair journey and admires mine. Yeah I gave her advice like brush your locs and retwist your hair with castor oil (or lwe masketi IYKYK), but then I urged her to embrace the journey. There’s no final destination. Length comes with the burden of heaviness and the likely hood of sitting on your hair. Thickness can easily get messy AND matted, but the journey is the journey. I love my hair, but some days I don’t like it or neglect it, but I won’t change it for the world… I will only change it to please me on my journey.