Jump to Main ContentJump to Primary Navigation

How An Hour With A Trichologist Changed My Life

At 14, I had my first relaxer. Accidentally.

After years of seeing straight hair sweeping across the playground, I finally broke my mother down with my relentless begging. She compromised and said that I could get a texturiser to loosen my tight 4c curls. The overbooked and underskilled hairdresser we trusted with my transition, however, mistakenly lined my scalp with a super strength relaxer.

This officially began my tumultuous battle with my haircare before I’d even fully reached puberty. By 18 years old, my edges were thinning, and the full perimeter of my hair had completely broken off.

2011 was the year I was forced to buy my first wig to help grow my hair back. With the relaxer leaving nothing but scraps on my scalp, I had no choice. The solution I thought would save me, merely dragged me into an addiction that controlled my beauty standards and drained my bank account for over eight years. With my edges now smooth, my natural hair dry and frayed, and absolutely no awareness of how to care for my natural hair. I had no choice but to cut it all off.