I have a mane that is the result of a mother with pre-pregnancy curls and a father with what might only be described as a JewFro. He brushes his hair with a pick, so is it any wonder that my hair begins to lock after about four days?

Most any hair or beauty “specialist” will talk about eliminating the frizz and most people will say, “Oh your hair looks so good straight.” Some will not comment further and others will be like, “well, you know, I mean it’s nice curly too, but, this is just different…” But, things hit a new level when someone said, “You used to look like a gypsy.” I tried not to take offense, but I guess this post means I did! Disclaimer: being a gypsy isn’t a bad thing. I know. They probably don’t have mortgages, credit card debt or the concern about saving for retirement, right? But the connotation in society is a negative one, which is why I didn’t think I was getting a compliment.

That was the low point of comments on the transformation to straight hair from the hairstyle that apparently, 360 days out of the year, makes me look like an uncivilized gitano from the southlands. When did society decide that fat=ugly and curly=unpolished? That frizz is evil and straight and shiny is beautiful?

Hair is hardly the launching pad for a career in race relations, international affairs and/or economic development in emerging markets, but was I not the proud owner of a mess of tight curls, a halo of frizz, I might never have identified equally with women of color as I do with those that share my skin color: peach. Really, as my dad reminded me, we’re not white, we’re peach. But I digress.

One social experiment that proves the majority of folks think straight equals beautiful is the dating website photo. Place a picture with curly hair and you get few responses. One of the same woman with straight hair is posted and far more view you and initiative conversation. All of this explains why I’m a magnet for Indian, Latino and black men, because the latter two were likely raised with women who had equally nappy hair.

The irony is that we have somehow attached a negative connotation to the word nappy. Even more ironic is the fact that white people openly get extensions now, and that is somehow not frowned up by mainstream society. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with my thick frizzy curls but apparently they are an evil that can be quelled with weekly 30-minute masks. Just one half hour a week and I too can have slick shiny hair. Oh thank god because I can’t take another day looking like a gypsy—how did I ever survive 31 years! And here I was thinking nappy was just another name for a diaper.

The complication of this type of hair is the dryness and the scalp issues. Like combination skin that requires oil control in the T-zone and moisture elsewhere, curly hair requires neem, rosemary or salicylic acid-like ingredients to quell scalp dryness and flaking, but intense moisture on the tresses, to seal the cuticles and cut frizz and breakage.

When you have a head of hair that people dub nappy or unruly, which is always dry, you avoid the hair salon because inevitably during the session, the hair stylist that just minutes earlier claimed to “love all hair” will let out a long sigh or groan when the gobs of conditioner and leave-in spray fail to eliminate all of the knots. And then they will condescendingly give you instructions, after grilling you on your regimen, the products in your shower and your haircare methodology. They will tell you to moisturize and use masks, because of course that never occurred to you before, right? And they will continue to bombard with you with near criticism so you will buy heaps of product.

The truth is, I should go to the Latinas or the black women. Puerto Rican and Dominican women understand course hair and how to deal with it. The people will not attempt to belittle your hair and turn you into something you are not. And that’s where the identity struggle comes into play with one’s hair.

The other side might argue that when my hair is straight and simpler, the focus is on me, not my hair. But I feel people should accept the frizz and volume for what it is, different, not better or worse. Gypsy or not. This seems to me, not an issue of ease or manageability, but another case of society convincing people that that which is different must be conformed. Tame and conform. I say, the occasional blow-out is a nice treat, but in this case, reality doesn’t bite.

Before Chris Rock’s Good Hair, there was My Nappy Roots by Regina Kimbell. If you ever doubted hair has a place in sociology and anthropology studies, you need to see both documentaries.

For a woman with curly hair, acquiescing  to straightening is perceived as selling out–not by others, but by oneself. I think part of who I am is the the kinky mane I was born with, before curly hair salons, before silicon-heavy frizz reduction products, before the ceramic irons that at 500-degree heat can make many hair types straight. But the truth is, when you get home, very few items work on the type of hair that naturally wants to matte and lock. Most of the time, all I’m left with is a few good hair days and many frustrating days of frizz and knots. However, to date, the only at-home product that brought me close to having it both ways is the TV-touted InStyler.

Long advertised on TV, just one use caused my cousin to run to Target to buy her own InStyler, the best way someone with curly or straight hair can emulate a salon blow dry, on the cheap. For me, with kinky curls, courtesy of my dad’s hair, once a sky-high afro, I’ve continued to search for haircare items that keep the curls loose, because that’s the best time to use the InStyler.

To use the InStyler, once hair is dry, just section hair off and run it through the system, which combines a brush and a rolling heat-activated piece to straighten hair while detangling. Though the system, which appears to be the model after which Paris Hilton based her new Celebrity Styler, takes a bit to get used to, it is easier and faster than any other attempt to calm a full-body curly hair mane. In regards to the personal dilemma, I had one woman’s quote to thank for rethinking the curly versus straight dilemma. After getting her hair relaxed, this African American woman told Allure that while she always thought getting her hair straightened would be giving up part of her self, it ended up allowing people to see her, not her hair. I couldn’t say it better, even though I went a different route. I gave up the straightening, relaxing, thinning, and all that chemical mess years ago, and thanks to one product, the InStyler, I’ve resisted the temptation to relapse.

While you can order it online, your local Target is likely to stock the InStyler.

ProSilk surprised us, proving that with the right machinery, even the tightest curls can take a breather. Until recently, thinning, straightening, and blow drying hair were the go-to processes to produce a straight do, though time-consuming and with damage done. But, an open mind led to us test ProSilk’s Golden Flat Iron, a fairly compact device that heats up to 435 degrees in seven seconds, to create smooth hair, thanks to Ceramic Disperson Technology.

To straighten a thick head of curly hair, we separated it into multiple sections, one day after washing. Starting with the looser curls, we patiently attacked each section. Slow and steady, with a hefty amount of heat, the iron transformed curls into waves and then into straight pieces of hair, allowing for a variety of options. Still, while the iron produced a relaxed do, it did take a fair amount of time to produce a polished look. However, we’re sure that if it works on kinky locks, it will work great on straight hair, offering a tool for special occasions and quick touch-ups.

Where:
The ProSilk Golden Flat Iron costs $79.95. For more information or to find retail locations, visit the ProSilk website.