As humans, it is only natural to put our identity into the things that we love or perhaps even the things that consume our time. Just like a whirlpool, our identity is overtaken by a power that only pushes us under and disables us from taking a true breath of fresh air. Down at the bottom is where we acknowledge how or why or for what reason we got sucked into the drift that took us down in this direction.
You see, when your identity is tied to anything physical, you will automatically be set up to go against the current.
Careers
Fashion
Possessions
Extra curricular activities
Friendships
Business Partnerships
Appearance
Talents
All of these things can be great, but none of these things should identify you completely or wholly or even, for that matter, half-ly.
I have always been a confident person and I don't overly care what others think of me; for the most part, I have no problems in hiding who I am. I have been taught that I can and should walk with my head held high.
I am talented.
I am intelligent.
I am kind.
I am humorous.
I am kind of a big deal.
I am also learning about humility.
However, within the realms of words being words, I have realized a lot of my identity has been encompassed towards outer appearance. Leaving the comforts of a western style toilet and access to running water was hard for me to walk away from, but my fashion, my makeup, and my constant ability to keep up my appearance was even harder. Style for me is not something that is an obsession, it is something that I enjoy, appreciate, and understand.
(Just so we are all on the same page, style and fashion are very different. Fashion is what one wears, style is the way one carries themselves. This goes along with my own favorite saying "Anyone can wear anything, as long as they carry themselves the right way in doing so.")
I have my own style. I am unique. Some might say I am 'urban.' Call it what you want, it is something that I put time into and it is something that makes me feel good. So…what seems to be the problem? Well, although fashion and style and all of that is great, I have put a lot of my identity into the hair on my head. My hair has been every color under the sun and has been 'styled' into anything from a Fauxhawk to a fro, literally.
I love hair.
I love the ability to be able to change it.
I love weave.
I love creativity.
I love being able to express myself through something on my head.
I really really like being blonde.
The past few weeks, I realized how much I relate my hair to my identity. I like what I see when I look into the mirror. When I am blonde, my face appears to be thinner, I don't have to wear as much makeup, and it always stands out in pictures. It has been blonde for 4 years now and I have grown into my hair; it has become me, (if that makes any sense at all). In January of this past year, I decided to cut off 8 inches and not dye my hair but allow it to grow out creating what many like to call the Ombre look. I decided to continue growing the color out while I was living abroad this next year… but the heat, the lack of showering daily, the climate change, and the fact that bleach has suffocated my hair follicles, was anything but healthy on the ends of my hair. My hair was FRIED, DIED, and hardly ALIVE, no exaggeration. There are not many options to choose from when you live in a third world country where you cannot communicate clearly with a hairdresser, so I went to the local market and bought 3 boxes of Dark Cherry dye and decided to rejuvenate my locks that were hanging on for dear life.
This might not seem like such a big deal to some. You might be thinking to yourself "drama." However, putting color on top of something that I genuinely took pride in, was close to arduous.
It was going to be hard.
It was going to cause anxiety.
I might be a little melodramatic.
I might, quite honestly, freak out.
Heaven forbid, I could shed a tear or lots.
My teammate, Mary helped me with this 2 hour process as I instructed her on what to do and how to do it. I know hair; I just can't see the back of my head (unfortunately). Mary comforted me, she conversed with me, she laughed with me, and I know if I would have cried, she would have been willing to lend me her shoulder.
I would like to challenge anyone who reads this to write down the things that correlate to your own identity.
What are these things?
How valuable are they?
Do they consume your time?
Are they things that will merely fade?
I want you to know that the labels on your clothing, who you spend your free time with, the square footage of your house, and the amount on your paycheck truly is not who you are at all and if it is, you might want to try and reestablish yourself a bit. All of those things are great and it is awesome to pursue success, however, the physical things that will remain on this earth after we leave this place, will not be written on your tombstone or spoken at your funeral. The world is better off knowing and having the real you in it. Your identity should be in your heart and it should be found in Christ. This is what people will remember and most importantly, this is how God sees us.
Just like we should not judge a book by it's cover, so we should not judge someone by the hair on their head, especially and I mean ESPECIALLY if it is dead.
I have stepped out of what was to what is.
I am made new.
I have red hair.
I now know that my identity is not my hair, but if it was, I am sure that Lucille Ball would be proud.
Here is a little humorous video of me surprising my teammates with my weave after I dyed it and left it out to hang dry and no, I am not ditching the weave, not yet haha 😉
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