To the girls that always want to touch my hair:

“Can I touch your hair?” is a question you ask too often.

You look at my hair as if you’ve never seen such a sight...

I ignore you.

Then you ask again, “Can I touch your hair?”

Sometimes I say yes, (although I always want to say no.)

I really want you to know…

That it takes me an ENTIRE weekend to wash and deep condition my hair…

Part it in sections...

While looking at my reflection.

I say yes because I don't want to be that “mad black girl” (that you already think I am.)

Oh, you thought I didn't know? But, I do.

I know what you think about me.

Whenever I feel like my character is being questioned I defend myself and that intimidates you.

You think it's cool until the person on the other end of my wrath is you.

Your ignorance annoys me and this is why my sassy disapproval is always directed towards you.

“Can I touch your hair?”

You ask again the very next day. As if the texture changes overnight...

I should make you pay for every time you ask that stupid question.

Oh, and I have to mention...

The result of a no escaping the jail cells of my lips.

There will be tension in the air

If I dare...

To say it.

But sometimes it slips,

“No.”

You cannot…

Touch my hair.