In this year of 2016, we wore many crowns. As I like to say, we style everything from sole to crown. Your crown doesn't have to be physical piece of metal placed upon your head. Nor does it have to be a cultural headpiece. It can simply be your mane. A lot of women like myself with a definitive style tend to get playful with their hair, as a plays a role in many looks.

The love for hair and beauty is in my genes. My mother is a professional hairstylist with over twenty years of work under her belt. She owns her beauty parlor on Main Street in Matawan, NJ. This is where all of the magic occurs. Stories of childhood memories of me getting my hair done will be discussed further. My eldest sister Viola Dossen is also a licensed beautician just like my mother. She plays a major role in crocheting many of the looks you all will see below. The beauty of hair is that one can chop it off, grow it back, or give the illusion it is au naturale. Well that is the essence of black hair.

As young as I can remember my mother and sister always did my hair. Braids, perms, weaves and more. Who remembers the pressing comb? Sitting in the kitchen with the metal comb heating up on the stove. Better yet washing your hair in the kitchen sink. Even sitting on pillows on the floor as a cushion, as you sat between your mother's knees to do your hair. Late nights and early morning tears. Before my mother opened her physical shop, she did hair at home where the scent of perm and straw set solution, resembling egg salad would flare through the household. Growing up I was the one child that didn't feel beautiful or comfortable when I got my hair done. I always felt ugly as child with my braids. My sisters all brought my mother's luscious, thick, Liberian hair that fell passed their shoulders. My hair never fell passed my neck. It saddened me so much that now I understand this evolution.

During my Highschool years I wore nothing but weaves. I would do box braids once in a while, other than that my mother would spend her almost last just for a couple packs of 18inch human hair. The scent of burnt hair from the flat iron early in the morning would burn five nose hairs. Oh how I detest that scent, to when I smell it on some girls now I'm like they do have sprays and creams that can eliminate such scents. Ugh, even worse the smell of burnt weave in a hot and sweaty party. As edges friz up, the forks and knives in the kitchen are dancing. Wearing weave for me was a hot mess and not the healthiest to my hair journey

It was not until 2014 I decided to get an undercut, shaving the perimeter of my head to only keep a small patch on top. Best decision, I have ever made. I contemplated short styles prior and fear was getting in the way of that. New year new me, January 2014 has brought me many styles in a short matter of time in which kind of changed my life. My mind set, my attitude, and my optimism all changed. I became aware of self and understanding that I am not my hair has impacted me greatly. Arguing with my Liberian mother that my hair will grow back was something "that was not for fun (Liberian Sayings)."

This year I have tried every look I said I wouldn't and I have fell in love with what I know will be my staple hairstyles. Someone told me recently that my hair will be my claim to fame. "My hair is my golden ticket." I laugh because in reality many of these social media "famous" girls are known for their hairstyle. I believe I serve up proper looks with my diverse range of styles. However I stay in the natural realm, as I try to steer away from weaves.