Why I’m Getting My Hair Wet This Summer
As a Black girl, I was told I couldn’t swim. That was a lie.
We’re in the last stages of summer, and I want nothing more than to submerge myself in a body of water. I want to swim laps in a pool. I want to feel ocean waves pass over me.
And I do not care about my hair getting wet.
This new love of water is a far cry from where I used to be. I was told I couldn’t swim emphatically and repeatedly by a protective grandmother as a child. She saw the water as an enemy of her laborious efforts in straightening my hair and a threat to my very life.
I was enrolled in swimming lessons very young, back in the days when my hair was unpressed and frequently braided. While my memories of those days are few and far between (save for the white boy named Ben who pushed me into a pool), my body retained most of what I learned during that time. I’ve known how to get myself from Point A to Point B in water by propelling my arms and kicking my legs from a young age.
For most of my life, I didn’t think that counted as swimming.
“You need to learn how to really swim.” That’s what I was told. Whatever I thought I knew how to do, it didn’t qualify as swimming, and it wasn’t good enough to keep me safe. I internalized this early and…
