How I Stopped Straightening My Identity: Embracing the Curls God Gave Me

I didn’t plan on falling in love with my curls. In fact, I spent a life time fighting them—flat-ironing, chemically straightening, and convincing myself that smooth meant beautiful. But underneath every sizzling pass of a straightener was something deeper I didn’t want to admit:

I was afraid the real me—wild curls and all—wouldn’t be enough.

This isn’t just a story about hair. It’s about the ways we shrink ourselves to fit in. It’s about identity, shame, redemption—and how one unexpected moment, standing in front of my husband with soaking-wet curls, changed everything.

curly girl posing on sofa

curly girl laying on sofa

curly girl shaking her curls

The Girl Who Wanted to Belong

I didn’t hate my curls at first. But I quickly learned they made me different. And different, I thought, wasn’t safe.

My mama, bless her heart, was my fiercest protector. She saw the world could be cruel to girls who stood out, so she did what she knew to help me blend in. She straightened my hair with anything she could find—an actual iron and ironing board, jars of mayonnaise, box dyes that turned my hair jet black. Whatever it took to keep the frizz down and the teasing away.

It wasn’t out of vanity. It was out of love. She wanted to shield me from the sting of rejection she knew too well.

So I kept the routine going well into adulthood. By my early twenties, I had gone all-in: Japanese thermal reconditioning, a permanent straightening treatment that left no room for coils or kinks. I did that for 7 years.

But it wasn’t just my hair I straightened. I straightened my laugh. My culture. My boundaries. My emotions. I trimmed anything that might feel “too much” for the people around me. And honestly? I lost pieces of myself in the process.

The Day I Let My Hair Go Free

Then came the moment that unraveled it all.

I was newly married, and I hadn’t done my thermal treatment in a while. My roots were starting to rebel. One afternoon, my husband walked in and saw me fresh out of the shower, curls wild and unfiltered for the first time.

Panic surged. I’d always kept the illusion that my hair was straight. I looked him in the eye and blurted out:

“Don’t worry, I still have to straighten it—I’m not ugly, I promise.”

He looked at me like I was crazy. Then he grabbed me, smiled, and said something that shook me to my core:

“I’m so happy you have curly hair. Why do you think I married a Latina?”

That moment flipped a switch. His words dismantled years of self-rejection. Right then and there, I decided: I will never destroy my curls again.

The Unraveling of the Old Me

Letting go of straightening treatments was scary—but it was the first real “yes” I’d given myself in a long time.

I didn’t magically become confident overnight. I had to relearn everything: what my natural texture even looked like, how to care for it, how to survive humid days without hiding under a hat. But the journey became less about hair and more about healing.

With every coil that bounced back, a piece of me returned, too.

I stopped apologizing for the way God made me. I stopped muting my personality. I stopped begging for validation. And I finally started embracing the woman I had been all along.

God Made My Curls On Purpose

I used to think God messed up on me. That the wildest parts of me—my hair, my emotions, my story—were burdens to manage.

But now I know better.

God made my curls on purpose. Not to hide. Not to tame. Not to chemically burn into submission. He gave them to me as a part of my identity. As a crown.

Jesus didn’t die so I could keep pretending. He died so I could live in full freedom—messy, textured, unfiltered freedom.

And yes, that includes my hair.

Healing Is a Process—And It’s Worth Every Frizz-Filled Step

Letting go of the flat iron wasn’t just about beauty. It was the gateway to reclaiming everything I’d buried to fit in.

From food freedom to body acceptance… from healing chronic pain to embracing my identity as a wife, mother of three boys, business owner, and daughter of God… it all started when I stopped straightening who I was.

I’m still in process. There’s still pain. But I’ve learned something I hope you’ll remember:

Sometimes there’s pain in the process of a miracle.

Sis, if you’ve been hiding—your hair, your truth, your God-given identity—this is your sign.

✨ It’s time to let your real self be seen.

✨ It’s time to trust that God didn’t make a mistake on you.

✨ It’s time to take the first step toward healing—from your scalp to your soul.

If this story touched something in you—if you’ve been straightening more than just your hair to fit in—I want you to know you’re not alone.

This space was made for women like us—ready to reclaim our identity, our beauty, and our confidence, one curl at a time.

🌿 Your journey doesn’t end here.

→ Keep reading: Curly Hair Routine for Beginners

Learn the exact steps I took to heal years of damage and begin loving the curls I once tried to erase. From products to mindset shifts, I’ll walk you through it all.

Or, if you’re just starting your healing journey and want support from someone who’s been there, subscribe below and let’s walk this out together—one beautiful coil at a time.

Because God didn’t just give you curls. He gave you a crown. 💛