Every woman or girl who participates in pageants has their own specific crowing moment, before they ever win a title. Mine is related to my hair! As I entered the world of pageants, I was frequently asked by my family and friends what prompted my desire to compete. When asked I often paused, it’s difficult to express in a short conversation why one would decide to put themselves out there and be judged by a panel. It absolutely brings about the possibility of self doubt and can promote self conscious thoughts about your appearance, talent, and ultimately every aspect of yourself. My why goes beyond this, pageants for me have become a culmination of my journey towards self-expression and confidence. When asked why, my answer was always simple: I’m doing it to make young Anaya proud.
I have always been proud of my roots, and my family. As a child, I recall a constant admiration for my mother’s curly hair. She would tell me that her grandmother taught her how to style her hair, and eventually mine. So naturally, I grew up with stories about the beauty of curly hair and hair care tips passed down through generations. With three heads of hair to style between my sisters and I, my mom typically kept our hair in beautiful and intricate braids (decorated with colorful beads in our younger years). Being able to style my own hair was a marker of being grown up that I constantly looked forward to with excitement as a child. I am forever grateful to my mother for instilling this pride in my hair at a young age, because I’ve come to understand that I would need to call back to this feeling as I grew older. As my environments changed through my childhood, I often found myself in spaces where those around me didn’t always look like me. Without being represented, my pride in my naturally curly hair began to slowly shrink. I began to think that braided styles looked childish or that my hair was too unruly for school, not defined enough for everyday wear, or in general not pretty.
With that background, let’s jump to high school where I was always a more reserved student. As a proud introvert, I was more comfortable with academics than with social settings. Because of that, I always strived to sit in the front of the class. Mostly because it was easier to see the board with my glasses from the front, but also because I wanted my teachers to know me and know how deeply I cared about my education. By my junior year, I had developed a comfortability with my surroundings that allowed me to be more experimental with my hair. One particular day, I gathered the courage to wear my hair “out” and not care so much about which pieces may be sticking up or where my curls decided to fall. I was excited, and woke up an hour early to style my curls before the bus arrived. The day went on as usual, and as the bell rang in one of my final classes of the day, I gathered my books and went to the door. I recall my teacher calling my name in an almost timid voice. “Anaya, would you mind holding back for a second” and my heart dropped as I turned to address my teacher. In a brief and quiet explanation he told me that one of my classmates complained that they couldn’t see the board over my hair and requested that I be seated towards the back of the class. He assured me that my participation in class was helpful for the flow of our lectures, and admitted to feeling bad about even asking me to move. But he also wanted to acknowledge the other student’s attempt to access class material easier. Neither of us quite knew what to say. We stood in silence for a moment and for me the weight of the complaint felt extremely heavy. At the end of the conversation, I apologized and agreed to avoid the front row in the future to be fair to my fellow classmates. I left feeling confused and insecure. See, the front row wasn’t just a seat to me, and my carefully curated natural hair wasn’t a style I selected without hesitation. I should add, my teacher couldn’t have possibly known my internal self-consciousness with my hair journey and I sincerely don’t believe he had any bad intentions. Still with that one interaction the negative connotations I had about my hair that I had worked so long to dismantle took center stage. Internally, I knew I loved my hair, but this conversation reinforced my doubts that wearing my hair out to school was a huge mistake. I recall riding home and thinking to myself that I should’ve known better than to take up so much space.
Coming home, I was able to confide in my parents about what happened in class. I am so blessed to have parents that will lift my spirits and help me come to a solution for any problem- and they did just that. The next week, my teacher apologized and decided to resolve the “issue” by redirecting the student who made the complaint. I continued to sit in the front row, but this story remains as one of the most formative moments of high school for me.
The rest of my high school years were marked with “safe” hairstyles and a more frequent visit to the drawer with my heat styling tools. Internally, I still loved my curly hair, but I began to associate straight styles as easier, more manageable, or even worse - more polished. Unfortunately, I didn’t come up with these ideas on my own, nor was it the sole fault of my environment at school. Scholars have documented stigmas around Black women’s hair in educational settings and in the workplace. Duke University’s School of Business found that Black women with natural styles are often perceived as less professional in the workplace. Finding a place in society when stigmas such as these exist is simply hard. Rebuilding the admiration I had for curly hair as when I was young is a journey that I hold close to my heart. My personal crowning moment was long before I considered competing in pageants because it came when I fell in love with my natural hair again. Breaking through years of self doubt and external influences, I am finally able to say today that I proudly accept my hair in every form.
In my first pageant, I wore my curls out proudly. I realized that for the few moments I had to occupy the stage, there was no room to question whether or not I should take up space - it was mandatory. In every part of the competition I stepped with intention and pride in myself and my accomplishments. This moment felt like a celebration of my chapter towards self-acceptance, and a promise to myself to never let external influences determine my confidence.
I’ve always believed that as you grow older, every version yourself stays with you. It wouldn’t be possible for me to be the woman I am today without the little girl admiring her mother’s curls or the highschooler who dared (though timidly) to wear her hair out in class. Now in this latest chapter of my life, I am conscious of this and work to make sure that every version of myself would be proud of who I am today. I step into spaces that the younger versions of me could have never imagined, and I do so with confidence and pride in who I am. My decision to enter the Miss Delaware Scholarship Organization is no different. There’s one common rule in pageants that’s stood the test of time, when it comes to hair, bigger is better! Volume is commonplace and every version of womanhood is celebrated loudly. What I love about the Miss America Organization is that there is a strong emphasis on the mission to advance in service, scholarship, style and success. Rather than keeping outdated connotations about beauty pageants alive, the Miss America Organization breaks those boundaries by emphasizing beauty can be found in academic excellence and meaningful community impact.
Everyday I look in the mirror, I have a unique crown of my own: my hair! While I can now say I believe my curls are beautiful, I’ve learned that believing in your own beauty goes beyond physical appearance. Confidence and style can be cultivated and built through time, and if done correctly, I’ve found that it’s possible to develop an internal beauty unshaken by outside opinion. I am proud of who I am because of my immense and continuous personal growth, because I’m an actively engaged member of my community, because I have a platform to give voice to historically silenced groups, because I’ve earned two degrees in the field I love, and most importantly, because I wouldn’t dare to shrink myself ever again.
-----
This is her first guest blog for Section 36 Forevers.
