My stylist blow dried my hair as we chatted. She was getting ready to twist it when she said, “You know, one day you should just wear it like this. You have BEAUTIFUL hair.” She was right. With my hair blown out like that, I looked like a young Diana Ross. I was inspired and was immediately feeling myself. I told her that the game plan was to take my headshots with my two strand twists, then we’d experiment with the big hair later. Then it happened . . . I changed my mind. I said, “You know what? Let’s take a risk. I want to do something different anyway.” She asked, “Do you want to send a picture to your manager to double check?” Me: “Nope. It’s cute. She’ll love it.”
I took a weekend to get used to taking care of the big hair. I was proud of it. I felt like a queen. I got compliments in the grocery store. I took selfies. And if you know me, that’s a huge deal. I only do that when I’m REALLY feeling myself.
We scheduled an appointment for the morning of my photo shoot just to make sure my hair was still cute. I stepped into the salon already feeling fine. My stylist agreed and even took a picture of me walking into a salon with my super high confidence. She did a restyle and sent me on my way.
I arrived to set, and it happened. I stepped into the WORST humidity. I figured it would be fine because we were prepared. My hair was to be pulled back until we were ready to shoot. When I got into the studio, I brushed my hair out and told my photographer I was ready, but after a few photos I could tell that my hair was out of control. I tried to tame it by brushing and combing it between takes, but it was difficult. By the end of the shoot, I saw a few photos I liked in spite of the fight with my hair. I went home feeling accomplished. It was a fight, but I won.
I paid the photographer, got the images back and immediately sent my top pics to my team. My agent got back with me and only liked one look out of the two. My manager didn’t like ANY of them. It wasn’t the makeup, the photographer or the wardrobe. It was my hair.
If you know anything about my journey this year, you know that’s a sensitive topic for me. I’ve been wearing my natural hair for about eight months, and I’m just now really OWNING it. I was so frustrated when I realized she didn’t like it. I felt silly for liking something she hated. I felt silly and small and went to bed mad.
When I got up to pray, I felt like God was telling me to not be offended. It’s my manager’s JOB to tell me if my look is working or not. It’s her job to look out for me. It’s my job to be the wild creative that just makes art. She’s my buffer. I was essentially mad at my buffer for doing her job!
Truthfully, I’m working on a major career level up, and I could use all the help I can get. This time my help came in the form of some feedback I didn’t want to hear. This week I was reminded that feedback can offend me or grow me, so I chose growth. I emailed my manager, thanked her for her feedback and asked her for direction. I never want her honesty to stop, even if we disagree. If what she has to say will help me grow, I’m here for it. And next time, I’ll be sure to send a picture first!
About me . . .
I'm Cyrah Hill. I'm a woman of faith, an actor and an everyday black girl.