Growing up I had stick straight black hair with bangs that my mom cut herself. It was simple and easy to care for, but in my eyes it was utterly boring. I was the only one in my school besides my siblings with that kind of hair.

Why couldn’t I have beautiful blond curls like Krista or sandy brown ringlets like Ashley? Their hair bounced and moved. They could put their hair up into all sorts of cool hairdos which would stay in place. My hair just hung as it was heavy and slippery (later in life this would be translated to silky), so hair styles rarely stayed in place.

In my teen years I took matters in my own hands. I asked my mom for a perm. She took me to Sally’s Beauty School where students practiced their skills, and everyone left with the same hairstyles which many would recognize as “grandma perms.” I had a frizzy bob, but hey, I had tight waves! During the ‘80s, perms were all the rage so I felt like I fit right in.

The problem was that no one told me about the growing out process. It’s one thing if you already had naturally wavy hair as the transition was not so obvious. But imagine a head with the top few inches completely straight, then abruptly changing to a wavy frizz. It looked like I slept with a bowl over my head.

During my freshman year of college, spiral perms were popular so I got one of those. After years of perms over perms, my hair had changed to a dull, brown color that felt brittle. I was tired of the growing out process of perms which could take years.

I missed the natural shine and silky texture of my hair. More so, it wasn’t until my college years that I came to fully acknowledge my Chinese American heritage. This meant I stopped trying to look like mainstream America and instead accepted and embraced my natural features.

I vowed never to get another perm. That was in 1990, and I have kept that promise.

Now people tell me how I’m so lucky I don’t have to pay $800 for Japanese straightening perms and how they would love to have my naturally glossy, soft hair. I’ve also been able to donate my hair every few years to Locks of Love, a non-profit that makes wigs for children with cancer. The organization only accepts natural, non-permed hair.

I know now that my rejection of my hair during my younger years was my way of searching for self-identity in an environment where I didn’t look like everyone else. Sometimes it just takes time to come into your own and embrace your natural features. When you do, it’s the best gift you can give to yourself.