Kinky (BWWM)

Chapter 1

If you don't like a little bit of controversy...then this book isn't for you.  For the people who still wants to read it. Thank you and I hope you enjoy reading.
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"Excuse me?" I said frowning at the woman in front of me. She couldn't be serious.

She folded her hands and leaned closer to me, "Did you really think you could work here with that hair? It's unacceptable." I frowned and looked at her hair. She had straight honey blonde hair, her definition of appropriate, hair that was easily accepted by society.

I touched my hair feeling a tad insecure, "There is nothing wrong with my hair." I defended. I made an extra effort this morning when pulling out my Bantu knots, I even laid my edges. When I looked in the mirror, my hair looked great. Yet, this women was now telling me the opposite.

"I disagree." she reached out and touched my hair. I couldn't help myself, I flinched when she started pulling the curls. I wanted to tell her off, but I controlled myself. I've been out of a job for two months now, and I really needed this one. "It's too Kinky."

"Kinky?" She couldn't be serious, right? "You know I'm black right. This is the type of hair most black people have."

"The black women who work for Mefford & Sons know better than to wear their hair like that." she touched her hair, "Neatly kept straight hair is what we're about." she had placed strong emphasis on the words 'like' and 'that' which made me even more defensive.

"I'm black, my hair is naturally kinky."

"Exactly. It's the twenty-first century. This company is a billionaire dollar company. We have an appearance to keep. We can't have you looking like a plantation slave."

Oh no, she didn't.

She didn't just disrespect the heritage of my Jamaican and Bahamian forefathers who worked to get out of slavery from the British.

She continued, obvious to her insult, "You have to roll with society. No one wants to see those coils and frizz. We hire black people but only because we have no choice and that's why you need to fix your hair before you start working here. You'd be so much prettier if your hair was straight." The last person to say those words to me was my BLACK ex-boyfriend; he was dumped immediately. He was a disgrace to his own ancestors.

I looked at the women in front of me, there wasn't anything outstanding about her features. Her blonde hair didn't match her black eyebrows which meant it probably was dyed. She wasn't that pretty, so why was she judging me on my appearance? And could she be any more insulting than she was at this moment?

I don't think so.

Going natural five years ago was the best thing that ever happened to me. My hair was healthy, and I was happier. If someone couldn't accept my natural kinky hair, then they didn't deserve me because we're a package.

My hair was never a problem at First Force Financials, but then again, FFF was owned by a black man, Mefford & Sons wasn't. It was just a disappointment to hear that the company had gone bankrupt. I tried my best as one of the accountants, but there was nothing I could do. Mark Myres was in deep waters, and the only option he had was to file for bankruptcy, leaving me and forty other people jobless.

Yes, I needed a job, but I am not desperate enough to change myself for it.

I pushed the chair back with hesitation and stand, "I'm a back woman, and my hair is a part of me, my culture and my heritage. Have a good day." I turned and exited the office with pride. I'm sure my ancestors were smiling in the graves at my decision.

Another job will come eventually.

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"How was the interview?" my roommate, Mia, asked as soon as I entered the apartment.