What I Wish I Knew Before Picking Up That Comb & Brush

Let me take you back.

Before the notable clients, the beauty brands, the beauty studio, and the many licenses and certifications… It started in front of a mirror, trying to figure out how to part my hair straight.

I had a comb in one hand, a brush in the other, and a whole lot of pressure in my chest.

I didn’t pick up that comb because I was confident—I picked it up because I had to. My mommy was busy, appointments were too expensive, and I was tired of waiting on someone else to show up for me. So I did what a lot of Black girls do when life gets real: I figured it out.

That moment changed me.

I didn’t know it at the time, but learning to do my hair was the beginning of a much bigger story. It taught me self-reliance, resilience, and creativity. It gave me control. But it also came with weight. Once you become the “go-to girl”… the one who can braid, twist, press, and slay—you start to wear more than just styles. You wear responsibility.

And no one told me how heavy that could feel.

I wish I knew back then that beauty isn’t just about skill—it’s about creating boundaries, balance over burnout, and believing in your worth, even when others don’t. I wish I knew that being good at something doesn’t mean you have to carry everything.

The Real Lesson

Picking up that comb and brush was my first step toward becoming a beauty pro, but it was also my first lesson in becoming a woman who does it all—even when she shouldn’t have to.

Doing my own hair was a defense mechanism, not just about style. A quiet way I learned to comfort myself when I was still looking for my mother to be that voice of reassurance. When her hands weren’t available, mine had to be. And somehow, in that mirror, parting my hair and figuring it out on my own made me feel seen, even when no one else was watching.

It became my shield and my spotlight.

Growing up, I was shy and reserved in spaces where I didn’t always know how to spark a conversation. But my hair? It spoke first. It gave people something to notice and compliment—and that broke the ice. Some of those compliments turned into conversations… and some of those conversations turned into friendships. It taught me that I didn’t always need to speak first sometimes, what I created could speak for me.

Doing my hair became an open forum for me to learn how to love myself out loud.

Where I shaped my narrative before anyone else could define me.

I started building confidence that didn’t come from someone handing me a crown but from knowing how to braid one myself.

So yeah, this journey started with a comb and a brush…

But I was really learning to take care of myself, trust my hands, and write my own story one part at a time.

Your Turn

What was your “comb and brush” moment? That moment when you had to show up for yourself before anyone else did?

Drop it in the comments or reply to this post—I’d love to hear your story. This is a safe space to share, reflect, and grow together.