Dear edges,
For a long time, I didn’t know how to speak to you — only how to style over you.
I treated you like you were meant to keep up with everything else: the tight styles, the slick backs, the gel, the glue, the heat, the constant manipulation. I expected you to cooperate, to look neat, to stay in place — even when you were clearly asking for rest.
I didn’t understand then what I know now.
I Didn’t Know You Were Different
I didn’t realise that you were more fragile than the rest of my hair.
That you needed gentler handling.
That you weren’t meant to be pulled into every braid or brushed the same way.
I let stylists comb through you too roughly.
I didn’t always speak up.
I didn’t always protect you at night.
And when you began to thin, I felt frustrated — instead of curious.
Embarrassed — instead of compassionate.
I Asked Too Much of You
I asked you to be neat at all times.
To survive tight installs.
To withstand glue and heat.
To recover quickly — without giving you time.
And when you started to disappear, I didn’t slow down right away. I kept pushing, hoping you’d bounce back the way you always had before.
You didn’t — and that wasn’t your failure.
What I See Now
Now I see that you were never weak.
You were overworked.
Underprotected.
And often ignored.
You carried the pressure of years of styling choices without complaint — until you couldn’t anymore.
Thank You for Holding On
Dear edges,
Thank you for surviving what I didn’t know then.
Thank you for reminding me to slow down.
Thank you for teaching me that protection is about more than how something looks.
You were never weak.
You were just asked to do too much.
And from here on, I promise to do better.
With care,
Me