When I grew up, all the schools in the village demanded that girls cut their hair. The teachers would measure our hair and make sure it was not too long. I remember crying and begging as the scissors cut my hair. My dad told me that a girl who was in school needed to concentrate on books and that hair was a distraction  . I cut my hair all the way through primary school and middle school. Then I went to a high school that allowed long hair but no styles or braids   during class hours. Even then, still adhering to   my dad's words, I never wore my hair long. When I graduated from high school, I started growing my hair. I spent hours looking in the mirror and shaping my hair. My sister complained, wondering why I had to have two styles in a day. In college I heard the word perm  . Girls had some strong chemicals   put on their heads and made the hair look beautiful. I quickly sat in a salon   and changed my hair. I returned to the salon once every month. Even during the days when I had no money for food, I had to find money for my hair. After college, I was jobless and broke. I had to have my hair cut. At that time I saw a bald   black model. Her style shocked me and I admired her so much that I began to follow her. Therefore, there I was. I wore some large earrings and walked around like a model. And many people admired my style. At this point the journey with my hair stopped completely. I decided to have natural hair. I soon found out natural hair is the cheapest, easiest and healthiest way to wear African hair. What did the author think of having her hair cut in primary school?
She thought that was cool. She didn't care about hair at all. She hated the rule. She thought that must be helpful.