Sometimes I feel like a hypocrite.
As locticians, we spend a lot of time talking about schedules.
Stay on your retie schedule.
Don’t wait too long.
Protect your grid.
Maintain your foundation.
Catch issues before they become bigger issues.
We preach consistency because we know what happens when maintenance is delayed. We see the thinning. We see the marrying locs. We see the slippage. We see the weakened foundations.
We know better.
Or at least we’re supposed to.
But over the last year, life humbled me.
As I reflect on my journey from the classroom to entrepreneurship, from teacher to full-time loctician, from having just a teen and a toddler, to motherhood with twins, I realize something:
I have become the very client I warn people about.
I’ve gone beyond my retie schedule.
I’ve lost locs.
I’ve experienced thinning.
I’ve had locs migrate.
I’ve had to reconstruct portions of my grid.
I’ve even had to reattach locs.
The irony isn’t lost on me.
The woman reminding everyone else to maintain their crown has spent the last year struggling to maintain her own.
And yet, I wouldn’t trade the lesson.
Because somewhere between the missed appointments, the sleepless nights, the business building, the motherhood, and the endless responsibilities, something unexpected happened.
I developed a deeper understanding of my clients.
Life Doesn’t Check the Calendar
One thing motherhood has taught me is that life rarely asks permission before it starts life-ing.
Babies don’t care about your retie schedule.
Bills don’t care about your retie schedule.
Career transitions don’t care about your retie schedule.
Grief doesn’t care about your retie schedule.
Exhaustion doesn’t care about your retie schedule.
Life happens.
And when life happens, maintaining yourself often becomes the first thing pushed to the side.
Not because you don’t care.
Not because you’ve given up.
Not because you’ve stopped valuing your crown.
But because you’re busy surviving.
And sometimes surviving is enough.
The Client Behind the Excuse
Before this season of my life, I heard excuses.
Now I hear stories.
A client walks in and says,
“It’s been six weeks.”
But my loctician senses know it has probably been fourteen.
And instead of frustration, I find empathy.
Because I’ve lived it.
I’ve stood in front of the mirror looking at my own crown thinking,
“I know better than this.”
I’ve felt embarrassed.
I’ve felt behind.
I’ve felt disappointed in myself.
I’ve experienced the confidence that can fade when your crown no longer reflects how you feel inside.
That’s why I understand.
Not because I learned it in a certification course.
Not because I read it in a textbook.
Because I lived it.
The Beautiful Thing About Locs
The beautiful thing about locs is that they teach patience.
But they also teach grace.
Locs are resilient.
People are resilient.
A delayed retie is not the end of your journey.
A shifted grid is not the end of your journey.
A weakened loc is not the end of your journey.
Even a lost loc is not always the end of your journey.
There are solutions.
There are repairs.
There are reconstructions.
There are reattachments.
There are fresh starts.
The memes make us laugh.
“What do you do after week twelve?”
“Cut it off.”
But real life isn’t always that deep.
Sometimes what you need isn’t judgment.
Sometimes what you need is care.
More Than Hair
This season taught me something bigger than maintenance.
It taught me compassion.
The best locticians aren’t just people who understand hair.
They’re people who understand people.
They understand that behind every delayed appointment is a life being lived.
A mother trying her best.
A father working overtime.
A student balancing responsibilities.
A caregiver carrying everyone else’s burdens.
A person navigating a difficult season.
And sometimes that season shows up in the crown.
A Message From My Chair
If life has happened to you, I want you to hear this:
You are not the first person to fall behind.
You are not the first person to miss a retie.
You are not the first person to lose a loc.
And you certainly won’t be the last.
There is no shame in being human.
At The Loc Stone, my goal isn’t just to maintain your locs.
It’s to help restore your confidence.
To help rebuild what life may have disrupted.
To help care for the crown while you’re busy carrying everything else.
Because I’ve learned something this year:
When life wavers, confidence can waver too.
And sometimes the greatest gift we can offer one another isn’t perfection.
It’s grace.
— The Loc Stone
