As a naturalista within the natural hair community, I can confidently say that shea butter is definitely a favorite among us. It’s a popular ingredient, with so many benefits, and it can be used on our hair and our skin!
However, when it comes to shea butter + locs, it can be quite the controversial topic.
In my experience and research, some loc’d folks discourage the use of shea butter in locs because, although natural, it’s a very thick butter. Thick butters tend to be the ones that are difficult to wash out, and what a lot of people who use them don’t realize is that if you were to take one loc and split it in half, you’d most likely find a buildup of shea butter, and similarly heavy products, just sitting inside your loc, chillin. Eww!
Now, there are loads of natural hair products with shea butter and – in varying amounts – I do believe it can be useable for locs. I think there’s also a silver lining to using it melted down as opposed to its raw, solidified form, which is another conversation altogether.
I had made up my mind that I wouldn’t use shea butter on my locs because of all the ‘horror-story’ style videos I’ve seen on YouTube about buildup in locs; however, being the (self-proclaimed”> eco-friendly woman that I am, I decided that I was going to use the shea Moisture Conditioner that I had under the bathroom sink, until it was all gone, and move onto a product I found ‘more suitable’ for my loc’d hair.
Article continues after video.
What I didn’t realize, was that I hadn’t been doing a good enough job washing out this conditioner in my hair, and on a show day, I decided to wash my hair, and was met with a huge dilemma.
Check out my 6-month loc update video, where I give an update to the state of my hair, while unknowingly, setting myself up for a disaster. #trialanderror
We’re deep into the cooler months and, for naturals, that means just one thing: Silk press season. Like clockwork, social media is a buzz with viral videos toting tips, tricks, and hair flips, among other enticing smoothed styles. Whether it’s a sleek middle part style or bouncy waves, there’s no denying the main character energy ignited with each look.
I can attest firsthand to the freeing feeling that soaping away buildup to emerge with a sleek look brings. My curls are tight and plentiful, but you’d never know as I always wear my hair straight. I’ve gotten my silk press routine down to a T and often opt for a siny bone-straight look. But come wash day, it’s my curls, kinks, and coils that make me smile the most. My silk presses aren’t just a process to straighten my hair. Instead, it’s a reminder of how appreciative I am for my crown full of curls.
Like most Black girls, I grew up wearing ponytails and twists weighted down with bobos and barrets. I have countless memories of sitting between my mom’s knees as she raked through my curls and saturated them with globs of Luster’s Pink Moisturizer, never forgetting to tell me how fast my hair “drinks this stuff up.” At that age, straight hairstyles were reserved for special occasions, like church or school picture day, and were done with a hot comb and thick layers of grease. But as I got older my desire for longer-lasting straight styles increased and I begged her relentlessly for a relaxer.
The answer was always the same flat no so my hair was kept in braids and twists. Her decision to keep my hair natural stemmed from two main issues. First, there were the dangers of perming virgin hair and how doing so too early in the growth process can alter the texture and growth rate drastically. Second, was the financial obligation bi-weekly relaxers came with. But in my senior year of high school, she finally gave in and during my college years, I was devoted to relaxers. It was a weird victory— sure my hair was pin-straight but I couldn’t help but notice it never looked as good nor full as my natural hair roller wraps. I knew I didn’t love the look the perms delivered but I continued to use them for management’s sake. Relaxers meant I could easily style my hair and most importantly, that I didn’t have to worry about it frizzing up.
However, a turning point came when I moved to New York. I didn’t always have the money to get my hair done and had to quickly learn how to do it on my own. This resulted in the ultimate happy accident. I began growing out the years of permed hair. The process was trying, but through it, I gained so much more than a healthy head of hair. I began experimenting with ingredients to help my hair retain moisture and learning different techniques to straighten it. As the months went by, I watched the ragged permed hair slowly grow out, leaving behind loose curls. I’ll admit those first few years were a struggle, seeing just how much my curl pattern had changed. But it also helped me remember what my hair could be. In the years that followed, I learned how to wash, condition, treat, and nourish my hair— and in turn, watched my curls transform from loose and stringy into tight ringletts and coils.
Article continues after video.
This tale isn’t a new one and has remained a double-edged sword within the natural hair community. Many Black women have experienced vitality after ditching their relaxers but have also felt the sting of natural hairstyling— be it lengthy wash days or product formula inconsistencies. After some time, the fantasy of the big chop and twist-out faze that caused the natural haircare industry boom began to wear off, and women slowly began going back to relaxers. The decision typically led to a familiar crossroads, having to choose between what made sense for your hair and what “looked good.”
Going natural isn’t for everyone, and, at the time, I didn’t think it was for me, either. Despite perming my hair late into my teenage years, straightening my hair was the only style I knew how to do. Before my first relaxer, I’d spent years using electric hot combs, curling irons, and heavy products like curl wax and hair polisher to tame my curls. The result lasted no more than two days and turned my hair into a greasy mess—meaning I’d have to wash and redo my hair sooner rather than later. It ultimately led to heat damage and manipulating my curls.
But getting a perm for the first or 70th time didn’t give me the results I longed for either. After leaving the salon, my hair looked incredibly thin due to how straight it was. I’ve always had very thick hair, so seeing it look flat was disheartening. Even when I settled on curls or a roller set, they never provided the voluminous look I preferred. My new growth was always nice and thick and when I started growing out my perm, I noticed it stayed that way. The fullness I tried so desperately to hide as a child was back and I wasn’t about to make the same mistake.
Over the years, I’ve honed my skills and can easily transform my hair from springy coils to smooth, shiny strands— so much so that most people, including stylists, believe my hair is relaxed. My process involves a lot of conditioning products, clarifying ingredients, and heat protectants. Each layer ensures my curls are deeply moisturized and heavily protected before I begin heat styling. Through it all, I’ve learned to embrace my texture and to lean into the frizzy days. Don’t get me wrong, I love it when my silk press is on point, but I’ve learned to love the days it fades just the same. Seeing my curls revert is the epitome of bliss.