For a long time I thought all the energy I put into teaching my granddaughter how to do her own hair was not going to work. I watched her break all of the rules that I had used to train her to care for her hair without chemicals. A grandma speaking out of love does not have as much power as a best friend with silky straight hair pulled back from her face. The little pre-teen started wearing her hair pulled back and plastered down to her skin every single day. Nothing I could say would make her change it. Wearing the same extreme styles pulls the hair out around the edges. You have seen it. It forces the hairline back. Not an attractive style. It did not matter whether the hair was braided or straight, it was pulled tightly away from her temples. I decided that she was now to old for me to insist so I started giving her colorful bands to put around her head so the same soiled one would cease assaulting my senses.
Today, I walked pass her school in my daily jaunt. She and her friend recognized me before I recognized her. She blended in with her friends so well that I did not know her. She was wearing her hair in bangs. Nicely cut bangs. It made me feel better. The hair was not pulled back so tightly that it made her look oriental any longer.
Striving to Survive The Myth of Bad Black Hair. 