A Letter from Damaly

I once volunteered for a photoshoot where I would be the talent.

I knew that they had mentioned hair and makeup but I came, afro-puff ready to go. (This was before shaving my head for a fresh start) I would be in a predominantly white space so I was not expecting someone to understand my hair. If there's one thing we know to be true its that’s most white stylists aren't trained to deal with black hair. So prep work is essential.

Only a few minutes after sitting in the chair the blood drained from my face as I realized that the stylist was pulling my hair band out and starting to dismantle it. Did I mention that I was ina room full of white people that I knew professionally and I was the only person of color to be found?

I was mortified. When my puff comes down, my deliberately gelled hair usually stays in place. Sticking out and stiff from the products. So I knew I looked all kinds of crazy.

I immediately had an internal meltdown. What the hell was happening? I thought over and over again but my face held steady.

I mentioned that I wasn't expecting hair to be done and the stylist joked that they were particular about the "look."

My face held steady but my insides were melting.

I felt him fumbling around for hairpins and then after some silence I heard the spritz of what I prayed and hoped was water.

He seemed to be struggling, not exactly sure what he was doing but it was too late to start over. At that point my hair had already been over manipulated for the amount of product it held.

Determined to make it work. I heard him mumble something about his hair clips being the strongest in the hair business because they were from France. K

As angry as I was I still didn't want to make a scene and make HIM feel bad. Even though I felt sick to my stomach, I prioritized the feelings of the person violating me.

Besides, I was not in a safe space. No one would have understood my outrage. I would just be labeled as overreacting and an angry black woman.

Slowly people came in and out of the space. Seeming confused by whatever was happening to me in that chair. The producer came in and appeared slightly startled at the scene but tried to reassure me that it was looking good. She could feel my embarrassment and tension but did not speak up either.

When it was all over it was in a strange pulled back style that I did not like at all but I did what I knew best. I smiled while swallowing my pain.

He asked me if I liked it and I told him that it wasn't something I was used to. They smiled and pushed me onto set.

I'm still not sure what had been so distracting about my puff but alas there we were.

To be honest the style wasn’t terrible. I had probably had worse hair days in the past but they were MY bad hair days. Hair days that I could own and be responsible for. The sheer shock of it all made it hard for me to even look at myself to SEE the hairstyle to begin with.

This wasn't the first time my hair had become a problem. It wouldn't be the last time it would be treated by the world as something that needed to be dealt with instead of appreciated.

I held that pain In my chest. Until this very moment of me recalling this story.

These photos are still displayed in some public places. And sure I look ok in them but I can't get past the feelings they evoke. I see nothing but my shame of being laid bare in a room full of people.

I can remember leaving that room and immediately texting my sisters recalling all of the details and living in their protection of me. Them confirming how weird and wrong it all was, was reassuring. When the world tells you constantly that these issues aren't a big deal you usually need a few double takes to check on if you're overreacting.

To this day, I feel anger and compassion for the Damaly sitting in that chair.

I wish that she had known that her need to be seen and safe should outrank the feelings of anyone else in her vicinity, white, black, orange or blue.

I wish that she had known that she had nothing to be ashamed of and that there were other choices than smiling through it.

I wish she had known that she was allowed to use her voice even if it’s yell shook the building.

This experience has shaped my policies around the photoshoots that I run to this day.

It's why I photograph black women and talk extensively about what they need and want from their sessions with me.

It's why we plan so much far ahead of our sessions together.

It's why their sessions are completely about them because we have all had to sit through sessions where you were just the muse and had no say in the final output and most importantly it's why I surround them with a black team who understands their skin tone and hair.

My number one priority is to make my clients feel the safety that I missed in this moment.

My work is about making sure that the voices of black women can be heard from another continent. It's why I try to capture so much love, strength and fierceness in their eyes.

I've neglected this page a lot as of recently because of what's been going on with COVID-19 and I apologize for that. I had to take some time away to take care of myself and my family but I wanted to restate it here for anyone that is newer to my world.

#blacklivesmatter #blacklivesmatter #blacklivesmatter and of course a shout out to my particular ministry #blackwomenmatter

Black women have shaped my world, and I am so grateful that so many of you continue to invite me to help share in yours.

Please please please remember to take care of yourself during this time and to the beautiful ladies who have been patiently waiting for outside to reopen for your photoshoots, I thank you so much. I promise that when we are back, that it will have been worth your wait.

Damaly