Bantu Knots Hairstyle Novels & Stories

For as long as I could keep my tongue off it, it looked pretty on me, too. We’d walk if the park was close by, catch the bus if it was farther. A different place every week, rolling on a roster. In quiet times, when the bus wasn’t too full, Momma took the seat behind me so she could put my hair up in a French braid. Separating it into a dozen smooth, straight sections, piece by patient piece. Undoing and redoing each fine weave until she had it just right. Those tight knots sat close against my skull, secured in looping patterns that gave me headaches that stretched out from my temples, long and taut. Like a rubber band noosed around my skull. But the braids kept any stray strands from slipp

she chided playfully, handing me a hairband and gathering her locks into a makeshift ponytail. I joined in with a few lighthearted jokes as I moved closer to her, eager to engage in the playful banter that always seemed to lighten the mood between us. "Here, help me with this," she requested, turning her back to me as she handed me the hairband and lifted her hair up. Taking the strands in hand, I carefully began to weave them into place, each movement deliberate and gentle. Once all the strands were neatly gathered, she deftly secured them into a messy bun, effortlessly transforming her hair into an artful arrangement.

By four, Grandma Judith comes to find me. “Sloane, dear, aren’t you going to get ready?” she asks. “Yeah. I guess I should,” I sigh. “I’ll come see if you need help in a little bit,” she says. I go to my room, suddenly wishing that Scarlet was here. She’s so much better at this sort of thing than I am. I shower and wash my hair, then blow it dry. I stare at myself in the mirror, thinking of what Aunt Samara said about a simple low bun. I try a couple of times and can’t quite get it right, so I decide to create a braided bun. At least then, I know I’ll be able to keep my hair tamed and contained throughout the night.

The shirt was tied into a knot at her waist, revealing her small waist. Her skin was milky white and her hair was coiled into a bun, revealing her naturally defined cheeks. Her eyes were big and bright, making her look like a person of mixed ethnicities.

"Not a chance. We’ll be right here. Moral support, remember?" As Kayla settled into the wide leather chair, the stylist—who introduced herself as Mia—ran her fingers gently through Kayla’s hair, tutting softly under her breath. "You’ve got beautiful hair, honey," Mia said warmly. "We’ll have you looking even more gorgeous in no time. What were you thinking?" Kayla thought for a moment. "Cornrow braids," she said finally, her fingers twitching with nervous excitement. "Something like this." Kayla showed her a picture she had saved in her P*******t board.

******* An hour later, I hardly recognized myself in the mirror. The stylists had braided my hair, but it wasn’t a normal braid. They’d divided it into sections, weaving and twisting until the strands spiraled together like ropes of gold and ash. Tiny, clear bands held the pattern in place, while more hair was French-braided around my head. The final braid curved like a crown, framing my face. It had taken all four stylists—and Kiara holding part of my hair at one point—to complete it. It hurt. It pulled. But the end result was hypnotic. The different tones in my hair caught the light, turning it into something alive.

I say now a bit grumpy. "Really you mean it?" She asks and when I nod she says, " I promise it will not hurt you this time and you will look so beautiful." She tightly braids my hair and then makes bun of it and puts pin to fix it. This time I actually don't feel any pain. Just a little sting here and there but that's okay I am not fragile. She adorns the bun with Gajra (Mogra flower) around it and puts dupatta on it and some more pin to keep all of that in place. Well it somewhat feels like I am wearing crown on back of my head. Then she makes me look at mirror and I cannot believe that reflection is me.

"You've got great hair. I love it. I'll teach you how to take good care of it." "Really? Go ahead! Bunică always makes me tie it up into a bun but it's hard. So, she usually does my hair but it hurts! She pulls it back so hard!" she couldn't stop complaining. It was one of the things she hated the most. Her hair was so thick that it barely fit in her hand when she held it. It takes her nine-nines before her hair is tied like her grandmother's and it's usually messy on top. It's not like when her grandmother does her hair that's really straight.

Katrina stated, heading to the bathroom to grab some things to do my hair. Katrina got to work on my hair, blow drying it and then curling it. “I think that we should do a loose bun at the base of your neck. It will look great with the neckline of your dress.” Katrina got to work on curling my hair before working to pull it into a chignon. A few strands fell in the front of my face. I was surprised at how nice it looked in such a short period of time. She was fast and efficient. “This looks great, Katrina. I could have never done something like this on my own. What about your hair?” I asked, looking over at her dress and then back at her. Her hair was already falling in waves as it was nea

Pulling her slightly curled ebony hair back into a high-ponytail, she gave herself air bangs with a flattening iron. This girl was a young woman to begin with, so after putting her bangs down, she looked more like a high school kid.