Y’all, remember in school when you’d see that one black girl who straightened her hair to its maximum length, which ended up not being very long at all, and she gathered it into the shortest, barely there #StrugglePonytail where just past the elastic ponytail holder was the tiniest tuft of hair that looked like bristles from a Bob Ross paintbrush, and if you stood close enough to her, you could hear her overworked hair humming the Negro spiritual “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” because it barely had the strenf to carry on and was ready to meet its maker?
