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  I have a pretty atypical two year old. He likes swimming, bikes and markers. He goes to the park, picks books out at the library and wants to push the cart at the grocery store. And he’s got wild, crazy hair that we both adore.

   Living in a small town with a tiny Black population, I have yet to meet another boy with curly Afro hair. All the boys I’ve seen have very short, buzz-cut hair as if to hide their Blackness and blend in with the White children, and the small mix of Asian and Indian boys. I don’t want to hide our Blackness.

   Let’s get one thing straight. Our Blackness is freaking awesome, and anyway and how we can celebrate it, you bet we are. Why try to blend in? Were we meant for mediocrity? If so, we would not have beautiful crowns, we would be without fierce manes. Sharp eyes. Proud cheeks. Full, supple lips. Skin like golden beams. Curving, strong bodies and minds and souls.

    If I were still living in the city, I’d probably have played around with my son’s hair a bit more, a few designs here or a man bun and Mohawk style. There is already a deep connection to the Black community, to our Black family and so many other Black boys. Here, we are the lone wolves and I have become somewhat staunch about my son rocking a Huey. P Newton style Afro. Having his beautiful curls wild in the morning spring breeze.

   Let them be wild. And free. Let them revel and celebrate their Blackness. The freedom to do so is so empowering. Our next generation needs to know they matter. They are relevant. They are worthy. And nothing needs to change about the way they look to make that a fac