Ogy, 41 years old


My mother is Algerian and my dad is Black, American-Indian, and Irish. When I was born, I was born with a full head of black curly hair.

I would look at look at all the cheerleaders with long hair and I'd be like, "I want long hair. I want to be cute, but I couldn't be. I didn't look like that.  I looked at all the princesses on TV and I was like, "They all have long hair. I'm not going to look like. that. " Nobody looked like me anyway.

They didn't know what to do with my hair and they would put a crazy hot iron on it; the really strong one that would like literally make my hair break at the ends. There's this drive of, "If I fix my hair, everything in the world will be fine. My world will be fine; it'll be in control."