I entered the doors of Forge Road Elementary School on a Monday morning with a glowing, vibrant smile. My fellow fifth grade classmates were astonished by my hair, perfectly pressed and straitened, cascading from the top of my head down to my shoulder blades. The night before, my mother finally complied with my importunes and strayed away from our Sunday night tradition of braiding my hair into what seemed like a hundred tiny, stiff braids. Sunday nights were war; my knotted and curly hair the enemy, my mother the brave warrior, and the comb her weapon. I was joyfully elated when my mother agreed to straighten my hair . I was finally able to tie my hair up in a ponytail and even tuck my hair behind my ears, all tasks that my classmates did