When I was a kid, Saturdays held so much promise. The no-school thing was cool, but doing my hair was what I looked forward to the most. Transforming my dense, frizzy curls into what my Latin culture casually referred to as pelo bueno (“good hair,” as in shiny and straight) was the goal. Time-consuming and frustratingly temporary, yes, but I understood that the “Dominican blow-dry,” as it would eventually be dubbed, and “good hair” were synonymous with beauty. It was the 1980s, and I was Dominican, which meant one thing: I yearned for pelo bueno. I wanted a swinging mane, like those flaunted by my mother’s favorite novela stars, Lucía Méndez and Daniela Romo, and supermodels Brooke Shields and Paulina Porizkova, whose pictures covered my bedroom walls.
So every Saturday morning Mami summoned me into our makeshift kitchen salon. She spared no styling tool and skipped no steps: jumbo plastic rollers, bobby pins, a rat-tail comb, a boar-bristle brush, leave-in conditioner. Once my head was covered in rollers, off to the secador (bonnet dryer) I’d go. After I emerged, red-faced, my hair would be wound and pinned into a doobie set encircling my head; then, hours later, I had smooth, cascading waves of my own. Eventually my mom lost interest in being my hairstylist, but I was a busy teen who needed pelo bueno more than ever. Could I maybe, just maybe, work with my natural texture? My open-mindedness was soon quashed. There were no styling tools or how-tos to help me, no role models to show me what to do. Going curly meant dealing with greasy curling lotions and crunchy mousses. My magazines catered to one definition of beautiful hair, dispensing beauty tips that were useless to me. (“Wash and go!” was especially confusing.)
Thankfully, views are changing: Today curls are leading the Latina-pride conversation. Online, on Instagram, on the subway, Latinas have set their hair free and defined their own pelo bueno. I’m humbled by—and proud of—my Latina sisters who’ve resisted our culture’s long-standing obsession with straight hair. The avalanche of curl resources and products is helping me master my own natural look. I’m still seduced by a silky blowout, but recently I left my house with a head of wet curls—to go to work! I kept stealing glances at my hair, waiting for a frizz explosion. No one blinked at my ringlets, not even my husband, who’s all too familiar with my straight-hair devotion. That evening I called my mother to share the news.
I expected her to sigh and not-so-subtly suggest that I go comb my hair. But instead she admitted to experimenting with her own natural texture. “That’s super in fashion right now,” she said nonchalantly. Yes, Mami, it is.
Patricia Reynoso (@latintale) is a writer in Ridgewood, New Jersey. Share your #pelobueno story @glamourmag.
