Crown Like Mine

Ariyah been lovin’ her hair since she was little, but today? Today she felt extra cute.

She stood in front of her mirror, long kinky curls spillin’ down her back like a whole waterfall of sunshine. “Mmm-hmm,” she said to herself, fluffin’ the ends, “y’all can’t tell me nothin’ today.”

Her grandma poked her head in the room. “Girl, you still in here playin’ in that hair?”

Ari rolled her eyes but smiled. “Ain’t nobody playin’, Granny. I’m appreciatin’. This right here? Art.”

Granny laughed that deep, warm laugh that always made the house feel safer. “I remember when you ain’t even like your hair,” she said. “Used to cry every time I tried to do them little twist-outs.”

Ariyah shrugged. “I was young. Didn’t know any better. Folks at school stay sayin’ my hair too big, too wild.” She flipped her curls dramatically. “Now look at me—big, wild, and fine.”

Granny clapped her hands. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about! You walk out this house knowin’ who you are.”

Later that day, Ariyah strutted down the block to meet her friends. The sun was hittin’, her hair was poppin’, and she felt like the main character in a summer movie. A group of kids on the corner paused to watch her walk by.

One girl whispered, “Her hair so pretty…”

Ari grinned and tossed her curls over her shoulder like she’d been waitin’ on that compliment all morning. “Thanks, boo,” she said, not missin’ a step.

When she reached her friends, they immediately gasped.

“Girl, your hair is GORGEOUS today!”

Ari smirked. “Today? Baby, my hair stay gorgeous.”

Everybody laughed, and she joined in, loud and unbothered. ‘Cause she wasn’t tryin’ to hide anymore. Not her curls, not her confidence, not her shine.

Her crown was big, bold, and Black—and she loved every inch of it.