Hairs by Sandra Cisneros

Everybody in our family has different hair. My papa’s hair is like a broom, all up in the air. And me, my hair is lazy. It never obeys barrettes or bands. Carlos’ hair is thick and straight. He doesn’t need to comb it. Nenny’s hair is slippery—slides out of your hand. And Kiki, who is the youngest, has hair like fur.

But my mother’s hair, my mother’s hair, like little rosettes, like little candy circles all curly and pretty because she pinned it in pincurls all day, sweet to put your nose into when she is holding you, holding you and you feel safe, is the warm smell of bread before you bake it, is the smell when she makes room for you on her side of the bed still warm with her skin, and you sleep near her, the rain outside falling and Papa snoring. The snoring, the rain, and Mama’s hair that smells like bread.

Over the years, I have used Sandra Cisneros wonderful The House on Mango Street as a mentor text. I taught first grade students using the children’s version, Hairs/Pelitos. Students delighted in examining the hair of family members, wrote poems, and giggled delightfully as they explored the hair of peers with a fine tooth comb (pun intended). I utilized the description of the house to have fourth grade students imagine it from the descriptive text and create floor plans; oh, the interpretations were delightful and told so much about student comprehension and understanding gleaned from text. Or didn’t.

I never understood how important hair was until I was told that I would lose mine.

The diagnosis didn’t bother me as much as the words “you will lose your hair.” Never in my wildest imagination did I think that I would have breast cancer. But there it was. And I was dealing with it. I didn’t fall apart; I didn’t curse the gods; I just approached it as a challenge to be undertaken and defeated. Then I could get on with my life. I would have to take the school year off, I was told by my doctor. There would be multiple benchmarks to be met which could be ticked off in order. There were the side effects: nausea, neuropathy, weight loss/gain, body aches and pains. Didn’t sound like a whole lot of fun, but I’d deal with it. Medications were offered, prescriptions filled. Then the final blow: “You will lose your hair.” That did it. All sorts of thoughts bubbled up from the recesses of memory. They are stored there for a very good reason. They suck.