'We need to talk about the judgement you get when you have this type of hair.'

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"OMG, you're so pretty when you straighten your hair."

"The problem is you look young. Some people may not be able to take you seriously."

"You can't wear white, you look like a child going to communion."

Those comments (paraphrased from my ADHD memory, so please take them with a grain of salt,) came from a peer in high school (he was gross — I hope he reads this.) A former male manager and a close female relative.

The comments were about my curly hair.

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There's a particular type of judgment that comes from having curls and it's time for us to have a discussion about it.

Because, while I choose to believe most comments I've received over the course of my life came from good intentions, the truth is they have stuck with me.

Made me feel less than.

I have always had wild hair. It's not just curly, it's a defiant, gravity-defying entity. It gives Frodo from The Lord of the Rings (fun fact: my nickname in high school).

Meet 'Kevin,' one particularly defiant curl. Image: Supplied.

It's the kind of hair that looks like I've had, and lost, an argument with a light socket. It's undeniably me. I've never hated my hair and, truth be told, I've never had the attention span to try and do anything much with it.

However, it turns out people simply cannot handle it.

The judgement really hit its stride in my late teens and twenties.

Because the comments were really about me.

The myth of the straight-haired glow-up.

For those of us who grew up with curls in the 90s and 2000s, pop culture constantly fed us a very specific beauty narrative: The "glow-up" is not complete until frizz is slain.

We saw it everywhere.

Think Mia Thermopolis in The Princess Diaries, who banished her thick curly mane for sleek, straight perfection to be accepted as the Princess of Genovia.

Left: Not Princess Worthy. Right: Princess Worthy – spot the difference. Image: Disney.

Think Hermione Granger at the Yule Ball (books not movies), whose magical transformation involved replacing her bushy waves with a smooth, elegant updo. The moment signalled her sudden desirability, as the transformation made her literally unrecognisable.

The message to curly girls was clear: Your natural state is the "before" photo.

Straight, frizz-free hair is the prize.

Credit to the 'Goblet of Fire' hair and make-up team for at least throwing a curling wand at Hermione. Image: Warner Bros. Pictures.

These images, they stick with you.

And, for a time, I bought into this myth.

I pursued that glow-up. I invested in product after product that promised to slick down fly-aways, straighten the curliest of curls and untangle brambles.

I tried to style myself into an acceptable narrative.

But the truth is when my hair is straight, I don't look like an upgraded version of myself. I look like a stranger. My face doesn't work without a curly frame, and I genuinely don't feel like myself.

The straight hair might have ticked society's box for "put-together," but for me, it feels like I am wearing a costume; one I don't have time or patience to wear.

And so, I turned away from the straighteners and sleek-promising products. I invested instead in intense moisturising masks that boost curl health — and I didn't think anything of it.

Until that former manager's comment — "The problem is you look young. Some people may not be able to take you seriously." It was a gut punch because I knew exactly what he meant.

He meant the curls.

Apparently embracing curly hair is a professional pitfall for some.

The curls, apparently, are fundamentally unserious.

They defy the crisp lines and sleekness of corporate gravitas.

A person with meticulously blow-dried, disciplined hair seems like they'd deliver a report on time. A person whose hair expands slightly (read: triples in volume) when it rains looks like they might forget their laptop charger and accidentally spill their oat latte.

After that comment, I found myself trying to dress older.

I confess, I lost myself for a while as I tried to over-compensate.

But I never once thought about touching the curls, because I just couldn't be stuffed fighting what always winds up being a losing battle.

Finding peace in the frizz.

The truth is, we need to stop equating straight hair with seriousness.

I've finally realised that the judgment isn't really about the hair; it's about control.

It's about people being uncomfortable with anything that doesn't conform to a neat, predictable standard of femininity and professionalism.

My curls are a constant, visible rebellion against neatness.

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Curly hair, in all its frustrating, unpredictable glory, forces you to embrace a certain level of chaos, and that's actually a pretty good life skill.

It reminds you that things don't have to be perfect to be powerful. It demands a level of self-acceptance.

And, let's face it, on a humid day, the hair is going to do what the hair is going to do; your attempts to control it are just a waste of time.

I learnt this as I finished my HSC Years in Singapore, where the battle against humidity was a daily war. That was also around the time I gave up on straightening my hair (coincidence I think not!)

These days, when I see a woman with glorious, unapologetic curls, I don't just see a hairstyle, I see a woman who has chosen herself.

And to those who think my volume makes me look too young?

Grow up.

Feature image: Supplied.