Gentlemen, I’m just gonna lay this down straight.

A lot of us expect to see a lady in all her refined prettiness 24/7. That just isn’t the case. For your sake and hers, if you expect her to be IG-perfect sans-filter all the time, then you truly don’t deserve her.

Allow me to take it back a little. Remember when you first met her? Remember how she caught your attention with how beautifully she wore her mane? How her curls bounced as she laughed at your jokes? How her hair had the scent of everything good with the world? Good times, those were.

Fast forward to today, and you’re in the same house. You look at her, and she has her head in a shower-cap, and over the shower-cap is a towel that she uses to wipe off some milk-like substance streaming down the sides of her head. She’s in an old t-shirt, a leso around her waist, and a greyish paste on her face. At that moment, you feel the urge to ask, “What the hell is that on your face?!”

Image via Pinterest, via Google.

For your sake and hers, please hold back that urge. Control yourself. For the love of that good thing you have going, do not aak any such question, particularly with THAT tone that us guys are prone to using.

I’ll break it down for all our sakes: We guys get away with a lot of nonsense. We can wake up and rock on out to whatever we need to do in our pyjamas, and no one would bat an eyelid. Her? She’s living in a cruel world, one random instagrammer away from being turned into another cruel and victimising meme.

You have to appreciate this: For her to be that damn pretty, she has to put in the work.

Back then, when you were only meeting up in the evenings and heading back to your respective houses, she had the time and chance to do all this without your knowledge. You had no knowledge of how many hours of care went into making that fro look at healthy as it does. You parted ways, she looked fabulous. You met the next day, she had changed her hairstyle, and looked even more delightful. “Damn!” was all you could think, matching that with a statement along the lines of, “Wow! You look gorgeous!” At which point, she beamed and blushed.

Then you started sharing a roof, and suddenly that picture-perfect ready-for-selfie Queen disappeared.

Except for the fact that she didn’t. She’s still right there with you.

Listen man, if you wanna be with her, you have to put in the work with her.

That means being with her as she does her twists (‘matuta‘, as my lovely wife calls them) so that her curls can be divine the next day.

That means appreciating her when she’s in her towel and shower-cap, because the beauty has to DC her hair for that healthy sheen you so love.

That means knowing what products work for her 4C hair, and sometimes bringing her her favourite conditioner – because you know her hair isn’t friends with shampoo.

That means knowing when her bentonite clay is almost out – or at least ask about it, instead of seeing her appear with her face mask and asking, “What the hell is that on your face?!”

I’ve heard a lot of men complaining about what their queens look like when at home – the shower cap, the old t-shirt, the face mask… This, when we are in our old boxers and beaten-up promotional t-shirt.

At least she thought it through: She wants to look like royalty. Her hair is the crown on her head. She needs to wear her crown right. So she got her coconut oil, mixed it in with her leave-in, added an essential oil… and put on her shower-cap so that her hair can feel the love. She then had a towel on hand to keep that mix from dripping down – because then she may look like a hot mess. (Key word there being ‘hot’, because once in a while, I do love me a hot mess, ’cause she just looks so damn sexy…)

And the t-shirt? Well, she could wear that lovely dress you love seeing her in, but it would get stained. Or she could do all that in lingerie, but cold-induced illnesses are real things. I wouldn’t want my Queen in self-imposed distress.

Being a queen takes a lot of work. What I’ve mentioned is just a tip of the iceberg. Gentlemen, we have to learn to appreciate it when our queens put in the work to step out and face the world that already judges them so harshly with confidence. And you know what would make your queen feel even better? Put in the work with her.

Image via

I agree with you: I know a little more than the average guy would know about hair care. I see your judgment, and I welcome it warmly, for two key reasons.

One, I’m that secure in my masculinity. The status of my manhood isn’t compromised by knowing what works on my queens hair and what doesn’t. Neither is it compromised by asking her to lay her head on my lap as I oil her scalp. I know myself, and another person’s definition of masculinity does not make me insecure in mine. I am the King that my Queen needs.

Two, I’ll have a daughter someday. She’ll ask me questions. She’ll ask Daddy to do her hair because Mommy isn’t at home – or just because she wants Daddy to do her hair. I’d be a fool if I told her, “No. Daddy can’t do such things because he’s a man, and men aren’t meant to do such things.” That’s not the kind of father I want to be. I want to be the kind of father that treats his little Princess in a way that has her secure in who she is, and understanding how she should be treated as someone’s future Queen. SO yes, Daddy has to understand how do help his little Princess with her crown, and he’s going to enjoy spending that time with her. (We’ll chat about this later.)

Image via

So there we are: Your Queen remains your Queen. It’s for you as the King to understand what she needs to remain so, and walk with her, hand-in-hand.

Salute to the Queens.


Queen Njeri Olang'

Queen Njeri Olang’. (Image/Armstrong Too) 


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