“You’re sure?” my mom asked. I was.

A relaxer is a painful affair made more painful by the fact that the pain signals its effectiveness. First, the white liquid is battered onto sections of your scalp. Then it’s pulled through strands of your hair. When it starts to burn, you know it’s working. The longer you can withstand the needles, the longer the relaxer will last once it is washed out.

Relaxers work, but part of the reason they work is their ability to make women dependent on them. They get to the root of the problem — meaning that when you sweat, your hair actually stays manageable. Relaxers wear off slowly and then all at once, until you’re staring at yourself in the mirror after a hot summer day and frantically making your next appointment.

I’m 32, and since that first day in the salon I’ve spent roughly $18,000 on straightening treatments to look like a version of myself that makes me feel more at home in the world and in my body.

Up until a few months ago, I straightened my hair every day. I straightened it, mostly, to try and mimic the feeling James Brown gave me and the women in my family — to show up at work with the same feeling that I used to have showing up at school after a hair appointment: comfortable and radiant, so I wouldn’t be bothered to think about my hair at all.

Recently though, I stopped straightening my hair. In some way, this small act that millions of women opt for every day, makes me feel closer to my grandmother, who died a decade ago, as if I’m just waiting for her to sit on the tan striped sofa with the news playing in the background.

Most women at some point have to grapple with the relationship they want to have with their hair. Do they want to use it to make a statement or have the least maintenance possible? How prepared and put together do they feel if their hair isn’t done? Hair is one of the defining pieces that influences how a woman feels when she enters the room, whether that’s comfortable to admit or not.