Imagine being born with straight hair, then waking up one day as an 18-year-old to find it all transformed — into curls. I never fully realized that this was late puberty until I went to a salon during college for the first time. My hairstylist kept telling me how much she loved my curls, and that I should never do anything to change them. My mom felt otherwise. If anything, she wanted to erase my curly texture and turn back time to my previously stick-straight strands.

When my hair changed, I had a hard time figuring out my mom's reaction. I once heard her compliment another Cambodian woman with curls even more apparent than mine, but she never once glorified my new texture. At first, I believed that her constant suggestions that I straighten my hair were an isolated incident. Then, during a family trip to Cambodia, I discovered she wasn’t alone in her efforts to change my hair. My relatives also had a hard time understanding my texture and what to do with it beyond making it straighter — something I internalized as a form of body shaming.

These double standards confused my idea of beauty. Without support from my own family, I often wondered if my curly hair was just a random mistake that was never meant to be. Living in a non-curl loving culture within my immediate and extended family was the beginning of my difficulties with navigating what it meant to be an Asian woman with curly hair. But, it went beyond that, too; I didn't often see people who look like me in magazines and advertisements, let alone search engines. When I Googled “naturally curly Asian hair,” the majority of results featured curls that had been manipulated by a hot tool or created by perms. It didn't help that I had a similar experience looking at product labels; it was rare to discover any representation of Asian women in curl products. For a long time, I brushed off the notion that my naturally curly hair was something of value. I was doing everything I could to tame my hair, like faithfully using a leave-in conditioner to stretch out my curls. I was idolizing the texture that was closer to what my family — and the media — told me looked “good” on Asian women.

It wasn’t until nearly a year ago, when asked why I was doing what I was doing to my hair, that I wondered why I wasn’t letting it thrive in its natural state. At first, I hesitated to give the real answer: that I wasn’t allowing my hair to be fully curly because I was trying to make it straighter than what it was. I claimed I was happy with what I was doing, but in the moment that I told this lie, I realized that I was part of the problem, too. I was caving to external pressures, and attempting to tame my curls based on standards formed by others. That day, I received my first curly cut and saw my hair transform into what it should have looked like. Even so, it took some time for me to fully embrace this new appearance.

Concerned with my internal perceptions, I began doing more research on how to care for my curly hair. As I soon discovered, it's much more complex than it seems; what works for one individual may not work for the next. Factors like hair porosity (ability to absorb and retain moisture), density, length or tightness of the curly ‘S’ loop of a hair strand, order of product application, and environment all impact how my curls look. In the process, I found social media to be an incredible resource; as a result of talking about my experiences on my blog and YouTube channel, I came across a curl-loving culture among strangers that also wished to embrace their hair. I began connecting with other Asian women with curly hair and heard a recurring theme in my conversations with these new friends: There’s endless pressure to change curly hair, and not enough support to let it flourish.

Although it might seem like curls should be celebrated for their uniqueness, I’ve always felt isolated because of mine. For almost 10 years, having curly hair didn’t feel normal to me because I didn't see anyone who looked like me wearing a similar texture. If my family didn’t like it on me — if the media wasn’t highlighting relatable examples of it in front of me — I just couldn’t get on board with finding it attractive, either.

I still feel uneasy about these conflicting beauty standards at times, but I can let out a tiny sigh of relief knowing that there are others online who share my feelings. Curly Asian hair is just as beautiful as any other type of curly hair, and I'd like to believe that others growing up in similar situations won't experience the same isolation I did. As a result of spending more time embracing my natural texture, I’m more in love with my hair than ever before. My curls are beautiful — and they're part of who I am.

Related: This $5 Comb Completely Transformed My Curly Hair

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