The congo drums rumbled in syncopated rhythm. A stylishly nappy couple in African garb Watusi-ed across the TV screen. "Wantu wazuri, use Afro Sheen," sang out the commercial jingle. "Beautiful people, use Afro Sheen."

A sky-high Afro hairstyle was quite the beauty accessory for 1960’s and 70's Black America. Everyone had an Afro from Diana Ross to Aretha Franklin, Hollywood's Cicely Tyson and Star Trek's Lieutenant Uhuru.

These were the days of micro mini skirts and bell-bottom hip-hugger jeans (nowadays we call them low rise flares). You bottomed off your look with Earth Shoes (if you were into flower power) or either those clunky platform heels that gave us all the Frankenstein walk.

James Brown was singing “How you gonna get respect (when you ain’t cut your process yet?)” His natural lasted all of five minutes, and then it was right back to the conkalene and processed pompadour. Still, an NBA regulation-sized Afro was a necessary accouterment for any stylish 1960’s black girl. There were several versions to choose from.

Your run of the mill natural was the default style. The Blow-out was a special look achieved with a little help from lye-based perms. We had the curly Freedom ‘Fro and The Shag, a black version of the Mullet – spiky on top, short in the middle, and long at the back. Think Lionel Ritchie in his Commodore days. The Jheri Curl (ex-husband dubbed it "The Jelly Curl") was a drippy 1980's Afro alteration. Then there was the TWA, or teeny-weeny Afro. This is what you sported when you didn’t have enough hair for any of the above – which was pretty much the vast majority of Black America.

From a distance these coiffures looked amazingly dense, as solid as a bowling ball. In reality they were filled with air. Any old wolf could huff and puff and blow your Afro down. The style was wildly impractical if you wanted to swim or ride in a convertible. The slightest wind or rain would send your 'do into wild disarray. And don't try to take an afternoon nap or rest your head against the back of your chair. You'd wake up with a terminal case of a condition called "dent-head."

Afros were supposed to save us from the tyranny of the beauty industry and its impossible standards, but many a young girl cried into her pillow because she couldn’t get her ‘Fro to grow as wide and woolly as Angela Davis’. Women weren’t the only ones susceptible. “I hear you got a new boyfriend,” someone might inquire. “Is he cute?”

“Yeah, girl,” might be the response. “Brotherman got a big ‘Fro and everything.”

We went to such lengths to get “the natural,” that we might as well have gone back to the perms and straightening combs – which we eventually did. Johnson's products still makes it, but does anyone use Afro Sheen anymore?

The Afro was a grooming nightmare. Maintaining it was almost a part time job. I braided mine every night to avoid a snarled rat’s nest in the morning. My morning routine was to undo all the braids, comb it through, fluff it out, dampen it down, then pick, pat, and Afro Sheen it into a perfect ball. Even though I had what black women in beauty shops called “a good headful of hair,” I wore a huge Afro wig for almost a year to save myself the trouble of grooming it.

My single '70's came to an end. By the 1980's. I was raising two young children, trying to make it as a freelance writer and working on my first novel. I didn’t have time to comb my hair, let alone keep up with the latest styles. I got my oversized natural chopped into a TWA but the benefits were short term. My hair grew so fast it seemed I was going in for a trim every other week. I started wearing cornrowed braids with acrylic extensions because I could wash and wear them for a couple months without having to lift a comb.

I have gone on a decades-long quest for a carefree natural look, I have yet to find one. My current choice is shoulder-length dreadlocks, but even those aren't maintenance-free.

Now pay attention, there'll be a quiz. What's an important distinction between a "natural" and "Afro?" Natural hair can be styled into braids, twists, wraps, rolls, puffs, and various permutations. The Afro is natural hair at its most basic. At least that's how it used to be.

Updated versions have been spotted on or about the heads of india.are, Jill Scott, Lauren Hill, Maxwell, Macy Gray, and Lenny Kravitz, to name a few. No, this is not your mother's Afro. Gone are the pats and picks and Afro Sheen -- the sculpted bowling ball look. Gen X'ers rock their 'Fros in a variety colors, in asymmetric spikes and tendrils, and an almost studied stylessness -- the messier, the better.

Is the Afro an endangered species? Apparently not. In the immortal words of the rock band Marmalade, "all that's old is new again."

-- Sandra Jackson-Opoku writes frequently on travel and culture in the Africa Diaspora. She teaches creative writing at Chicago State University and is the author two novels: the award-winning The River Where Bloods is Born and the critically-acclaimed Hot Johnny (and the Women Who Loved Him).