DAG: The Politics of Black Hair
Most black men have a barber. Some have a stylist.
Most black women have a stylist. Some have a barber.
I have both.
The similarities between the two are as striking as the differences (WAIT: are we talking about stylists and barbers here, or men and women?) In both, you have to call ahead, make an appointment, and show up ON TIME to that appointment or you find someone else sitting in your chair. In both, you will show up on time and still have to wait. In both, the space is sacred: people share their truths, often without filtering or research, and confidence is kept. In both, you will share things with the person doing your hair - and they will share, too – things that few other people in your life will hear. Not like this, not like in the shop.
Yes, in both, it is called the shop.
There’s no need to labor this point: the process of getting hair done shows little difference between us and them. The difference is what happens when you go home.
When a man comes home, it’s good if it’s CLEAN. Getting one’s hair “done” is more about getting one’s hair “cut.” Shape that scraggly beard up, even if you’re growing it, and even everything out. When communication fails in a loving and momentarily tense relationship, a man would be wise to go and get a haircut. (Try communicating FIRST, though).
When a woman comes home, there’s an evaluation. They don’t ask, “Will I like it?” but more like “Will they/my significant ones like it?” Will it please them? I’ve seen this in the shop: the stylist asks, “So what are we doing today?” and the client offers up a style, usually some declaration/question hybrid. I want it UP this time, with it rod’d in the back…you think that will look good? THIS IS WHAT I WANT, but only if you think it’ll be okay. And usually the stylist will give an honest opinion: some version of “I don’t know if you can pull that off” or “Ooo, that’s a cute idea. Let’s go.” So when a woman comes home, the “grade” of this style is hardly as objective as “is it clean?” No: if your husband, or children, or girlfriends don’t like it, it was an abject failure. Something is wrong with You.
I finally experienced this strange reaction that women have been describing to me, on yesterday. You see *da da dum* I got box braids (what a barber would call “them Snoop joints”). And the reaction was immediate and fierce, ranging from “I just don’t like it” to “you look goofy” to “this isn’t you” to “I’m afraid for your safety.” Thus far, only my stylist and I think our co-conspired life choice is nothing more than healthy hair daringly designed into clean parts and braided – a throwback to the early 90’s, and more importantly, to Ancient Egypt. (https://www.theroot.com/ancient-egyptian-women-buried-with-weaves-and-shoulder-1790877128)
But this isn’t Egypt. This is America.
THE POLITICS OF HAIR
I’ve been accused of being naïve before, especially with hair. This isn’t the longest my hair has ever been – that’d be 14 inches, compared to 8 now – and I’ve also had the sickest waves in 8th grade, platinum blonde hair in 11th grade, a Temptations fro in 12th, cornrows as a freshman at Morehouse, a traditional “Caesar” through most of my 20’s, and short curls up until recently, when I woke up one day with some serious kidney issues and needed to change my life. Long story short: hair has often been symbolic to me of a PROCESS I’m going through – a “leveling up” – and doing new things with my hair has always been connected to doing something new/brave/strange/dangerous somewhere else in my life.
In each case the reactions have been the same, with the platinum blonde a touch more vicious than the rest…
You’re better than this.
The hair of black men and women has never belonged to them (this is not a weave joke): it is has belonged to the stereotypes assigned to them by white people. Long hair is associated with virility, thus womanhood, and therefore shorthaired women are viewed as more “butch”, longhaired men as more feminine. It truly is insane, but as Steely Dan say, “Here in the Western World” it is what it is.
Because braids on a man are associated with gangsta rap, men with braids are thugs. It’d be one thing to call that wrong and racist, but I don’t want to go there. I’m more concerned with how black people have internalized this sentiment and given ownership of our hair, not just to white people, but to ANYONE beside themselves. I’m concerned with how we treat their hair like our hair – What have you done to my hair? And I’m concerned with how boring our hairstyles have become, how they to be representative of control, and our will to accept it.
Black men can have long hair now, but it needs to be tied up. Nothing flowing. Nothing wild. Nothing free.
Natural hair is more in fashion now – thank GOD – but you still need to be styling it in some way we’ll accept. We’ve gone from “Do what WE want” to “Do what you want, but we better like it.” Progress.
To avoid victim blaming, I believe this control over one’s physical identity has been wrestled away from us many generations ago. The Baby Boomers needed survival and these were the terms; black men got regular haircuts because “don’t mess anything up” and we’ve learned that even considering anything else is “gay”…not being a real man. As much as this whole idea of what women should do and what men should do (or what even constitutes gender) needs to die, we still carry these assumptions in our head.
I want to say this is the reason I got box braids, but it’s not. This was all laying in my subconscious. I got them because Snoop wore them, and I thought they were dope. I didn’t want to shake up my congregation, though apparently *sigh* I will. Nor do I enjoy being contrarian just because: that’s exhausting.
I’m going to stand up in church on Sunday and deliver a powerhouse sermon, in box braids, with the red, black, and green beads at the end of one because it’s BHM (the only symbolism I intended), and some people will love it. Some will question their previous assumptions about the TYPE of people that wear these things. Some people will be so agitated that they won’t be able to listen. And some people are going to be convinced that they don’t know the real me that my braids are now showing them. Fair enough.
Actually, not fair at all, but these are the terms of freedom. I choose to live free, and I must live with the self-loathing my people engender and nurture in future generations, praying all the while the prayer of Howard Thurman: “Lord, give us the strength to be free.”
I’ll close with a surprise: I DO care about your opinion, as most people who get their hair done do. I want you to love it, because I love it. My wife doesn’t love it, and that’s the only reason it’ll come down soon. But if you’re worried whether I’m a “thug” (blank stare), take the time to engage me. And that goes for anyone else. I love my people and where I came from. And if you won’t take the time, then save your stupid, irrational, ignorant opinions about me…and them. Just keep it moving.
And if you just don’t like it…ask yourself why. Be honest with yourself, and if you feel the need, sure, be honest with me.
If you reeeeally don’t like it…there’s some crazy stuff in Venezuela and Myanmar right now that could use your attention and rage.
And if you want to support me…I’ll never forgot how BreevEazie got in someone’s face when they tried to bully me for having blonde hair. Even if he hated it (he did), he protected my right to be wrong. In the words of Brand Nubian, love me or leave me alone.
But if you’re worried for my safety…go search for images of Trayvon Martin, Eric Garner, Laquan McDonald, Michael Brown, Tamir Rice…
…
And look at their hair.
Be free, my sisters. If you like the style, try it. Live with your decision. You don’t have to live with other’s reaction. You belong to no one but God, the most creative force there is.
Be free, my brothers. A fade ain’t saving nobody.