So my friend Ron came back to town after a few years on the road. He was a cool dude. I was surprised he looked me up when he came back to town. He's actually been attending my events lately and hanging out after to chop it up. He drives lyft so sometimes he will give me a ride someplace if I need one.
Weird thing, yesterday he was saying how he wanted to see my natural hair. I was like nope. But it so happened that I had spent a whole day working and sweatting in a warehouse so my scalp was making me nuts. I wash every two weeks anyway. He was saying how I should wear a natural.
Natural.
Has been a source of trauma for me over points of my life.
1.
The first time I went natural it was because I was forced to by my mother. She was always obsessed with me having a short afro. Which back then was not something a child of 8 did for fashion. My mother was mad bougie so she never learned or was taught how to cornrow hair. All of the women on her side of the family had fine hair that would look strange braided that way anyway. My fathers side of the family was the african side. Thick wooly hair. When I went to NY in the summer; first order of business was corn rows because we would swim all summer.
Back with my moms however, if I swam; at the end of the day it was a hair pulling nightmare for my mom. I'd scream and cry because she didn't know how to comb without yanking the shit out of my scalp. She didn't even try. So she just cut it all off. I was 8. I didn't wear dresses, or girly clothes. I was already a tomboy. So wherever I went I was called HE. One girl got mad at me one day and had all the neighborhood kids outside my house chanting I was a boy.
2.
I would be hanging with my cousin Laurie from NY when she came to Ohio for the summer. My grandma said 'if your mom doesn't send money to get your hair done, you won't get it done.' Laurie would want to hit the pool to meet guys. She was Puerto Rican so her hair was a breeze. Mine looked like a brillo pad. One day walking home there was a group of high school guys walking behind us. One of them looked like El DeBarge. I made a loud comment about how fine he was. He commented back about my nappy hair and how I was ugly. I tried to laugh it off. But it hurt.
3.
In LA I wanted to let my scalp breathe, but I was curious how people would treat me. I let it go and it was pretty buckwheat like. I got weird looks at school. One woman I lived with scolded me for having my hair a mess. When I was on the train I looked up to see a brother mad dogging me so hard I thought he would slap me. People I spoke to everyday either didn't recognize me or asked me if something was wrong. When I asked why, they would glance at my hair and say nothing. A guy whom I had a crush on saw me and paused, and kept walking. My hair looked almost exactly like his. Did he suddenly see me as another dude? It clearly made everyone uncomfortable, or think I was having some sort of breakdown. In the grand scheme of things I shouldn't care. However, the temperature of how I was dealt with left and impression. I have been chemical free since 1996. I have braided my hair and crochet styles or worn wigs. I weaved for a while but stopped. Wigs got cheaper and better looking so I would wear them. $40 for 6 weeks of a wig isn't a bad investment. I don't have $150-$250 every two weeks to go to a salon even to be natural.
I made the mistake of snapping a pic of my washed hair and sending it to him. He called back and said I could work with that and he started in on me.
The thing that bugs me is this.
Why do black men feel they have the right to tell me what to do with my hair? Why do they feel the need to insist I be natural? Why does it have to be an argument? Why is there some sort of label assigned to me as being 'lost' because I don't have the time money or energy to deal with my natural hair. It's not just wake up and go. Far from it. There are all kinds of products involved. Plus I want my hair to be dynamic and exciting. That takes work.
I am not dating this guy, or romantically involved with him. So why is he insisting on this? I got really angry. ITS MY HAIR AND I WILL DO WHAT I WANT WITH IT. He made some comment that I will be the only woman looking like George Jefferson. Like I'm going to go bald. From braiding my hair? Get the fuck out of here. He's talking to me like I am Naomi wearing weave. I'm not. Her shit is falling out. I really don't like being told what to do or how I should look. Or be shamed into wearing my hair natural because there is something 'wrong with me' if I don't.
It's my fucking choice.
I am wondering if this is going to keep coming up. Or if he will respect my wishes and not keep trying to force me to do what he wants. Even if he wanted to date me, this interaction is making me see him differently. Not as someone who can like me no matter what I choose.
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