Hair Me Out

It was a GOOOOD hair day.

Each curl twisted and twirled into irresistible curves around my face. The coal-like color and ancestral patterns embodied pride and heritage. The velvety, voluminous texture called out for that admiring, side-eye glance.

As I said, it was a good hair day and…I definitely was feeling like a natural woman! Without question, the bounce of my hair influenced the spring in my steps, as I walked down the office corridor. Feeling good inside and out, my hair and I had no idea a rather unsavory slice of life was about to be dished our way.

As I neared the end of the corridor, a familiar aroma was wafting through the office air. Pizza Day was well underway, and my coworkers were lined up for a slice of the action. Inching my way onto the line, I thought I may be a bit too late to grab a slice or two of the Margherita pizzas. Before I could work myself into a true pizza panic, a colleague hopped right behind me and in a censuring tone, Don blurted out, “Your hair!”

Working in the trendy beauty biz, I hoped that wearing my natural¹ hair or afro would simply be accepted as an expression of my personal style or culture. But I was sadly mistaken. The debut of my new do², was met with a surprising mix of reactions the past few weeks and I had an inkling that Don, a white colleague, was ready to give his unsolicited opinion. So, the hairs on my head began to rise in defiance and I turned ever so slowly to look at him.

“What did you do to IT?” he asked sarcastically. I took a meditative breath before I replied, “What do you mean?”

“It looks like something I wash my wife’s car with”, he quickly retorted while reaching out to touch my hair!

In utter disbelief, my hair and I thought “Uh Uh…OHH – no he didn’t!! I quickly moved to distance myself from his words and the inconceivable rudeness of his hand. Like a beautiful balloon pierced by a pin, the good hair vibes seeped out of my body.

Down to my very roots, I felt dissed – disrespected, disappointed, disillusioned and definitely displeasured by his thoughtless act and words. My spine stiffened a bit, my lips pursed, and I wondered, must my mane be mainstream to be accepted? With that question in mind, I wanted to know what was on his mind so I asked him, “What makes you say that?”

Taking umbrage, he declared, “What do you want me to say? It does look like this thing I clean my wife’s car with, so I wanted to see what it feels like.”

No matter how you slice it…I could see there was no point in continuing this conversation, so I left the line and went to my office. I closed the door and closed my eyes to mentally rewind what just transpired.

The mere fact that there are states where someone can be fired because of the texture or style of their hair³, brought my co-worker’s attitude center stage. I earned a living in an industry of influence, where most standards of beauty were benchmarked by hair and features unlike mine. The decision to wear my natural hair was not only about what was on my head but what was in my heart. It was my choice, my right and I refused to let anyone trespass on my crown. I simply refused to allow beauty ideals not written with me in mind, to stomp on my spirit.

It was a good hair day…and it would stay that way, as I proudly strutted back to get my slice of the pie.

• ¹  Natural – By definition, natural hair hasn’t been altered by chemical straighteners or texturizers.
• ² Do – Slang and noun for hairdo 
• ³ Only 8 states have enacted the law that prohibits race-based hair discrimination. Learn more @ www.thecrownact.com or https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Discrimination_based_on_hair_texture
• Cartoon created by my brother, Eugene Welsh