I'm still amazed at the wonderment that Black hair causes domestically and internationally. My experiences have taught me that with most things culturally, people are genuinely interested and ignorant when it comes to difference.
Thus, a black woman's hair! So, in an effort to maintain a low maintenance hair style this summer, I decided to have my hair braided with extensions. My cousin Alexis, who'd just returned from a trip to China told me about how they were approached by Chinese people who just couldn't restrain themselves for asking the ol' infamous question: can I touch your hair? I'm sure most (if not, all) Black women have encounter this at one point in their lives.
My first experience of having "black hair" was when I was about eight. My church was affiliated with a group of Church of God churches who arranged for their youth to attend summer camp. Well, my church was the only black church. So, year and after year (before I decided and refused to go) most of the black girls from my church would have our hair braided and beaded for the week of summer camp. My mother, being queen of braiding our hair weekly, made sure we had a head full of fresh braids before our departure. No sooner had we unpacked our sleeping bags did we start to receive inquisitive looks from our blue, grey and green eyed counterparts. A day or two would usually go by as they stole looks out of the corner of their eyes, before an activity of the day usually bonded us in some form in which they finally felt comfortable enough to ask: can I touch your hair? Unaware of the enigma that our hair produced, we would usually shrug our shoulders and mumble: I don care... We would soon be surrounded by a circle of girls who gently tugged and pulled and commented on our beads. I can remember feeling strange, like some foreign specimen unaware of its uniqueness, although, I didn't feel angry the girls in their innocence, really seemed interested and nice. They always told us how "cool" it was and asked if we could do theirs. My sister often declined, but me, following in the footsteps of my braid artist mother, would usually agree. I did my best to try and grab the fine, straight hairs and usually ended up producing a loose, unappealing braid, which I would adorn with a bead or two to try and compensate.
Well, here I was in Bangalore, older, much wiser but still rockin' the braids. I was waiting in the narrow aisle of the plane when an Indian man who'd been watching me closely, finally asked: your hair, you do? I smiled and shook my head no as I said: I pay someone. He then said: how long last? I replied: ummm depends...I hope two months. He replied: mmhhmmm as he continue to study my hair. He then said: then you unbraid and braid back. I smiled and shook my head yes. I then turned my back to politely imply that I was finish with the conversation. I heard him say: nice. I gave a smile and a quick thanks.
So, this weekend Nikki was excited to visit the Jungle Lodge Elephant Training Camp. I'm not a wood-sy kind of gal, but hey, washing an Elephant, at least it would be an experience. After a horrifying night of dogs howling and elephants...making whatever the hell noise it is that they make, we were in the swamps to wash us some good ol' elephants. Not wanting to take off my shoes which offered protection from the elephant manure, I opted to play the role of the photographer as Nikki lived out her dreams of an elephant washer. After she had completed her task, we then went to the next section of the training camp, which, included feeding the elephants. Once again, I declined to place the peanuts in the mouth of the saliva dripping elephant. Poised with my camera to record Nikki, an Indian woman approaches Nikki and compliments her on her hair. I had corn-rowed her head the previous week. The woman asked Nikki, if she did it, she replied no and informed them that I had braided it. The woman who appeared to be the mother/grandmother of the clan asked me if I would show her. She then tried to volunteer her granddaughter, who adamantly refused and stated: no...no...I don't want to...I don't want. Fine with me. I returned my attention back to Nikki as she was now petting the baby elephant. An Indian woman who appeared to be in her early thirties approached me and asked me where I'm from. I replied: Chicago. She stated that she was from Boston. Her mother (I assume) had not accepted the fact that she was not going to be able to see how I created that style in Nikki's hair. She then said: you show me on her? As she pointed to Nikki. I started to feel a little objectified for some strange reason (perhaps, because her granddaughter had refused my hands in her hair), I said: no. I can't take her hair down and re-braid it. She nodded as if she understood my position, she said: you braid mine? I thought, is this old nice Indian woman serious? Does she really want me to corn-row her hair in the middle of this Elephant jungle? Hell, why not? So, I began to show her daughter how I separate and braid the hair. Her entire family, men, included surrounded me, as the girls from the camp had done to me as a little girl, and watched me as I corn-rowed their grandmother's hair. The grandmother then elatedly told her husband (I assume he was the husband) to look as she excitedly pointed to the side of her hair. He then makes an exclamation and everyone's talking (of course, I understand none of what's being said) however, their body languages tells me that everyone is giddy over this braid in her hair. The grandfather then motions for me to remove my hat so that he can see my hair. His daughter, the lady from Boston begins to translate. He wanted to know how long it would take to braid whole head. I tell him an hour, but only because I'm fast. Everyone smiles, nods their head and laugh. He then points to my hair and said: you don't wash? The daughter from Boston, quickly intercedes as I assume she assumes that this question may be offensive to me. She quickly states: no, they wash, you can wash them. Her eyes look nervous as I gently smile to her and then turn to the grandfather and say: yes, I wash them. He states: ooohhh and gives his daughter a look that said: what did i say wrong?
At times, this question, similar to the: can I touch your hair use to enrage me. However, the more and more I learn and study culture, the more equipped I am to handle these encounters with "black hair." Sometimes, I can act in a sharing, teaching way that I did this day at the camp or at others I can simply say: hell naw, you can't touch my hair. It just depends on how I'm approached and what mood I'm in.
So, black women. some things don't change. Our hair, the thing that we most relish and despise continues to be our source of triumph and fear.
(Check out the pics)
11 comments:
I am loving it! These are the moments I was envisioning when I said take those extra tapes for the camcorder!! Miss you!!!
Wow . . . I was kind of stunned to read about the summer camp experience - because I think we were there together! (Although, I didn't have the braids done beforehand, and caught the worst of the inquiries from the young onlookers you mentioned. The sight of a dramatically reverted press must have been quite disturbing for the poor girls!)
After that summer at Warner Camp, another memorable experience was an awkward conversation with a former supervisor who asked "Um, how often do you wash your hair? No, see I'm not trying to judge . . .I think I might even be part black!" I loved reading this account and seeing the pictures, thanks for sending the link!
My how I agree. In Japan it was the same thing all the time. What really gave them a kick was after I took down my twists, eashed my hair, and wore a puff. WHAT!!! Again, it is just true ignorance and nothing else. They are unaware and do not know. It seemed to me that what some of us siters believes to be a curse, others would love to have. The versatility and options to do some many things. How many women have you heard complain about wanting thicker hair, curlier hair, hair that holds a style, etc. I am glad that you braided her hair. How are they with makeup? In Japan, you will notice the same lightening cremes as well as the Americanized women that dye their hair blond, get eye surgery to reduce the slant, etc. However, I realized that putting on makeup every morning was a ritual for women. They plucked their eyebrows and did all things that dealt with beauty. My host mother told me that she would not dare leave the house without her "face!"
I love this post. In addition to hair, there is a long list of things that people of other races find intriguing. I think it's kind of funny that those who look down on Blacks still desire various aspects Blackness.
I wore my hair natural for a few weeks after washing it and my trainer was absolutely amazed by it. Everyday I went into the gym she became excited and wanted everyone to look at my hair. She couldn't understand how my hair could "shrivel" like that. She then wanted to know why my hair could look a certain way when the other women in the gym hair could not. So after giving her a lesson on the different textures of black hair I think she kind of got it but she is still fascinated by it. Its just weird how we just assume that everyone just gets it because obviously they don't. I think I might give her a warning the next time I decide to wear my hair natural.
I think it depends on the profession, whether an Indian woman wears make up or not. When I'm traveling in the streets, the women I see do not wear make up. However, if you go into a business, most of the women have immaculate make up. However, it just depends because I went to a company GM dinner with Nikki and most of the women didn't have on make-up, so, maybe it just depends on the individuals. But those stewardess on the plane: their make up was fierce! I was like dang: can I get some more water just to look at their faces.
It's really interesting to me the beauty regimen of women cross-culturally. Because it appears as though every culture the woman beautify themselves in some sort of way. Whether scarring, makeup, jewelry, tattooing, etc., most women have some cultural standard of how to beautify one's self. As someone who has an interest in organic/natural products I am always keeping my eyes open for family/cultural remedies that woman use. I've been trying some natural products since I've been here. We'll see if it helps clear up my skin.
Nikki, is receiving a tremendous amount of attention from the corn rows that I did on her. Her colleagues are eager to see what I'll do next. So, we'll see the response after I do her two strand twist this weekend.
That is interesting K.W. Earley. Many things are relished and admired about Black culture while simulataneously looking down on black culture. Admiring the hair, but perhaps not the africano features (wide noses, thick lips, robust bodies, etc.) Athletic ability, but not respecting the intellects. In Kenya I was told repeatedly by students that they didn't respect Black Americans because we have "no real culture." But yet, every song that came on the radio they was hip-hop, r&b, jazz and the majority of all of their current artists tried to mimic just that! But the truth of the matter is that all cultures do this, including Black culture. How many black girls wanted "white people" hair growing up? How many wanted (and still want) lighter eyes? I think that once we start to truly love ourselves then we can appreciate the beauty and difference in others without being judgemental, envious or hateful.
lol lol Yeah Rach...I can definitely imagine their shock seeing a reverted press.
G, I knew u would start some kind of cultural journey through so-called shallow things like hair...few people remember that sometimes not big policies and theories but small things make up a particular culture. So really cool for putting this up.
Now for my actual response to your this blog. Personally I think people in India have always been very curious with Black hair because that kind of hair is not seen at all unless u r from an urban culture in India. Not an urban city but an urban culture. Normally hair will be just pulled up. It has nothing to do with looking down or looking up at Black culture but more so about intense curiosity that Indians sometimes cannot let go of. I don't even think it has anything to do with like or dislike either. Skin color will not be very controversial because Indian skin ranges from 'white caucasian' fair to deep black color.
It looks like u r having fun.
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