Calamity Jane - My Forever Protector

A deeply fulfilling and visceral dream (featuring an indescribably hot man with the lips of Morris Chestnut, the body of Tyson - including the tattoos, and the intellectual swagger of Obama) is punctuated by a narcissistic breeze to the scalp and a strange chill in the bones. Stunned to wake it’s not your partner that you seek but your headscarf surreptitiously strewn to your side.

I’ve heard it referred to in many ways (tights, scarf, do-rag, bandana, cloth). The most offensive being my former flatmate who found it quite the adjustment to move in with me and all my ‘peculiar’ habits, including my ‘nasty head rag’ as he coined it. … Over time (I wore him down by wearing it at every opportunity) he came to accept it and now adds it to the long list of bewildering things he puts down to race (including the copious amounts of cocoa butter that can be found in my bathroom at any one time).

The headscarf is more than a source of preventing the unruly baby hair from fluffing up and cutting short the lifespan of a respectable hair style. It’s your friend, your comforter, your perfect acceptance of yourself.

It’s with you in moments of joy and rage… I recall my friend Yinka on one of her regular ‘nights in’ flicking between My Wife and Kids and the on goings of her street via the strategically positioned gap between her curtains. Taking neighbourhood watch to new extremes, Yinka is prone to sitting on her sofa, headscarf adorned, glasses on for maximum focus in her house clothes (ladies we all know what that means – the holey jogging suit that only the man you are to marry will ever see, the mismatching socks and misshapen, discoloured t-shirt that you can’t bring yourself to bin with I love NY splattered on the front from your trip to America ten years ago) watching the patrons of the Ghanaian restaurant (which they spell ‘restrant’ and has so few customers Yinka has decided is a front for laundered money) and the neighbouring Congolese video store (which evidence I am yet to decipher, has led her to believe is conducting child exorcisms)  leave via her private car park. On one such occasion one patron who was ‘illegally’ parked in her bay (according to the letter she had concocted in the name of her management agent and stuck on the car windscreen), and had the gall to throw litter in front of her home. Blinded by rage Yinka wasted no time powering down ten flights of stairs (still in her house clothes) headscarf as full protection (psychologically anyway) to let it be known that his actions were ‘unacceptable’. What a scene to behold! Lucky she didn’t have her catapult (her words, not mine) or there would have been some serious repercussions.

It’s with you in the moments of pain and anguish…. Or as in this instance it was the lack of the headscarf that caused the pain and anguish. I recall reading an article in the Metro in which a young black woman who was dating a white man was writing in to ask (The Metro of all things) when was the right time to introduce him to the headscarf. I laughed out loud (so of course in compliance with tube etiquette everyone looked away from me in case I was crazy). You can imagine it – the roots starting to grow, the next relaxer not due for another two weeks and you going to bed snuggled up to your man, with your hair lying as flat as the new growth will allow, only to wake up (earlier than him as there’s work to be done before he can see you and recognise you) to find it standing stiff on its ends (as God intended) and no amount of wax, hair pomade or moose will make it rest the way a night of a tightly wrapped headscarf would do. The time for the introduction my friend is now!... If only for an extra thirty minutes in bed.

The headscarf has marked seminal moments in my life….. The pre-pubescent tights my mum would cut up and cover my hair with, insisting I wear at slumber parties amid girls whose limited experiences (Milton Keynes circa 1986) led to comparisons between my braids and caterpillars (cornroll) or weeds (the single plaits). Charming!

Twenty two years later and another seminal moment is marked by the headscarf. This time it’s the morning after Obama’s presidential victory and I recall vividly jumping off my sofa, headscarf flailing, and dancing the running man, with a hint of MC Hammer as a symbol of my ecstasy. Kobi,( a friend) and I would often joke about how well Michelle Obama must wrap her scarf at night as her hair, (even pre stylist) was always perfectly bump free. And if Russell Simmons were to do an ‘Obama’s House’ spin off (of ‘Run’s House’) did we think Michelle would appear in the morning for breakfast in the White House dining room in her PJs and matching headscarf?.. Imagine the furore…Clearly Kobi and I had too much time on our hands.

Ladies it’s time to wear our headscarf with pride and make the people (including men) in our lives accept it as we have. It doesn’t warrant being hidden away like some dirty secret between friends. No more jumping to attention when there’s a knock at the door, whipping it off and stuffing it down the side of the couch before making a bee line for any reflective surface available. Let the brothers see it, they have mothers and sisters don’t they? And for the non black men, for whom this is all new, let it be one of our ‘exotic’ charms.

Calamity Jane

Kinky Nikz 2.0 - Hmmmm… Wig you say?

This week I wanted to touch on an interesting area that I happened to have stumbled upon in discussion twice during the week. Interestingly, the topic of wigs came up during a semi-intoxicated chat following Friday drinks at work and the discussion focused around ridiculous hairstyles.

A friend recalled a time in school when a girl came back from the Caribbean with her straight Caucasian hair in braids with beads swinging fiercely at the ends. As a result of her new experimental ‘hair do’ she was promptly made to take her hair out or risk being suspended from school. The argument on her part (and rightly so may I add) was one of discrimination. How was it that the black girls were permitted to wear braids but she was not? It’s obvious that the girl was criticised because her hairstyle was seen as only acceptable for black girls. It was probably deemed odd for her to attend school with her ‘holiday hair’. Whatever the reason though, it got me thinking about the hairstyles that black men and women choose to wear.
Wigs are huge business these days, long gone are the days when they were just used for medical reasons or for high powered barristers to decipher importance in court or for the judge to pass sentence, gabble in hand. In fact, often, even those that lose hair through illness are the ones that may now wear their bald heads proudly.

However, in 2010, wigs are all about making a fashion statement. You can craft a specific look without suffering your own hair. I mean mega star, Lady Gaga is the queen of wigs and Christina Aguilera and Pink are both patent heirs to her thrown. When entertainers do don a wig it’s all a bit jovial and entertaining, so why am I almost embarrassed at the sight of a black woman on the street in a wig? 

Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of wigs that look great on some women but there is a certain type of wig that makes me cringe. The wigs that are glued onto a stocking cap, stocking foot or person’s head and sometimes directly onto their hair. You know the ones that are so shiny it looks like a head full of PVC? And you’re often left wondering why on earth they’ve gone out with a piece of black bag stuck to their heads. I mean seriously, fix up! I’m not really concerned with how much it all cost because regardless of the cost, it looks funny…literally, funny!!

Okay, let’s give it constructive critical look, would it be considered ‘normal’ for a white woman to don a black afro?

The answer is No. Why? Because frankly, it looks silly and unless it was for fancy dress, you wouldn’t find a white woman seriously trying to work a fake fro as if it were her hair. However, as black women we do it all the time.

Why is easier to find an image of a black women in a blonde wig wearing it as if were her own than it is to find a white woman doing the same?
It’s unfortunate that we have been too long conditioned to believe that long, straight, limp hair is beautiful and hair that grows upwards is unruly, unkempt and needs to be tamed. The mindset is the same all over the globe; where there is a television set and media broadcasts there will be Western philosophies and ideals that project a predetermined norm on a culture that doesn’t fit.

The lengths that some women go to have long and seemingly luxurious hair, sometimes at the expense of their own head of hair and sometimes scalp have and will not change. For some people (both men and women) natural hair just doesn’t reflect the image they are trying to project.

Look at what Naomi Campbell has done to herself. The struggle to live up to a standard that isn’t her default ‘norm’ is disheartening and as a black women I’m saying; ‘just let your soul glow’ and make decisions based on knowledge not popularity.

Of course, I may be biased with my nappy curls. I totally appreciate that variety is what makes life interesting but don’t be caught up/out in your own ignorance, be aware of the decisions you make and perhaps that new hairstyle won’t cost you your pride or maybe even your hair.

Controversial? Chime in and let me know your thoughts.

As always, Peace Love and Nappyness xx