Assimilate

I’m going through the “change of life” complete with hot flashes that leave the back of my head soaking wet from simple things like walking my dog around the block. I’ve been debating for a while about how to handle this as I prepare to go back to work outside of the house. It has more so become an issue since I stopped perming my hair. It wasn’t a conscious decision, but I just got lazy when no one was looking at me regularly and the next thing I knew, it was half straight and half kinky.

I am probably the last woman in my family and my friend group to get off the “creamy crack”, as we jokingly refer to chemical relaxers used to straighten our hair because until recent years, “kinky” hair was socially unacceptable. However, here in Charlotte I had not been successful in finding a hair stylist that will work with black hair that is chemically processed.

I watched my girlfriends through their transitions to natural hair and I’ve spent countless hours helping to braid or twist my son’s hair when they decided to let their hair grow long, but as for me… I never considered anything other than what I’ve always done but never really considered why until last week.

I watched a phenomenal sermon, preached by Sarah Jakes Roberts, titled Outside the System.

Although the main message is about the behavioral systems of survival that we have created to function in life, she started by explaining the dilemma that has arisen in corporate environments described as “code switching”, which is an issue mainly affecting workers from black and brown communities, where they have to change their dialect, tone of voice, the way they dress and even how they wear their hair to assimilate to the unspoken traditional Caucasian standards of professionalism.

There were so many valuable takeaways in that message for people of all backgrounds, but it made me examine what systems that I have created both conscious and unconscious that limit my success. This leads me back to my hair. I have basically had the same hairstyle my entire adult life. Adding some layers and color is as exotic as it goes. I thought it was because I liked it. I also needed my hair to be at least ponytail length because I like low maintenance EVERYTHING. However, taking a deeper dive in the underlying issues, I recall the childhood hurt associated with having thick, bushy hair.

There were numerous tongue lashings that occurred if I got my hair wet or sweat too much playing after having spent hours washing, drying, and straightening it with a pressing comb. In my grandmother’s house, she had 7 daughters and at least 10 granddaughters close to my age at that time, so it was an assembly line production to get hair done before church on Sundays. We’d have to lay on the kitchen counter and put our head in the sink for our hair to be washed. Then for hours you could smell the stench of burning hair and Afro Sheen hair grease from the pressing comb next to the stove. Oh, the memories. Then my white friends would innocently say stuff like, “I think your hair is neat. It stays exactly where you put it and you don’t even need hair spray.” However, in my adult life, I recall the conclusions that I drew having been in rooms during conversations analyzing applicant’s employability through assimilation, carefully choosing their words to not appear to be judging their appearance. Yet, at home submitting to the standards and restrictions placed on me regarding my hair, which included that it had to be a minimum length and be able to run your fingers through it.

I can’t say how many times white friends have asked me if it’s true that black women don’t swim or hate water? Yep, it’s true because water is the enemy of black hair since it takes lots of money and/or multiple hours to get it back to the socially acceptable look, so in most cases, it just isn’t worth it.

Then as crimes against young black men like Trevon Martin became more common, targeted for wearing a hoodie at night in a private neighborhood, fear allowed me to fall into the trap of insisting that my sons always had an “Even Steven” haircut and would never be seen in public with a hoodie as not to appear to be a threat in the community that we lived in.

All of this to say that I now understand the systems of limitations that I’ve created to function in this world, at least regarding hair. BUT yesterday I did a thing. I got my hair braided for the summer to give me a carefree, hot flash proof hair style. There was no one to tell me what I couldn’t do, however I woke up tossing and turning the night before my appointment, terrified that the impression I’ll make at the job interview (scheduled for Monday) could be negatively impacted by my new do. It stressed me to the point that I almost cancelled my hair appointment, BUT GOD reminded me that what’s for me is for me, regardless of my hairstyle and that was yet another mindset that I needed to break free from.

So, I started people watching and looking at black hair styles on TV, etc. that helped me grow my confidence to be comfortable in my appearance “outside the system”. To my surprise after I got my new hairstyle, I got nothing but compliments from people of all racial backgrounds and oddly enough, I pulled my hair into a bun to walk the dog and the weight of the added hair on my head made me walk taller, as if I were wearing a crown. I’m sure that sounds silly, but it changed me, and I’d also say it freed me in a way that a week ago I didn’t know I needed.

I don’t know if I’m ALL IN on the natural hair journey, but God still never ceases to amaze me!

Until next time…