I remember at my corporate job, my desk faced a window (back to the rest of the floor) and this women with whom I worked grabbed a fistful of my afro puff and went, "bop," as she walked back to her desk... and I was like........???? what in the world was that?! I can't remember if I told my manager immediately (although I know I told someone at some point), but obviously nothing was done because to them it's like "who cares" or rather, "why is that a big deal."
like if someone walks up to you and grabs your tits unprovoked, unannounced, uninvited it's a violation... this is the same violation! it's a part of my body... it's ATTACHED to my body and it doesn't belong to you, nor did you get an invitation.
It was just such a weird thing... and I'm just like... what makes any human think they can just do that?! I genuinely don't get it. and even as I reflect on it right now I still don't understand.
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but your aunt story made my stomach sink. and I'm really sorry that happened. hair is a crown no matter who you are and is such an important thing about our appearance and shit like that just send me. I had a similar type of experience at daycare once, when one of the white teacher or whatever her role was decided to take out my braids. She proceeded to put me behind the door where the mirror was and laugh at me (and invited others to partake), but then quickly realised she wouldn't be able to rebraid my hair before my mum came to get me...
I'm also not sure what the outcome was in term of my mum's response, but I remember that feeling of sheer humiliation and it's just ... :( siiigh... :(
I had a similar traumatic haircut the summer before high school. I also could not maintain the style and looked so crazy. On top of this I was going to a brand new school so I can easily say that 9th grade was the absolute worst. I know that that trauma as well as antiblack narratives I was raised and socialized in also contributed to me rejecting my hair for years and being a bit of a texturist. College started my love affair with my natural hair. I started to wear my fro out for the first time. Trying twist outs and wash and gos. I now love talking about hair. Thank you for this essay. Loved reading it and feeling validated ❤️
I’ve always found Black hair to be so, so profoundly beautiful. I haven’t had the chance to be around Black people very much (given where I live + privilege) but from what I’ve seen, the care Black people have for their hair and each others’ feels so intimate and familial; I love it
I remember at my corporate job, my desk faced a window (back to the rest of the floor) and this women with whom I worked grabbed a fistful of my afro puff and went, "bop," as she walked back to her desk... and I was like........???? what in the world was that?! I can't remember if I told my manager immediately (although I know I told someone at some point), but obviously nothing was done because to them it's like "who cares" or rather, "why is that a big deal."
like if someone walks up to you and grabs your tits unprovoked, unannounced, uninvited it's a violation... this is the same violation! it's a part of my body... it's ATTACHED to my body and it doesn't belong to you, nor did you get an invitation.
It was just such a weird thing... and I'm just like... what makes any human think they can just do that?! I genuinely don't get it. and even as I reflect on it right now I still don't understand.
---
but your aunt story made my stomach sink. and I'm really sorry that happened. hair is a crown no matter who you are and is such an important thing about our appearance and shit like that just send me. I had a similar type of experience at daycare once, when one of the white teacher or whatever her role was decided to take out my braids. She proceeded to put me behind the door where the mirror was and laugh at me (and invited others to partake), but then quickly realised she wouldn't be able to rebraid my hair before my mum came to get me...
I'm also not sure what the outcome was in term of my mum's response, but I remember that feeling of sheer humiliation and it's just ... :( siiigh... :(
I had a similar traumatic haircut the summer before high school. I also could not maintain the style and looked so crazy. On top of this I was going to a brand new school so I can easily say that 9th grade was the absolute worst. I know that that trauma as well as antiblack narratives I was raised and socialized in also contributed to me rejecting my hair for years and being a bit of a texturist. College started my love affair with my natural hair. I started to wear my fro out for the first time. Trying twist outs and wash and gos. I now love talking about hair. Thank you for this essay. Loved reading it and feeling validated ❤️
I’ve always found Black hair to be so, so profoundly beautiful. I haven’t had the chance to be around Black people very much (given where I live + privilege) but from what I’ve seen, the care Black people have for their hair and each others’ feels so intimate and familial; I love it