I will admit, as a child and teenager, I saw braids as something negative. In fact, anything that was not natural hair - meaning grown from your follicles - was viewed as negative. My elders saw braids as too "Afrocentric," or adapting a culture that truly wasn't our own. I mean, for many of the Blacks I grew up with, so much focus was placed on how Indian you could claim you were, or how much you could pass for White to get the better jobs, better spouses, and better homes. There wasn't space for anything that didn't reflect a neatly polished, assimilated look. So, pressed hair (using a pressing comb or roller set), relaxers, and sometimes the unspoken weave and wig were acceptable means of wearing hair. They gave you the look of straight, smooth hair everyone was taught in segregation was required to be accepted into White society. NOTE: Just don't go near the water. Figures were nipped and tucked into smooth lines to reflect similar shapes of the White magazines. The wide hips, full breasts, and curvy bottoms were smooshed into place to keep you from looking "too Black," so you could be included in highbrow events - even with other "colored" people. And you never married (or tried to avoid marrying) someone "too dark," with "bad hair," so your children could blend in more with easy-to-manage-hair, fairer complexions, and toned figures. If you didn't fit the assimilated look of the better off Coloreds, you received somewhat of an acceptance that came with smiles of pity, and the occasional comment that maybe you could "marry up," so you're children were not as dark as you or had coarse hair like you or even had more "athletic" figures than you.
It sounds farfetched, but it was my mother and grandmother's realities. As my grandmother's marriage was looked down on, not because he was a philandering douche, but because he was "too dark." Her parents would have her pray for a divorce so their may be hope she repented of her poor choice in partner and the misfortune of darker skin her children were cursed with. My mother, on the other hand, married a man who very light-skinned. His heritage was so mixed, he had a sister with blue eyes. I grew up with cousins who looked like they were more from South India than African-American with their darker skin tones and wavy hair, and at the other end of the spectrum, cousins who could pass for young Aborigines with their white and olive complexions and coarse, red or blonde hair. Throughout my childhood, I could see in many circles where these cousins and even my sister and myself were viewed as acceptable but my mother was not. She was adamant that we retain our natural hair, only pressing, and then later agreeing to a relaxer to make hair management easier.
It wasn't until I was thinking about having my first child, that I thought about getting braids. It was met with a lot of opposition in my family. Braids still reminded them of the ghetto - low IQ, stereotypes, and a low socioeconomic status. Even worse, there was a mindset that tied it in to "pickaninnies," or vaudeville, even slavery. These were not the images they felt would secure my success in the world, much less my status at work. I had "good hair," I was often told, so why would I want to wear a style that didn't show it? One simple fact - ease of care. Regardless of how "good" my hair was, washing, drying, flat ironing, and styling my hair, even with a relaxer could take hours. The chemicals of the relaxer are also not the best thing to have on your head much less the possibilities of its effects on an unborn child. My sway came in my younger sister who does NOT have "good" hair, and thus, my mother thought braids may be a viable option for her as well.
So, my journey with braids began. Outside of the costs (anywhere from $140 - $240 with tip plus the cost of hair, another $30-$70) and the time to get them done (approximately 6-14 hours), braids were a blessing I wish I had discovered in college. Gone were the $75-$120, 2-hour bimonthly appointments! I could get my hair done every three months, so the time and financial costs evened out. So long were my hour-long morning prep work, fighting to find a style that looked halfway decent! Good-bye to the endless shedding caused by stress, dry follicles, and chemical wear-and-tear! Braids were a new freedom in how to get my hair done, and I was happy I chose it. I wasn't the only one who felt positively about it either. To my surprise, many people liked my braids. I got tons of compliments, which was quite shocking to me. This was not the reaction I was raised to expect. Where was the anti-assimilation backlash? Where were the racial slurs muttered under the breath? It really got me thinking about what previous generations of African-Americans are teaching their children versus what others think about African-Americans.
That wasn't the only point I started to ponder. On my most recent return to braids, I really started to study the new shop I chose to patronize. In all the talk about how society encourages a homogenous image of slightly tanned - but not black - skin tone, a fit physique free of excessive curves, long and slender faces, and something that passes as a little more than White but not quite ethnic enough to be Asian, Latino, Indian, or Black, I encourage all those with self-image issues to visit a braid salon. Mine in particular is located in the heart of an historic town that used to be predominantly farmers. Across the street is a bar that caters mainly to White people. In the same building, on the lower level is a Black barber shop and salon as well as a Latino night club. It is catacorner to a building that houses a nail salon owned by a Korean family and a haute couture bridal salon owned by one of the most beautiful African-American women I have ever met.
The salon itself is run by a young woman from Togo, Africa. She is short, curvy and vivacious. Her employees are from Cameroon, Togo, Senegal and Niger. Their unifying factor is they all speak French. There are differences in personality, shape and mannerisms, and they are all beautiful. The walls are covered with posters, many with a pink background showing the different weaves, braids, twists, and cornrows (yes, they are all different things) available in the salon. Illustrated are styles with human hair, synthetic hair, kinky hair, and heat-infused waves. But it's not just the employees, patrons, or styles that vary. It's the models used to represent the styles. There are full faces, long faces, slender-figured models, full-figured models; children with "good hair," children with "nappy hair;" attire that reflect African culture, Westernized culture, and throwback looks. There are a variety of skin tones (yes! Even White people), and a variety of physical characteristics.
Being in that salon is a lesson in self-acceptance and self-appreciation. My five-year-old daughter later told me how beautiful all the women were in the posters and in the shop. She told me how beautiful my hair was and how she was excited we could now both have "Elsa braids." My very White looking daughter, with her blue eyes and honey-colored wavy hair, did not see the braids through a negative scope. She saw the fun and joy of looking more like her mommy. I learned more about accepting myself in that shop than I have learned in 36 years. My daughter told me recently she like the shop because, "it shows that God liked when people are different." I hope this is something she carries with her for the rest of her life. And something I hope more of society can learn AND project in images that appear other places than a braid shop or ethnic magazine.
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