We Really Don’t Know

Love

I consider myself a very proficient and passionate cosmetologist. When one asks me what do I love most; hair, skin or nails? I always reply, “I love them all equally.” And I can honestly tell you, I truly do. It is not uncommon that most beauty professionals have had a passion for hair since they were five or six years old. Many tell stories of playing with their doll’s hair, mom’s hair and even dad’s hair. I also worked with one hair stylist who said, "I was hair stylist before I was born and I will be a hair stylist when I come back." Yeah, I know!

Many are surprise to learn that despite my extreme passion for my career as a cosmetologist, I was never the one to want to get my hair combed and look pretty when I was growing up. As a woman of color with extremely textured hair, I never knew what to do to my hair when I was growing up. My mom did not even allow me to touch my hair until I was at least 13 years old. 

Many people are surprised at just how little most people with textured hair do not know what to do with it. For those who grew up with straight hair and could jump in the pool, shower or just whip it up into a pony tail; I say (in my whining voice), “Not fair!” I had no clue of what was on the top of my head. I grew up totally afraid of it and never in a million years did I want to touch it; let alone grow up and get paid to do it.

Growing up, there were many confusing stereotypes when it came to hair in our family, community and culture. The first stereotype was that darker skinned people of color had thicker, hard, kinkier and shorter hair. The second stereotype was that lighter skinned people of color had finer, softer, wavier and longer hair. In our home that stereotype did not fit. My mom who is very very brown had a short soft Afro. My brothers had big Jackson Five Afro’s. My sister had this soft spongy hair. And I had, I do not have a clue. I can tell you my hair made Chaka Khan’s look like Rapunzel. 

My mother was straight from the era of the Black Panthers and the Black Nationalists. We lived in the “yellows.” It’s a King Kennedy thang, you wouldn’t understand it! We would sit around and wait for the Black Nationalists to walk through our projects and do their drill marches. “Way cool,” is what always came to mind whenever I saw them march. With that scenario, one can easily conclude that hair care was not priority one on my mom’s agenda. She never knew what to do with my hair. As a matter of fact all she would do is fuss. Fuss about how thick it was. Fuss about how I never would sit still. Fuss at how I would scream bloody murder to my grandparents. She fussed so much one time til she blamed my father for my "wretched hair." My mom was tiny and my hair was like “The Blob.” It simply swallowed her up. 

As the years went on, she figured it out. With all that grease, water, lotion and brushes; she got it together. It was actually, the brush that eventually did the trick. Many of women of color can all testify how “the brush” was the pivotal point of getting our combed and done. What type of brush am I referring to? The “pop you upside your head brush if you don’t sit still.” It worked like a charm! After getting popped in the head so much, I finally sat still long enough for my mom to do something. That something was mostly corn rows. We could never say “French braids.” My mom would always remind my sister and myself that, “the French didn’t invent shit. Excuse my French. But corn rows are from Africa. Americans call the braids corn rows because that is what they look like on your head; a row of corns. So stop giving the French credit for something they did not invent” Feisty little woman she was.

My story is very similar if not identical to most women of color who grew up in America. Not many of our parents knew what to do with our hair, because our hair was so very different from theirs. I cannot even imagine what it must have been like or is like if the parent was White; their child was Black or if the parent was White; their child was White and has a lot of texture. I would have to write another blog for that topic. 

Hair care is challenging to say the least. If many of us grew up not knowing what to do with our hair one can really see the importance of a well-trained, experienced and educated cosmetologist. There continues to be many myths and practices of what to do you with textured hair. Back in the day, it was kinky. Today it is textured. Whatever we call it, the time has come for more readily available education and training so we can help families out, because they really do not know. Trying to figure out how to care for a child's hair that is very different from yours is like trigonometry...help! 

I look forward to the day when a Afro mannequin is included in a cosmetology kit and corn row braiding is required on the state board cosmetology examination. Until then parents across America, good luck. If you have the time and money a salon or beauty school can be of some assistance.

If all else fails, there is thee old “brush” method….lol!