I began styling hair for willing friends when I was a young teen. By then, I had already cut my own hair several times. I can remember sneaking into my Mom’s bathroom, where all the accoutrements of glamorous hair were kept, and cutting, then styling my friends’ hair. Most of the time, it worked out quite well.
Now, through parenting three vastly different girls, my skill with hair has been put to use. In Kristin, I found an extremely willing participant; the only obstacle being the tangled web of curls that we faced on a daily basis. But her laissez-faire attitude allowed me to experiment with various techniques and further my prowess. That was good, because as soon as Laurèn was old enough to ‘tell me what to do’ (which incidentally was a lot sooner that I had thought possible), my hair styling days were over. Well, temporarily over. Faven joined our family in September of 2009 and I would soon come to realize that I was tangled up in a new set of strands.
In ignorant bliss, while waiting (and waiting) for the adoption process to be completed, I envisioned some one-on-one time with my Ethiopian daughter creating sleek locks, fancy braids and adorable curls. Then I met Faven - and her hair. Each tiny, tangled, tress was coiled tighter than a dreadlock on a Rasta! I agonized, I labored, and each day I awoke to Faven, imploring me to tame her hair. She wanted it straightened, which took me two or three hours; she wanted it braided, I could not even get a brush through her hair to separate one section from another. Then, while I hesitantly put my fingers to the test, Faven, with fingers trained from birth, rapidly pulled and twisted on the opposite side creating small, tidy braids faster than I could even separate three pieces. Faven’s fingers worked deftly within the hair, whereas I hovered cautiously above looking for a place to start. It reminded me of learning to ski moguls in my 20’s; someone told me to envision the first two turns then take a deep breathe and go for it; it was equal parts skill and guts. Hair, like skiing, comes with choices and risks: bumps, twists and turns, or long, smooth, flat terrain.
Recently at Shopper’s Drug Mart while stocking up for holidays, I glanced up and saw on the aisle marker the words: Ethnic Hair. I went curiously forth, not looking for anything in particular when I saw it – a home hair-relaxing kit for children. My senses tingled with apprehensive delight as I remembered my own Mom applying at-home Toni perms. I tossed the box into my cart with an exuberant (yet ignorant) glee. Faven was delighted, assuming that she would soon look just like the girl on the box cover with sleek, straight and shining black hair. It was during our July holiday in Summerland that I pulled the box out, and the experiment began. I had no idea what I was doing. But that had never stopped me before! Further, Faven encouraged me as if I were the top stylist in Canada! Though purchasing the box was easy, the follow through was more difficult. Faven’s natural hair is exquisite; it sparkles and shines with a golden hue atop her deep-brown, coiled locks. It is however, like my girl herself, extremely strong, occasionally rebellious, and very difficult for either of us to manage. Faven’s hair would easily and willingly form unwieldy, matted dreadlocks, which would require no work at all. However, Faven, like many other ten or twelve year old girls has a picture of something else in her head. Over our months together, and through many hours of washing, brushing, twisting, clipping, braiding, straightening, and curling I have started to see what that picture is.
This spring, while visiting family in Eastern Canada, a brief conversation around relaxing
Afro-textured hair got me thinking. The result is this personal essay. The debate about whether it should be worn naturally or altered is long standing – historical. Africans and their descendants have been experimenting with hairstyles (at least) since their arrival in the Western Hemisphere. Few would argue that it was the African Diaspora, brought on by the slave trade that caused the move away from traditional styles and towards Western ones. The argument in the late 1800’s was that it rose out of a desire to conform to a “Eurocentric standard of beauty”
. It is hard to imagine the devastation faced by the people who were unwittingly shipped across an ocean to a new and challenging life, a place with widespread prejudice and racial discrimination. The constant criticism and lack of acceptance may well have prompted the movement for change – towards a more acceptable style.
In the recent conversation, there was the notion that relaxing an African girl's hair (in present day) was counter-cultural. There is much written on this topic and I cannot justly reiterate all the work and knowledge out there. However, I believe there are opinions, which are not based in personal experience or on present-day circumstances, but in supposition and historical perspective. When does the historical cause of a shift in culture or style cease to be relevant for the subsequent generations? Also, it seems that Caucasian people are more sensitive to and critical of other Caucasian people’s treatment of or effect on Black people.
Well I am in a tremendous position of effect right now, being a parent in a mixed race family. But I don’t look at it that way. Despite the challenges we might have with hair, it is truly not complicated. Hair is just hair. It gets cut; it grows. It is one color, then another. It is curly, then straight, straight, then curly. In the beginning there is none, and then some, and then, perhaps, none again. The shape, color, texture and density are part of our unique make-up – but given the gift of free will, it is something that we can change, virtually on a whim. Our appearance forms part of our identity and our identity is ever changing. There is not one snapshot that describes who we were, who we are and who we will become. Hair is simply one characteristic that identifies us with a particular ethnic group or race. Changing that feature doesn’t change our ethnic or cultural background, but illuminates what we as individuals (momentarily) identify with.
The world is a medley of diversity. That is how it is meant to be. Moreover, humans have been gifted with free will, regardless of whether circumstances allow the exercising of it. For as long as we have existed, there has been desire. Desire for food, desire for love, desire for happiness, . . . and desire for attractiveness, for change. It is not unusual then to admire a physical characteristic of another, and want it for yourself, to simply try-it-on and feel the effect. Hair is just one of those characteristics.
I did manage to make my child happy that day, despite my nervousness and warnings to her that it might not work out as planned. She envisioned that she would look like her older sister Kristin, not with straight hair, but with loose curls. Truthfully, her hair more resembled that of an Afghan dog, but she really liked it. I have no idea if I made a mistake that day, and it doesn’t really matter. I have personally survived many hair mishaps, and so will she. Perhaps that is more of a North American privilege. Through adoption Faven now has access to the abundance a stable family and community can provide: abundant love, abundant shelter, abundant education, abundant medical care, abundant food, and yes, abundant hair products. With abundance comes choice, and I have no doubt that Faven will, over time, continue to want to fit in while also celebrating the unique and beautiful being that she is – fearfully and wonderfully made.
