“Black Futures” & Black History Month: A Collaborative Journey
RECAP of WEEK 2: February 8th – 12th, 2021
Aw, nah… HAIR, NAH! Y’all done up and done it. You touched my hair, you asked about my hair as if it was an alien that had taken over my head, you pointed at it like it was behind glass at the zoo… Why?!?
As artist @momopixels says; “You have no authority here, over this body, how it lives or how it looks.”
My hair is something that I struggled with for decades. It was a love-hate relationship, right down to the core of my being. How could something that I had zero control over be such a defining part of my IDENTITY . How could something like my hair be such a confusing and often tormenting reminder about how much of my own identity I did not yet know or better yet, understand.
The same feature that quickly drew people in… was even more quickly the reason I pushed them out. Including the person in my own mirror.
“Just shave it all off… “
I did just that. Twice. When you’re 9 years old walking through crowded city streets in Japan and your hair is being groped by strangers while you’re being stared at… you don’t realize in that moment that it’s for having something they all wish they had. When the only people you know who’s hair even resembles yours are men or you’re told at the hair salon and even by your own family “I just don’t know what to do… I’ve never worked with hair LIKE THIS before. Let’s just try some things out!”. It can feel as if your body was a science experiment. Eventually, you grow weary of being “unique”. You decide “if they’re going to stare at me anyway… I’ll give them a real reason to.” You shave it. All of it. Off.
My series “Patterns” is about the struggle to accept, embrace and love unconditionally the human in the mirror AND their hair. To honor the patterns handed down, the ones you never chose, embedded in your DNA. Even if you don’t yet know what to do with them or if they’re Type 2’s, 3’s or 4’s.
For a long time I tried to figure out whose job my hair was. Who was supposed to know what to do with my hair? My mother? My father? My Nana? Me? Don’t get me wrong, they tried. Brushes, combs, every kind of hair care product you can imagine. Braids, buns, poofs, bobby pins, cotton ribbons. Oils, balms, conditioners, PINK lotions, butters. Protective styles, fewer wash days or more. Ultimately, I spent almost 3 decades learning how to both “manage” & love my hair.
In the end, my journey to “figure out” my hair was one I am glad took time. It forced me to examine my IDENTITY. Where did this hair come from? I began to realize that every kink, curl and texture; told a story. As I learned about curl patterns, braids, bonnets, oils, creams, lotions, balms, co washes, wash days… each piece taught me more about myself. I met people I never would have otherwise. We bonded over hair tools, hair care, weaves, wigs and natural looks. We lamented, often debated, over which style was worth the time or the money. We talked about our routines, tips for dying, for wash & go styling and who was the best person to even let come near your scalp (especially if you’re tender headed, thankfully I’m not!).
What started out as something I used to grasp by the fistfuls and cry into the mirror over, I now sit up a little taller in my chair even thinking about how proud I am of. I LOVE MY HAIR!
You still can’t touch it though.
Please continue to join me on this journey through the month of February and beyond. As we explore together the layered beauty that is the Black voice. Past, present and future; Blackness is infinite…
DC Based Artist & Educator
Corcoran College of Art + Design Alumni
Always painting, usually writing, making a living out of making art; I make my art work.
