Thinking about that statement makes me think she was thinking from a feminine place where women show pride and a more resilient character. Well I am a man. There is no pride to hide other than ego, and if you know anything about ego – an ego doesn’t hide. So here we are dreaded with a twist, I have a style now. Maybe for a day or two or maybe longer. But my hair on the top and sides are pulled back in a braided style. My dreads are probably no longer than 4 inches, so my choice in styles are limited. I digress, I find that I am very much my hair. And my style is very much apart of the overall picture of who I am as a man. I cannot detach from my hair or compartmentalize what you see. Because when you look at me it is the whole picture whether I like it or not. So India’s lyrics doesn’t resonate wholly with me. With a braided style I feel more ethnic, more black. I can explain. When I was bald there was an escapism correlated with my blackness because my hair was none existent. With locks, there
is an element that is apart of my hair and its kinky nature that is inescapable. It’s the Siamese twins factor, we are inseparable with out taking huge risk. In this case to say I am not my hair would suggest I am not fully aware or responsible for all things apart of me…huge risk! So I when my stylist pulled my hair back in a stereotypical style and asked me if I liked it. I said,” Yeah.” [The slowness in my response was like my palate absorbing all the flavoring in an old wine. It took a minute to recalibrate my eyes around the image in the mirror and to respond to her.] There was a blackness I had never seen before in me. It stemmed from my hair. I was my hair. I was beautiful at that moment. I am beautiful in this moment. I realized that the beauty of the moment was that I really saw me.