Me, My Hair, and I

by Shawneda

  “So, first,” Breyonna pulled the lid off of her strawberry and creme delight. “When did Brielle start beating faces like Jon Jones?”

  I laughed. No one knew about Breyonna’s love for MMA fighting like I do… except her Dad. He started this mess. “Not better than your precious ‘Mighty Mouse’. I have to tell her about this new achievement she has unlocked.”

  “Whatever,” Breyonna rolled her eyes. She lifted a spoon full of yogurt then paused, “You still gonna put a relaxer in your hair? I know why I love sew-ins and wigs. My mother is the empress of fake hair. Your aunt is the queen of coils, curls, and waves. What are you thinking?”

  The scream gurgling up from the tips of my toes fizzled out under the gooey goodness of my turtle dove chocolate delight. “I have no idea what my hair looks like outside of one of her professional styles. You know my hair stays slicked, braided, and twisted to my scalp. No one with those cute coils, juicy curls, or sexy waves keeps their hair plastered down.”

  “Mmmm, true. Your Aunt would have been putting all of your curltasticness on blast every week.” Breyonna tapped the thinking spoon on her bottom lip. “So you don’t have mixed chick hair. The bushy and crinkly look is in now. No one expects all black women to have frizz free wavy hair. Those girls kill themselves trying to have a cute afro.”

  I waved my spoon at her as I tried to swallow. “Yes, they want to have thicker hair, but the emphasis is on cute. How about the people with that in between straight but not straight doesn’t curl limp, thick, bushy stuff? No one is wearing their actual natural hair who isn’t coily, curly, or wavy. They just stopped relaxing it and learned how to tame it by styling it without a perm. Girl, I’ma be bald with your Mom for real if that’s the only other option. Who has the time?”

  “True, if you want to be technical. But no one does what you’re talking about even people from other cultures with bone straight hair use products.” Breyonna ate another spoonful of yogurt.

  I sighed. “At least now, Brielle, is going to teach me how to take care of whatever is going on under all these styles and braids on my head. No way I’m gonna graduate college and do well if I’m dedicating six and seven hours a week to haircare. Girl, bye. Who even knows how or when to start teaching little black girls when to do their hair?”

  “You know you’re right. Remember, we had to do that family simulation project for science life. Every book I found about parenting focused on Caucasian or straight hair children. No black mom with a relaxer in her child’s head is brushing it for a thousand strokes. It’ll fall out. It’s weakened. None of those books talk about how to show natural hair black girls when and how to care for their hair. Thank God for YouTube.” Breyonna shook her head.

  I nodded. “I hadn’t even thought of that. Brielle said they just assumed I knew from being around the shop. Um… No! Too busy trying to make sure I qualify for an athletic or academic scholarship so I don’t end up in debt the rest of my life. I’m not joking. Going bald is becoming more of an option every day.”

  “Girl, you know you’re not cutting your hair off, so stop. Locs like ones your Aunt has or SisterLocs--”

  I shook my head. “Are not an option. No thank you, just as hard to find a good loctician as it is to find a good stylist. In a primarily White university town? Please, I’ll pass. What else you got?”

  “You want the truth or feel better?” Breyonna pretended to offer the truth in her tub of froyo and feeling better in her empty hand.

  I pointed to the truth.

  “This needs to be your next vlog topic. No, black girls in the natural hair community aren’t expected to have frizz free curls, waves, and coils anymore, but this crap is hard. I mean. For real. When are we supposed to learn how to do our hair? Who is writing that into the parenting books? So some of us have stopped pressuring each other to look like the status quo, but what about men?” Breyonna waved her thinking spoon around.

  I swallowed the spoonful of yogurt I’d just eaten. “One existential crisis at a time, Breyonna. You’re right. We’re not all buying into the curly girls only mentality, anymore. But no one is talking about when, where, why, or how to teach little natural hair girls to take care of our hair if we don’t decide to wear sew-ins and wigs. We can’t all look as fierce as your, Mom with a buzz cut.”

  “I know right. We cute or whatever… but I’m not cutting my hair off, too.” Breyonna placed her thinking spoon in the tub. “This is definitely one of those hive mind topics you can riff on for the vlog. Get them talking to you so you don’t feel like an animal in a science experiment.”

  I sighed. Breyonna knew I hated this attention more than I cared to explain. “Girl, because I’d rather be doing anything else than this but, Brielle said it’s the consequence of my action. So I have to learn to live with the result of the choices I make.”

  “Girl, you have a very wise godmother. Almost as smart as my MomNisa.” Breyonna ate a spoonful of yogurt.

  I pretended to drop my tub of frozen comfort.

  “Cute. Don’t get too excited. I said, almost. No one beats my godmother. She is the bee’s knees, as her godmother likes to say.” Breyonna chuckled. “They are so corny. Ugh, girl, you don’t think we’re gonna be as bad as they are when we become adults. Do you?”

  The thought of how corny my Mom’s sayings might be if she were still alive caused a wave of nostalgia, sadness, and love to wash over me. I’d never know. Keylisa never knew. “They’re what? You have lost it. Ms. Maya is a stunner and from what you say she keeps Anisa on her toes. If that’s bad, girl, corny is the new cool, and bad will be the new lucky.”

  I waved goodbye to Breyonna. I closed my locker to find myself surrounded by the smell of cinnamon, vanilla, and a spice I don’t know the name of. My eyes rose and locked with a girl known for being “woke”.

  “JeShaun, right?” Ms. Woke nodded her head.

  I scanned the girls behind Ms. Woke. I returned the nod.

  “I’m Knowledge.”

  I fought the urge to laugh in her face. Of course, a girl whose parents named her “Knowledge” was the leader of the woke crew. “Okay.”

  “So, I just wanted to talk to you bout your Tanya B post.”

  I looked down at my watch. Ten minutes until practice. Five before I needed to be changed. “I have practice Knowledge. Wassup?”

  “You seem like you cool and everything and I always liked the styles you rock to school, but why do you wanna go and ruin your crown to look like white women?” Knowledge looked around at the girls, who all nodded and murmured agreement with her.

  Who asked people… what gave this chick the right to… 10.9.8.7.6.5… “I’ll be posting about that whole situation on my Aunt’s site. That’s a conversation that will make me late for practice. Just watch her Insta.”

  Knowledge sighed. “I will, but before you go, you need to know a few facts while you figure your hair out.”

  Did this chick just quote my Instagram caption? Who has the time to memorize people’s social media post comments? They all need a hobby.

  “Wearing your natural hair is a statement of unity with our ancestors. They fought through hell and back to be recognized as human in this country. Why try to emulate and copy the people who profit off of us like those Trashitans. These white people and people taking advantage of having lighter skin only care about our culture and our vibe. We aren’t human to them. That is why the chemicals in the relaxers are so toxic. They kill our heritage and ability to reproduce while teaching us our beauty is inferior. Without saying a word.”

  My heart dropped into my stomach. Irritation switched to anger as I pulled my volleyball bag out and made sure not to slam the locker shut. “First, I don’t do bigotry, prejudice, or hate in general. White people at beauty companies aren’t sitting around plotting genocide of the black race… they are plotting to make a profit off of all races. Products marketed to white people have harmful chemicals too. They may not care that the chemicals hurt us, but it’s not genocide. S
econd, that family is from Europe. White is an American construct, not an actual ethnicity. Neither is ‘black’ but I don’t have time to argue with you. I’ll ask my Aunt about the health benefits of staying natural because to be honest I never even thought about it, but you can keep the rest of what you’re saying to yourself.”

  Knowledge sighed. “You need to wake up. Or is you skinfolk but not kinfolk?”

  I rolled my eyes and laughed in her and her crew’s faces. “You are really touched in the head if you think someone who doesn’t hate entire races of people doesn’t qualify as black. I’m going to play volleyball. You go do whatever nightmare walkers who call themselves woke do.”

  Knowledge clutched her neck as if she were wearing pearls as I walked past her toward the gym. “You need to wake up, sis. These white folks don’t want nothing but your athletic ability. They using you.”

  I turned around with a chuckle. “Well, then we are in a mutually beneficial relationship. I help them win. They make me look good enough to get a full ride athletic scholarship. And I thought I was just skinfolk? Be breezy.”

  I turned around and sprinted to the gym to make my deadline for being dressed and two laps in before the rest of the team. Token or not. Used or not. This volleyball captain experience and winning record looked good on my college applications.

  4

  I flopped down on my bed with a sigh. Bits and pieces of the woke crew’s conversation played in my head daily. Keeping up with other people never crossed my mind. Not losing hours to doing my hair every week while in college is all I want to make happen. And maybe a first kiss before I’m wearing dentures.

  Breyonna strolled into my room. She dropped her backpack next to my desk. Her body found its way to her favorite pile of floor pillows. Living with an online influencer came with some privileges. Score one for a comfy bedroom.

  “You have been on some other stuff for days. Wassup?”

  I bit the inside of my cheek. Did she know the woke crew? “Knowledge and her little crew found my Instagram post.”

  “What did they do?” Breyonna leaned forward. “My grandma has some dirt on her aunt. Say the word and she’s tamed.”

  I chuckled. My head shook out of habit. Having a fearless bestie also brought privileges. “Calm yourself. Not necessary. She told me wanting to straighten my hair made me a sellout. In her abrasive, not so eloquent way.”

  “You’re not a sellout, JeShaun. Who wants to walk around looking crazy the first year of college? I’ll tell you who. No ONE!” Breyonna leaned against the wall.

  I nodded. “Truth be told. I’m not sure about a relaxer. Maybe protein treatments. A texturizer? Girl. This is sad. You’d think I have a mini license in doing hair living here. I just mastered slicking my baby hair down last year.”

  “First of all, baby hair presentation is an entire life skill. Ms. Brielle has taught me loads of things on her YouTube channel. Second, girl. Just talk to your aunt. She may surprise you.” Breyonna said.

  I shook my head. “No, that option flew out of the window when I posted on the gram. You have more hairstyles and looks than most girls have clothes. Face snatched. But you’re still the same girl who beat up Wiley Brant in the 3rd grade for pinching all the girls’ butts.”

  “He earned that beat down.” Breyonna sighed. “I also missed the first three weeks of summer for giving it to him. No more fights since.”

  I bit back a laugh as I drew my feet under me. I cleared my throat.

  “At school, where I can get caught easier. Whatever. My Mom and MomNisa were always telling me I’m pretty. They never let me compare myself to other girls. You’ve seen Ebonee Abson’s wigs. Don’t like your hair… pick some new hair until you do.” Breyonna shrugged.

  We both paused and doubled over with laughter. Her mother’s wigs were legendary in Macon. Nothing but respect for a woman who’d rocked a teeny weeny afro since 2012. When you’re as gorgeous as Breyonna and her mom, hair is optional.

  “Yes, she’s pretty, but pretty women can be insecure too. She’s not, so I’m not. Plus, something happened with my dad when I was a few years older than Keylisa. Kinda changed everything.” Breyonna shrugged again.

  I leaned forward. “Well… what happened?”

  “We were at his house. His latest flavor of the month was trouncing around in some ugly half naked outfit he bought. I wanted him to take me to get some food from the diner.” Breyonna closed her eyes. She sighed, “We ended up having a tickle fight or something and my hair got messed up. This heffa said something about me needing a relaxer and my mom’s hair being wack.”

  I covered my mouth with both of my hands. No one talked about Ebonee Abson in front of Breyonna. Unless they wanted to meet the same fate as Wiley Brant.

  “Before I finished giggling my Dad had lifted me off the couch. I kicked a bit but didn’t put up a real fight. He put me down in the doorway to his bedroom. Next thing I knew, he’d thrown all her stuff in a bag. He took back his key then told her to get out.” Breyonna opened her eyes. “Didn’t give her the chance to apologize or nothing. He kissed me on the forehead, then we went to get the food.”

  I wondered which of her Dad’s ex-girlfriends made that mistake. They seemed a bit more grounded and nice once Breyonna got to middle school. Never thought about why. Figured, he must’ve grown out of dating thots. “Wow.”

  “Yeah, we had a long talk at the diner, while his cousin fixed my hair. I told him I wore my hair in longer looking styles when I stayed with him because all of his girlfriends wore long weave. He’s a good Dad but I don’t want to date someone like him. Living with my Mom I knew wearing natural hair doesn’t mean you can’t get a date. My mom has dated some of the finest men in Macon.”

  I nodded. “And some hotties from south of Atlanta.”

  “True.” Breyonna laughed. “They all knew she cut her hair off. She didn’t care, so they didn’t care. MomNisa went natural and never looked back. After talking to my dad that weekend, I decided I’d just do me. If a guy likes me cool. If not, they’re stupid. Who wants to date stupid guys?”

  “Yeah, I don’t even know where my Dad is so he won’t be breaking any hearts on my account.” I felt my shoulders drop. “This is too heavy. So I am gonna talk about what the woke crew said about health issues tied to relaxers and stuff for my next takeover. I found some articles and library books to check out after practice yesterday.”

  Breyonna crossed her legs at the ankle. She leaned forward. “So you mean to tell me you’re not gonna tell the world you’ve been crushing on ol’ boy all of these years.”

  If I were chewing gum, I’d be choking on it, trying to respond. “You. Huh? What?”

  “Please, JeShaun. I know you still like him. Even though you swore me to secrecy and we took the pinky pact to never utter his name again. In 8th grade after the incident.” Breyonna sat up again. The colors from her outfit contrast with the pale pink color of my walls.

  I cleared my throat. My eyes closed as I pushed the memory back down where it belonged far away from my heart. “I don’t like him anymore. After what he said. But you may be right. I may have wanted to show off how long my hair is because all of his girlfriends have long straight hair.”

  “Boring, long, straight hair.” Breyonna clicked her tongue. “And none of them play any sports or do anything to break a sweat. Booorrriiingggg.”

  My foot pops out from under me as I fall over laughing at Breyonna.

  “You know who else has a fine man with natural hair?” Breyonna wiggled her eyebrows up and down.

  I shook my head as I sat back up on the bed. “Please, not again. So cringy, Bre.”

  “Cringy my behind. Your Uncle Corey is FAYINE. Tell him you think boys will like you better with long relaxed hair and see what he says.” Breyonna gave her ‘hmm mm’ you know I’m right nod.

  I shook my head again. “I’m not telling him I like boys who don’t like girls with natural hair. But I am going to talk to him about what boys like and i
f they even care about hair. Cause I’m curious. I don’t want to be the lame who goes to college without having her first date or anything romantic.”

  “What about Bobby?” Breyonna pretended to be shocked. “He’d just die if he knew you’d forgotten your time being married to the king of Macon. Queen JeShaun. He kissed you on the elbow and the knee.”

  I fell back over laughing again. Breyonna dodged the pillow I threw at her once I finished chuckling. No one knew about the week I reigned Macon, Georgia married to the only red head boy on our side of town. A freckled green eyed dimpled boy who loved him some JeShaun Wright more than peanut butter and creek frogs. “I still count Bobby. Thank you very much. I didn’t kiss him though… He kissed me.”

  “In the weirdest spots. Ten-dollar bet he grows up to be very freaky, marries a black woman, and she’ll be very happy.” Breyonna stretched her pinky out for the bet. “You game.”

  I crossed my arms. “You are nuts. No one talks to Bobby anymore.”

  “We’re friends on IG. I think he found me a few months ago right after all the protests ended. He’s grown up. Still has those gorgeous dimples and big green eyes. Along with some nice juicy muscles.” Breyonna wiggled her eyebrows again.

  The throw pillow I spiked toward Breyonna landed in her lap. “You’re hopeless. I also think you like white and light boys. Uncle Corey is only two shades darker than Bobby.”

  “No, I like fine men of all ethnicities and cultures. Now stop acting like you don’t want to see your man and come check out his Instagram.” Breyonna tossed the pillow back to me and reached for her phone.

  Breyonna and I hugged goodbye at the side door to the salon. The family door. I found Uncle Corey in the living room reading a book while some live jazz streamed on the television. His foot bopped to the beat. He seemed so content I turned around to go back to my room.

  “What you need, JeShaun?”

  I stopped walking. Beads of sweat formed on my top lip. “Hi, Uncle Corey. Is that the same book from Tuesday?”