Friends, can we talk? Like really, really talk. I have to get something off my chest.
This week, I had a bit of PTSD after watching a video from the Today Show and a Black woman’s hair being molested on national television while folks watched like it was okay. It wasn’t. Joeline Payton did us the favor of bringing this injustice to light:
Here is Malyia in all her glory and there’s her hair being dismantled in a way that we can only dream that racism will be.
I was on the phone past midnight with my girl Keka talmbout this fuckshit. Excuse my language. You know I don’t curse often on the blog but dammit, it is necessary.
Keka and I had a battle of what this was. It went something like:
Me: dis whatchu look like when you go to sleep with no sleep cap, on cotton sheets and get in a night fight with a blind cat.
Keka: dis what happens when you lay your hair just right and fight the humidity in the Florida heat of August.
Me: dis whatchu get when you have menopausal night sweats and your dog sleeps on your head.
You get the picture, right?
This was beyond disrespectful. Where they do that at and at what point in time did she think “this is a great idea”? I cackled when I read something in the video comments about how this was revenge because a Black woman stole her man. I mean, seriously. I don’t wish this on anyone. Okay, I’m lying. I can think of a few people that I’ve said petty prayers for that equate to this hairstyle.
This video reminded me of an episode I experienced a couple of years back at a blog event that took us to a Dry Bar in Ohio. There we were, after being asked to sit at specific stations. And here comes Marge (I don’t remember her name due to the trauma and inability to slap the shit out of her because I’m a professional!). She looks at me and says “you’re not supposed to be sitting here”.
What. In. The. Hell?!
She said that because she had no idea what to do with my hair. And here’s the thing: had Marge been all “holy shit I’m sorry but I’m not entirely sure what to do with this mane” I would’ve gotten my ass up or possibly shown her what to do. But she did not. She told me I wasn’t supposed to be there.
And this brought out the petty in me. I could have gotten up. But I didn’t. I let her attempt to do something with my hair because…why not? I didn’t have anywhere to be at the moment and I’d had a glass of wine. So, Marge, let’s see what you can do.
She did not apologize for what she said (and she didn’t say it just once). Marge actually left to double check to make sure that I was at the right station. I sipped my wine.
Marge spent the next 30 minutes giving me a bullshit pretend braid while “gushing” about how beautiful my hair was. I let her sit in that discomfort for as long as I could because why not? I did mention it to the PR people that I was working with because while there were only 3 of us in that group with curly hair, I didn’t think they needed any more of this business (the shop had been closed exclusively to pamper us and I’m sure it was not cheap).
Fast forward to this bullshit video. No. I cannot. Let’s not do this again. Mmmkay? If you DO NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH THIS HAIR, DO NOT TOUCH IT. Let’s just go with that the next time. Excuse me while I book my appointment with the therapist to review this shit.