Summer of the Braids

SYRACUSE -- Today, I was standing in the grocery store aisle, examining my brown sugar options, when a man in a green T-shirt standing to my left suddenly announced: “Okay, it looks good. I have to admit.”
Huh?
“I don’t know how long it took,” he continued, slightly nodding his head, “but it looks really cool.”
Ohhhh, I thought. The braids. While I was busy studying baking ingredients, this middle-aged, partially bald white man was studying my hair.
I’ve been sporting this ’do for nearly a month now, and for me, the novelty has mostly worn off. I often forget that I have 124 skinny braids – I counted them one night – jutting from my scalp and dangling halfway down my back. But while I might be used to my hair, the rest of the world is not. Every day, people stare and comment. Like the man in the supermarket.
“Hay, thanks,” I told him. “It took a long time.”
I didn’t want to go into it. I’d tell him it took 15 hours, spread over four sessions, and then he’d say, “Wow, how much did that cost?” It was a question I’d grown uncomfortable answering because I didn’t want people passing judgment on how I spend my money. Case in point: When I told my upstairs neighbor my braids cost more than $100, she answered, “Woah. That would buy, like, 180 packages of ramen noodles.”
There have been other odd questions and comments since I had my thick mane braided by Fan-Fan Sadou, a glowing woman from the Ivory Coast who has a braiding shop two doors down from my apartment.
Last weekend, I was in my car, turning left at a busy intersection, when a random guy standing on the corner shouted “I like your hair!” as I drove away. The dean of my school said, while we were standing in line at a breakfast buffet, that my hair looked stunning. He then inquired if one of my parents is African-American. At the opera, a stranger examined me like she would a sculpture or painting, and then exclaimed: “Your braids are exquisite, just exquisite.” Her husband walked up. “Honey, look at her hair,” which he did and, after a moment of perplexion (I know, not a word), said, “Oh yes, it looks terrific!”
Most comments are positive. There was, though, that one encounter when the African-American woman working at a gas station pointed to my head and laughed. But her co-worker, a black man, quickly piped in: “I like it,” he said. “God bless you and come back to visit us.”
I didn’t get my hair braided to make any sort of cultural statement. I did it because I’ve always thought that braids look neat and now -- being a student and all – seemed like the perfect time to go for it. I definitely expected loads of gawks and queries, and for the most part, it doesn’t bother me. Because I’m a white girl with braids, I think other white folks feel comfortable inquiring about things they’ve always wondered about but would never ask a black person. Some of the questions I’ve fielded:
• “Do you wash your hair?” Answer: yes, once a week, and it takes about four hours to dry.
• “Does it itch?” Answer: Occasionally, and when it does, I spray my scalp with this Jamaican oil blend.
• “Will you have to shave your head?” Answer: Nope. Come mid-September, I’ll just undo the braids and give my hair a good wash and trim.
• “How did your hair get so long?” Answer: Extensions. You can buy fake hair for about $2 a pack at select beauty stores. Fan-Fan just braided it in with my real hair. She singed the end of each braid using a lighter. The melted hair quickly hardens and keeps the braid from unraveling.
• “Did it give you a headache?” Answer: I had a tolerable headache for the first three days. That’s normal.
• “Is it uncomfortable when you sleep?” Answer: Yes, but I’ve gotten used to it.
I was expecting to field questions from the man in the grocery store, but he seemed content to just look at my braids. While he searched for Italian spices and I searched for the perfect brown sugar, he kept glancing at me.
“Hay, see you later,” I said, when I finally walked away. He gave me a solid, parting look. “Yeah,” he answered, smiling and nodding his head. “You have a great day.”
How could I not with this wondrous hair? (JM)