Faux Locs
The one activity I never gave up during the pandemic was getting my hair done.
I kept showing up for my maintenance and style even when I had to arrange to enter the salon through the back door off the alley to avoid the gaze of passing white people who were calling the cops on Black businesses they suspected to still be operating during the stay at home orders. If Governor Newsom’s wack ass thinks golf courses should be open, I believe my seat at Loc Lov should stay open too. At Loc Lov, we actually love each other enough to wear our masks and keep our distance. Even under those hot as hell dryers which is saying a lot.
I decided that my Black stylists are essential and having my hair done is one of my greatest pleasures. I have chills right now thinking about my scalp being washed and rubbed down to the tempo of SiR, Summer Walker, and Megan thee Stallion NPR Tiny Desk performances playing over the salon speakers. This is especially true now that my hair appointments are one of the few moments of safe physical touch I can rely on during the pandemic.
Salih, Rasha, and Hadiyah have all been my locticians and friends throughout the years and they are very skilled at their craft. When I emerge from the blue velvet chairs under the hair dryer, I’m not sure how they masterfully finessed my hair into one of my many updos until I start the process of taking it down. After a good meal and a few rotations of the blunt while playing my favorite live Jazmine Sullivan performances on Youtube, I’m good for unraveling my week's old salon style while lounging around and laughing with my girlfriends. This is when I’m the most comfortable-- laughing, sharing stories and being cared for like we’re in a real life R&B music video.
I’ve never been in a room with Black women where any two of us have the same hairstyle. I can’t say that for white folks. Especially the blondes. All of them look like the same breed of golden retrievers from behind.
Black women are effortless transformers because of the creative vision we imagine onto our heads every few weeks. Though many of us have given up chemical perms for our natural hair, I’ve realized there is still a collective lack of understanding about how hair like mine works. Even my closest friends don’t know what’s happening on the top of my head until they witness my hair fall into tiny curls as I remove the pipe cleaners hidden beneath my reddish brown locs while sitting on the living room floor at the kickback.
To be fair, I’m still surprised by what my hair can become with a handful of rubber bands and a single piece of brown thread. But I did assume all of us knew about palm rolling regardless of if we’ve ever had locs before. I’ve never worn a lace front wig but I’m pretty sure I can pluck and prepare a unit to be glued to my forehead from years of watching my Instagram discovery page. Well, maybe. At least I know you have to pluck something.
Which brings me to why I’m even talking about my deep admiration for the dread hair sitting on my shoulders...
One day, when I was getting in my screen time hours scrolling through the internet, I came across an article about the U.S. Circuit Court ruling that it’s perfectly legal to refuse jobs to people with dreadlocks.
I was pissed but not surprised.
What surprised me were the images chosen as examples of the type of hair that can be legally discriminated against were not locs. They didn’t select pictures of locs that may need to be repaired with extensions and interlocking. The images didn’t include the natural facet of lint that dreads with some of our tressels over time. It didn’t show the crispy diamond patterned parts after a fresh retwist either or the face of the Black people who haven’t chosen dreadlocks. All of which are real hair scenarios that Chastity Jones could have been experiencing when Catastrophe Management Solutions of Mobile, Alabama rescinded her job offer, the claim of her Equal Employment Opportunity Commision lawsuit.
Here we are talking about people with dreadlocks considered unprofessional and dirty with photos of people wearing fake temporary “Faux Locs”. For added spice, some publications would even toss in a picture of Zendaya “wearing dreadlocks” at the 2015 Oscar Awards. When Zendaya arrived on the red carpet wearing a Vivienne Westwood gown and a fresh set of faux locs, Giulianna Rancic said sis looked like she “smells like patchouli oil or weed.”
And for the record, I have locs and I absolutely smell like weed. But that’s because I always have a blunt in my purse. Not because of my hair.
What worried me the most is that even a few Black publications publish photos of faux locs/braids. I was confronted by the very real possibility that Black people might not know what the back of my head looks like. I already know not to expect much from white people when it comes to valuing my humanity, let alone the specifics of my cultural and adornment practices.
I’m terrified that my loves—Black people—might still believe dreadlocks, or locs as I refer to them, are not clean or “professional". That we don’t deserve to wear our hair in this style and have gainful employment in whatever field of work we choose. If none of us can tell the difference between faux locs and dreadlocks, then we probably can’t tell the difference between dreadlocks and braids. And if we can’t tell the difference between dreadlocks and braids, then we probably can’t tell the difference between braids and twists. And if we can’t tell the difference between braids and twists, then maybe all of us can be fired for being Black with hair.
