Tired tired tired
I don’t know why I’m so tired. I think I have allergies. I never did before but then we moved to Portland and when we moved back suddenly I had all of the symptoms. I guess you can grow into ‘em just like people grow out of ‘em. I always think it’s the shock to my system.
I got edits back on my hair piece (it’s accepted on condition of edits — think good thoughts) and need some space to think about them — maybe after the diet coke kicks in. What’s interesting is that the thoughtful comments are very similar to the dialogs that inspired the piece. In other words, I need to be more clear about why doing Madison’s hair is important. But the comments, well, they had some of the same misconceptions that made me feel so angry and defensive before. I recognize this as a weakness of the essay because I am realizing (again) that white people just don’t get this stuff. But it’s good to be reminded of that during the edits — when I have a chance to make it more clear — than after it hits print.
The most intriguing comment — and the one that makes me most anxious to get back to it when I clear my desk — is that the emphasis on the hair of a black girl-child is “looks-ist.” But the standards for boy children is certainly there and if anything (from what my friends tell me) more rigid. With a girl there are lots of different ways to do hair as long as it’s neat and conditioned but with a boy, depending on the community, there are only a few ways to do it. (Here in Columbus most little boys have close-cut buzzed hair, especially if it’s very coarse hair.) This was part of the argument I had with my friends (white feminists all) but I didn’t catch that this was part of their argument until I got these edits. They were speaking personally about their daughters and I didn’t see the broader context of their feminism in our discussion.
But you know, I think that this unwillingness to recognize the importance of caring for a black child’s hair is part of a white unwillingness to recognize racism (That must be my theme this week.) I think that’s what I need to talk about and the big piece I’m missing in the article as it stands now. White people say, “[I]f this were your bio [i.e., white] child, would you behave in the same way?” So they aren’t seeing that it isn’t simply black standards for black hair care — it’s also white racism that dictates how a black child’s hair needs to be done. (Wow — writing this is really helpful — I’m feeling better equipped to dig in there with edits now! Much more so than when I started this entry!)
Again, people make a fuss about Madison being ethnically biracial. Several people assert that she has white privilege by virtue of this ethnicity and also in her position in our white family. But Madison exists outside of her context as our daughter and her biracialness is something, again, that exists personally (she has a white bio-father) and publicly (how people register her ethnicity by looking at her). There are two things I think when I hear this about Madison’s biracialness (both biologically and through adoption):
1. When people say that Madison’s biracialness cuts her some slack they’re acknowledging racism but also trying to diminish its reality for Madison. Sure, she might have racist experience but not as bad as she might if she were “full black.” This diminishing of her experience as a brown-skinned child of African descent is in itself, I argue, racist. “Not so bad” racism?
2. I also get the feeling that people want to minimize Madison’s blackness and see my attention to her hair as forcing blackness upon her. This squeamishness white people have about Madison being “too black” is, obviously, racist. “Why make such a fuss?” they imply (or out right say). “She’s not so black!” And then I feel like I need to defend and point out Madison’s blackness, which is ridiculous. Suffice to say that Madison would not pass the brown paper bag test. But does she need (and do I need) to fight for her right to claim her African ancestry?
I guess I do her hair for three social reasons (not counting just the simple love of doing her hair), all of which I need to address in the essay:
1. So that she will look neat and clean and avoid white racism being visited upon a brown-skinned child with unkempt hair (more likely than if her hair were neat);
2. So that she will fit with her black community with the high standards for neat hair (and I’ll add this this high value has to do with #1 and #3);
3. So that it will be clear that we love and value her blackness. (Not doing her hair would send the message to black people that we do not find her worthy of the extra time and effort more textured hair needs.)
It’s complicated. And I guess I need to address more of this in the essay, (which I originally meant to do and then felt like it was getting too heavy).
I have to admit, I don’t think I’ve thought this much about race and how it impacts my kids since I was pregnant with my son and realized I was carrying a black child (during that time, my husband used to lovingly refer to me as his “little angry black man”, because the pregnancy hormones and fierce mommy protectiveness had me on the warpath against any perceived racist comments). Since my kids were born, though, I just see them as my kids. And most of the time, I don’t think of them as anything but that. When I do think about their race, I firmly see them in the biracial camp. The way I see it - that is who they are. To deny either side of their heritage seems equally ridiculous to me. At any rate, after talking about this with my husband and reading some of the other comments, I’m realizing that I’m probably quite naive about how the rest of the world views my children. And perhaps some people would define that naivete as racism. But I think that, even with this glimpse of “how the world works”, I am going to choose to step back into my naivete. I am so sensitive to what other people think that I’m afraid my reaction to perceived racism toward my children would actually harm them more.
The best way I can relate to this is through the filter of sexism. As a freshman in college, I attended two women’s leadership conferences during which there was a lot of talk about sexism in the workplace, the glass ceiling, etc. I was attending a male-dominated college, getting a degree in a male-dominated field (engineering), and later I worked for several companies in which the only other woman was the secretary (a traditional female role). During any of those situations, if I had focused too much on the overt and perceived sexism around me, I would have simply left the field and moved into a more traditional female role. As my kids grow up and develop their own attitudes about race and where they fit, they can choose how to approach racist attitudes toward them. And, as a parent, I do need to figure out how best to prepare them for that. But for now, I’m going to choose to keep my rose-colored glasses firmly in place so that I don’t burden my kids with whatever baggage I might have about relating to people with -isms.
Wow, Gloria’s response took the wind right out of my sails, Dawn. This reminds me of when I wrote a commentary for our local newspaper about “Seeing Race.”
White people used to tell me all the time, “I don’t see you as a black person. I see you as a person.”
And I used to respond, “well clearly you must be blind because I am a black person and I see you as a white person.”
And they would be all, “you’re so racist.”
And I’m all, “WTF?”
What I finally managed to piece together after myriad of such exchanges is that for white people, “seeing race” meant seeing you as a stereotype. Whereas for people of color, seeing race meant acknowledging the unique features of our subculture.
Gloria expresses as much with her assessment of thinking about such issues as race as being almost an unpleasantness that her kids can deal with later. But that does little to shore up the kid’s positive view about his/her black culture. White culture is endemic. Black culture is not. And when I say black culture, I mean this in a diasporic sense and not the media imagery of blackness.
So the people who, like Gloria, prefer to view the world with rose-colored glasses, try to put me into the we-are-the-world melting pot of no differences and ignore that which makes me proud (and tired at the same time): the culture of being black in America.
But back to hair, which is the topic that I originally wanted to comment on, I will say that it is hard for you to be the standard bearer on this subject and get understanding from majority culture. At times when I’ve tried (like the time I brought in the video Hair Stories for my colleagues at work to see and learn about the politics of black hair) one of the white women said, “well this is no different from my mother’s telling me my hair was too flat and perming my hair for years.” And I sadly shook my head and realized that she didn’t get it because she didn’t want to get it.
People come up with these incorrect “well it’s just like…” examples because they don’t want to acknowledge racial politics that don’t affect them. Are there really issues of hair and skin color in the black community? Oh no, it is simply about looks and is no different from the desire to be thin in the white community. But this isn’t true. It is different, indeed.
So these same rose-colored glasses people are going to constantly question you about “why you’re making such a fuss” and other comments. It’s because they need a primer on the politics of black hair before even beginning the dialogue. And there, my friend, is the challenge.
I’ve written more than enough, so I will stop. But understand that my rose colored glasses were knocked off my face about 41 years ago, so I, unlike others, find no comfort in trying to put them back on.
After reading Liana’s response, I just wanted to clarify a bit what I was saying. We will, of course, share all parts of our culture with our children - from both his mother’s and father’s side. But that culture is far more than just his skin color (perhaps even more so because his father is a black-skinned Panamanian-American, which is viewed very differently from being an African-American).
However, I am choosing to keep my rose-colored glasses on in terms of viewing the RACIST attitudes OF OTHERS toward my children. I’m not sure that it will help my children, particularly my very sensitive son, to see racism all around him. This is where my sexism example came in, because it’s the best way that I can relate. For me, it would be hard to navigate my life, if I focused on the sexism around me, and I think it would be hard for my son to navigate his life seeing racism all around him. So, I’m saying that I’m choosing to not acknowledge racism unless it’s overt and to not point it out to him, until such point as he sees it and questions it. I’m also not so naive as to think that my perceptions of what is driving someone’s response to him are 100% accurate, so I’d rather not pollute his worldview with my perceptions.
For example, my husband and son went to a park in Dublin over the weekend, and there was a white family and an Indian family having a picnic. My husband specifically told my son not to bother the white family or ask them for food, and it was because he didn’t want our son to be viewed as the “poor little black boy who didn’t have enough to eat.” (his words) It would NEVER have occurred to me to tell my son that. Even if it had, I would choose not to say it to him. My husband’s fear that this white family might be racist put that in the space for my son; I, however, would rather let my son be more free in how he expresses himself (even if that’s trying to get food from a family we don’t know), without worrying about whether that family is viewing him through a racist lens. Then IF that family does something overtly racist, we can deal with it. I hope this makes sense - I seem to not be able to express myself very clearly these days.
On the “forcing her ethnicity on her” comments. You’ve heard similar comments I’m sure in terms of open adoption. I’ve heard them even from people I love - “you’re making too big a deal about adoption, and creating problems where there are none. She’s happy, you’re her mother, why not let it be.”
Parenting is about seeing the world not only from your experience, but your child’s. Then you must do your best to give your child a healthy experience.
That’s what you are doing Dawn. Madison, while your child, is seperate from you, and will be judged alone ultimately. You seem like you are doing your best to help her deal with that.
Gloria: it is good that your son’s father is there to help prepare him for the realities of the world as a child of color. I will be doing the same for our daughter with the full support of my (white) husband.
The connection you made to feminism got me wondering if some of the women who are having a hard time with this *do* make the connection to racism, but think refusing to work on Madison’s hair could be a way of resisting that racism (kinda like fighting the “lookism” of patriarchy by not shaving one’s legs)? So the effort you are making with her hair seems to them like you are *accommodating* racism?
But you know, if I were raising an African-American son, the day he got his driver’s license we’d sit down and have a talk about Driving While Black, and how to handle an encounter with the police. And that, too, could be considered accommodating racism — but it would be a terrible disservice to my child if we *didn’t* have that conversation.
I think neglecting to care for Madison’s hair as African-American hair would be doing her a similar (if less dangerous) disservice. I can’t see it as a particularly *effective* means of resisting racism (IMHO, hairy legs did more damage to the feminist movement than to patriarchy — and I write this with a quarter inch of stubble on my shins), so you’d be sacrificing your kid’s well-being for nothing, which doesn’t seem like good parenting to me.
None of the above rambling is to diminish the tendency of white folks to downplay racism — you are absolutely on the mark about that! I spent *years* doing it, and somehow thought I was being comforting (because surely my friends would feel better finding out that whatever they experienced wasn’t really racism, right?). Finally the light bulb went on, and I realized it’s EXACTLY like when you’re telling a guy about something sexist, and he starts telling you there’s some other explanation, and it’s NOT comforting, it’s annoying as hell!
Wow, all these great comments took the thoughts right out of my comments.
We’ve experienced some of this too with Baby R. He is half Pacific Islander and we constantly here things to the effect that it “doesn’t show”. I want him to have pride in his heritage, all of it, and always feel like I need to champion his right to be who he is.
Dawn,
Just talked to a mom with two kids–biracial like Madison. It is her husband (African American) who insists that the kids have clean clothes (no stains, rips, etc.) and totally nice hair. She says that her African American relatives comment on hair and clothes far more than her (Caucasian) side of the family. She understands why and has done her best to abide by the cultural rules.
Have you read Hair Story: Untangling the Roots of Black Hair in America, by Ayana D. Byrd and Lori L. Tharps? It is a “chronological look at the culture and politics behind the ever-changing state of Black hair from fifteenth century Africa to the present-day U.S., it ties the personal to the political and the popular.”
“Celebrities, stylists, and cultural critics weigh in on the issues surrounding Black hair, from the historically loaded terms ‘good’ and ‘bad’ hair, to Black hair in the workplace, to mainstream society’s misrepresentation and misunderstanding of kinky locks.”
And then there’s India.Arie:
http://www.indiaarietestimony.com/ Go to this part of India.Arie’s website and click on a picture–there are comments by the person whose picture you click on.
My 19 year old DD (biracial and adopted) finally listened to the words of this song just the other day. She was quite moved by it.
I Am Not My Hair
“a song that returns her to the issue that first brought her national attention with the hit “Videoâ€Â: those women should not be defined by their looks. “As a Black American woman, a lot of your integrity is dictated by how you wear your hair,†she explains. “The concept for the song was sparked when I decided to cut my locks, and all the different attitudes people had about it. This is my hair – and it’s my life. I’ll choose how I express myself.—
INDIA.ARIE LYRICS
I Am Not My Hair
[Talking:]
Is that India.Arie? What happened to her hair? Ha ha ha ha ha
Dat dad a dat da [4x] Dad a ooh
[Verse 1]
Little girl with the press and curl
Age eight I got a Jheri curl
Thirteen I got a relaxer
I was a source of so much laughter
At fifteen when it all broke off
Eighteen and went all natural
February two thousand and two
I went and did
What I had to do
Because it was time to change my life
To become the women that I am inside
Ninety-seven dreadlock all gone
I looked in the mirror
For the first time and saw that HEY….
[Chorus]
I am not my hair
I am not this skin
I am not your expectations no no
I am not my hair
I ma not this skin
I am a soul that lives within
[Talking:]
What’d she do to her hair? I don’t know it look crazy
I like it. I might do that.
Umm I wouldn’t go that far. I know .. ha ha ha ha
[Verse 2]
Good hair means curls and waves
Bad hair means you look like a slave
At the turn of the century
Its time for us to redefine who we be
You can shave it off
Like a South African beauty
Or get in on lock
Like Bob Marley
You can rock it straight
Like Oprah Winfrey
If its not what’s on your head
Its what’s underneath and say HEY….
[Chorus]
[Bridge]
(Whoa, whoa, whoa)
Does the way I wear my hair make me a better person?
(Whoa, whoa, whoa)
Does the way I wear my hair make me a better friend? Oooh
(Whoa, whoa, whoa)
Does the way I wear my hair determine my integrity?
(Whoa, whoa, whoa)
I am expressing my creativity..
(Whoa, whoa, whoa)
[Verse 3]
Breast Cancer and Chemotherapy
Took away her crown and glory
She promised God if she was to survive
She would enjoy everyday of her life ooh
On national television
Her diamond eyes are sparkling
Bald headed like a full moon shining
Singing out to the whole wide world like HEY…
[Chorus 2x]
[Ad lib]
If I wanna shave it close
Or if I wanna rock locks
That don’t take a bit away
From the soul that I got
Dat da da dat da [4x]
If I wanna where it braided
All down my back
I don’t see what wrong with that
Dat da da dat da [4x]
[Talking:]
Is that India.Arie?
Ooh look she cut her hair!
I like that, its kinda PHAT
I don’t know if I could do it.
But it looks sharp, it looks nice on her
She got a nice shaped head
She got an apple head
I know right?
It’s perfect.
Hi Starlight, I have read that book. I talk more about it here:
http://www.thiswomanswork.com/2005/04/29/some-good-hair-links/
and here:
http://www.thiswomanswork.com/2005/05/08/the-luckiest-girl-in-the-world/
somehow I missed those posts! Thanks.
I’ve been blogging too long — *I* forget what I’ve written! I linked to ‘em because the first one at least links to a whole bunch of good resources.
It sure does have a lot of good resources! I have already saved the link to nappturality to look at with my DD.
The more I read about this, the more amazed I am with my mother-in-law. Somehow, she instilled in her son (my husband) a sense of pride in being black and being Panamanian, but also a sense of pride in himself and confidence in how own self-expression, such that he is able to reject both caucasian and African American expectations that are placed on him. I truly think this came from his mother, and I definitely think I have to hit her up for some advice! My kids are definitely benefiting from this strength of my husband’s, because he sees their self-expression as tantamount at this age. If our son, who is 3, chooses to dress himself in a stained tshirt and pajama bottoms, we both let him. Eventually he’ll figure out that’s not appropriate, probably by a peer saying something to him, but meantime we’re letting him express his independence and we’re choosing not to fight with him about it. [Incidentally, we did just enroll him in a predominantly African American preschool that has a pretty strict dress code, so now it has become a sticking point on school days.] My husband is even fine with me taking our son to get a spike haircut this evening, because he really, really wants it. I’m sure the haircut will get him looks of consternation, but it’s the first time he’s expressed anything about how he wants his hair to look, so I’m following his lead. Of course, I’m sure at some point he’s going to ask for locs like Daddy’s, and we’re going to have to explain that it would take a tremendous amount of work to make his hair do that!
At any rate, I think I’ll have to give my mother-in-law a big thank you when I see her next week for raising this wonderful man who provides so much freedom and space for my kids’ self-expression. I never fully appreciated how special it was until now.
if you keep a black childs hair a certain way cause of white peoples responses, why do adult blacks wear their hair in ways that some whites dislike or are even intimidated by (afro, dreadlocks.) is it cause you feel the adult is old enough to make their own educated decisions. is it cause you feel they can better defend themselves against any discrimination based on the hair style.
Okay Dawn. You get it. Some others don’t. It’s a sad but true fact of life. I am African American (black) and I know of what you speak. The good hair/bad hair issue–also known at the straight hair/nappy hair fight–rages on in the black community and I’m not sure the war will ever cease. (I wrote a post about it almost a year ago: http://2beblissed.blogspot.com/2007/05/hair.html). My own family puts on the gloves with regularity on this one. Two of my female relatives still straighten their hair by artificial means. The rest of us wear various natural (or nappy) styles. Can you believe that even among the nappyheads there is disagreement about how nappy is TOO nappy to be seen in public? (And please don’t get offended anyone. God made my hair nappy and I love it as it is. I don’t view the word as derogatory.) As for the racism thing, well, I agree with Octavia Butler. She said if there was no racism, people would find other reasons to discriminate against each other. :-& Sad but true. The hair issue is one of many. ‘-(