THE CONFUSING GAME
I’m tired of people telling me:
You’re not black..
You’re only black if a war breaks out.
You’re thick in the right places.
You’re not really Mexican,
because you got that hair
Umm… white and Spanish too right?
Samoan, Dominican & Puerto Rican even.
Let’s play the guessing game
Black and white right?
You’re racially ambiguous.
Yes I am.
CAN I TOUCH YOUR HAIR?
While at work the other day,
A female interrupted my work to ask if she can touch my hair.
Last Sunday while at the zoo with my nieces, a woman came up to me and said:
“Excuse me, I know this is a weird request, don’t think i’m weird, but can I touch your hair?”
But that is weird.
Why do women feel the need to touch my hair?
Specifically white women.
Men simply comment on it.
Yes I get it;
I have curly hair,
Big curly hair.
But that’s not an open invitation to put your germs on it.
Hair is a sensitive topic for me.
It shouldn’t be,
It’s just hair.
But MY hair represents me,
Getting evil/envious stares by black women,
Constantly being asked if my hair is real, and how do I get it so curly by white women,
daily compliments on my hair,
And secrets to controlling my hair…
Are all things I know how to deal with.
But when someone asks if they can touch my hair…
Why do women feel the need to see with their hands,
Instead of their eyes?
Yes, I know
I may be a little bit sensitive,
OK overly sensitive,
and just weird.
But it’s my hair.
I endure the painful sacrifice I make twice a week;
Of cowashing, cleansing, de-tangling, combing, conditioner, deep conditioner,
hour probably two
I deal with the knots,
concrete jungle smells
that get entangled in my hair.
So I apologize,
if I refuse to let you touch my hair.
I already deal with enough as it is.