Black Short Stories : Different Coarses


Well-Known Member
Oct 13, 2001
Black in my Mind
Full Time Working On Self
Different Coarses

Character: Black Women One, 50 something

What you have to understand about me, is that I grew up with Nappy Hair. Fortunately, this was during the time when kinky, curly, NAPPY hair was celebrated! It was a time where my nappy hair was free to be Nappy. I never liked getting my hair pressed anyway. God forbid permed! I couldn’t stand my Momma’s Saturday ritual of washing and combing my hair with the big black comb. It never was big enough to stop me from hollaring and flinching up. But it was big enough to slap me on the leg for moving, while Momma was playing tug a war on my head and my head was mostly winning. I was so happy to wear my afro! Finally my Nappiness would get the recognition it deserved! I had the right kinda hair for it too. I would blow it out because shrinkage is real in the Kinky Hair World. I wanted my Afro to be so high, I had to bend down to step inside a doorway. So wide, I had to move sideways in the hall just to keep my perfectly patted dimensions in tact.

Among other things, the Black Panther Movement gave me Afro wearing power. Sista Kathleen Cleaver said it best. “Black is Beautiful! Ya Dig!” Sista Assata and Sista Angela made me proud with their crowns always picked out proud. Huey Newton and Fred Hampton was some of the most mesmerizing speakers. I swear they made my Afro and some other parts of me stand at complete attention. Seeing them made it easy to see me! I felt beautiful, I felt powerful and I felt honored to be living in my skin that was Black! It was a trying time to be, but it gave me hope to hold on to. It let me know who I am naturally is enough without wanting to change anything about my hair. My hair was Nappy and I was proud that it was.

I wore my Afro far past the time it went “out of style”. My sisters would say, “ Girl it ain’t the 70’s no more! Straighten that bush!” Straighten that bush? Oh no...unhuh! Not me! No Ma’am! I would go over to My Big Mama’s house and she would say “Come here let me run a hot comb through that mess you got up there on your head.” Run a hot comb...Oh no...unhuh! NO MA’AM!

One time I met me a fine piece of specimen of Blackness. I’ll never forget him. We were digging on each other for about three months. One day in a heavy session of making out, he was stroking my mane. He kissed me on the ear, and I giggled girlishly. He always brought the girlishly giggle out of me. Then he kissed me on the cheek while whispering “ Baby, I love your tresses, but do you just trust me.” Another kiss to the lips this time. “You know I do.” I replied through deep sighs. He kissed me again this time throwing in a little tongue. “ Well, my parents are coming up this weekend from Los Angeles. And I love the Fro, but you know they’re you know...(another kiss) set in their ways about how Black hair should be.”

I sat up and said, “And you want me to appease them by...?” And he reaches down in this bag. Pulls out this long flowing two shades colored lighter than my natural hair, WIG! He goes on to explain that he knew he couldn’t convince me to perm my hair, which he would prefer, so this was an alternative. He even did the “Please Baby Baby Please!” speech. I told him, if me being a college graduate, a top leader in my profession, a home owner , a sanctified bonified lover of the Lord and beautiful proud BLACK woman was not enough for his parents to see past my NAPPY but beautifully crowned AFRO, there would be no need for an introduction. ****, those was some good kisses, but they wasn’t that **** good. And the wig was cheaply made! At least the Brotha could of got me something that mighta persuaded a sista to at least think about it. Ohhhhhhhhh no.......unhuh! I ain’t gonna be able to do it Sir! But I do miss those kisses...

So, here I am still nappy! I’ll admit it had been a journey that I have often times been persuaded. The struggle is real for the nappy at heart! But I survive! I can raise my hand in solidarity for all my Nappy Sistas and Brothers as we have overcome Pressing Combs, Lye Perms, Jheri Curls, Interlocs, Weaves and yes, even the Wig! We’re here! We’re Nappy! And we wouldn’t have it any other way. Get use to it. Or....come up with a different course. I like...No. I LOVE the NAPTURAL one I’m on. (holds up fingered Peace sign) Peace & (puts a fist in the air) Hair Grease


End of Scene

Different Coarses

Character: Black Women Too, 50 something

What you have to understand about me, is that I grew up with Nappy Hair. Yea, everybody was rocking their big Afros and getting their “Power to the People” thang on. Unhuh! Not me! All I was thinking was how much more beautiful Black would be if they just literally relaxed with all that **** going on up there on our heads. I mean come on! We had been crucified as picaninnys forever. I know I was. Never did have the so called “Good Hair”. You know, the kind you just need a little grease and water to comb through and get some cute ponytails and barrettes to click clack on your hear while jump romping. Not me. My hair was African Kink A Bug and they called me Kink A Boo! The only straight hair I had, was braids sticking out STRAIGHT over my head!

See, I come from a long line of Hair Designers-you call them Beauticians or for this new age Cosmetologists. The women of my family was known for doing hair and every chance I got or they got, I was getting my hair did. Even though it was never really long in the long hair sense, I enjoyed getting my hair what we called washed, plaited and pressed. It was worth a few hot comb ear burns for me to see myself in the mirror after my Nana or auntie or momma finished putting them 1000 curls in my head. The problem was my hair was just too nappy to hold a press and curl. So, I was back nappy three days later!

Thank you God for perms! He knew what Black folx needed! I remember my first one. Oooooooooooowwwweeeeee did it burn my hair. But it was worth it! You couldn’t tell me nothing when my Momma finished styling my straightened slick curly hair. I was beautiful! My Black Crown was finally redeemed! I found my freedom!

I think nappy hair just makes everything jiggabooish. The Black Panthers all looked like nappy headed thugs in all that black leather. Can't nobody take all that nappy hair seriously. Only powerful thing they needed was a lye perm constitution. And the 80's with that Jheri Curl. I remember going to the club and everybody shirt collars looking like a fried chicken greased soak paper towel. Good Lord if you ever tried to kiss some man with a Jheri Curl! Face sure to pimple up from the activator juice oozing down his face and yours. Don't nobody need to experience all that. Give me a flat iron and a curling rod any day.

Father God knew what he was doing when He gave the Koreans the knowledge for add in hair. 1B, 2B Hey even 30 or 33 if you want a little color added in. I ain't mad at all at the Kanekalon opening up the flood gates for add in hair. I'm not hating on my "au natural" sisters, but weaves are here like Katrina on Black folx! Flow with it. Or be doesn't matter. Straight is the way Baby!

I don't see what the big who-ha is. Wearing wigs and hair weaves ain't nothing new. White folks been wearing weaves for years. They call them hair extensions. But baby, that ain't nothing, but a siddity expensive white folx way of saying weave. Like everything else, we Black people just catching up. So, if it's good enough for white folx, its good enough for me.

Hey, if Bo Derek can make cornrows popular and beautiful for white folks, then I don't see no wrong in making Beyonce the poster girl for blond, black and beautiful too. Fair exchange ain't never been no robbery. Besides, we got choices today. We can now be dark skinned, good hair like indian having...because that indian bundles are the bombest! (snap fingers in the air) we can be blond, green, Hell! Red White and Blue headed if we want it.

I don't want no braids. Definitely, not wearing an afro. And those dreaded looking dreadlocks. People wearing those just look so dirty. Like they need a bath and their hair needs washing. My niece got them things and I always tell her how beautiful and long her hair would be if we could just comb those dreadlock out and perm her hair. She always laughs and says, "Auntie I beautiful with my long locs now, what difference does it make whether it's loced or permed?" She doesn't know no better.

I am proud to where my hair long and softly curled on Monday and shoulder length bobbed cut on Friday if I want to. And for all my nappy headed sisters and brothers, get with the program. We are not slaves to the hair of of our ancestors. This is the land of the free and I choose to be free from being nappy! The only cornrows this head is gonna have is underneath my sew in. Nobody will ever see that except my beautician. That's too African for me. In regards to this hair, I choose to be American. They say America is the land of opportunity and so, ever opportunity I get to keep my nappy edges from creeping out, I pimp slap my creamy crack and do it pushing to Beauty Supply World! That's my hair Heaven!(puts hand over right hand over chest and sings) "My country, 'tis of thee, Sweet land of liberty...Just like my ancestors, all my hair will be bought and paid for. Stay nappy if you want. More power to you. But trust me, if it's power you're looking for, you'll never get it with your hair looking like YOUR HAIR...


(End of Scene)
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