My early hair memories are painful. I recall hair washing days that were tinged with distress. I have memories from the age of 4 or 5 wearing a Mothercare apparatus so that soap wouldn’t tear my eyes but nonetheless, tearfully shrieking that washing my hair was not a good idea because I knew it would become brittle, dry and knotted. I feared the inevitable comb-out , which did not take place while my hair was still wet and soft, but occurred after all clothes had been hand-washed, the Saturday meal of callaloo soup finished and the bread was in the oven by late evening. This meant that my curly hair shrunk and became an impenetrable mass of forest, that was hacked into with a pickaxe of a comb, the only other weapon being masses of petroleum jelly.
I was often told that my hair as a child, was the finest grade of “goo goo lamier”- a fruit that was tough and hard, rivalled only by the local “campeche” wood. My kinky coils broke Camel combs, combs that were especially made for tough, black hair- my combs always featured missing teeth like the old miserable ladies who told me that my hair needed some “softening”. It did not help that my “douglah” cousin who lived with us had hair that was very long and soft, causing unfair comparison. It also did not help that I wanted my hair to form neat ringlets and bunches that my other cousin, who also had soft “mixed hair” had: my aunt always had to tactfully remind me that it was just not possible. My mother said she could not really manage my hair so many a Sunday evening was spent between the legs of aunts, neighbours and teachers, taming this wild hair into corn rows. At secondary school, I wore my hair natural but the hardness of my hair was notorious. I remember many a Friday spent getting my hair into an Afro puff or a bun- an ordinary brush just did not do the trick- my tools were hair grease and a scrubbing brush (used for getting stains out of heavy clothes like jeans and carpets).
I wore my natural hair until aged 16, and although I had my fair share of crushes and boys up until then, I was a book geek who was not really that interested. So, from the age of 17 onwards my formative men years so to speak, I wore my hair in a series of hairstyles that ranged from braids, weaves, and relaxers that led me to ask myself when I was transitioning to natural, would men find this hair that I find so free, attractive? My friend Makeda then floated the idea for this post, and I decided to do some preliminary research on the subject especially as many a time with a 16 inch Janet Collection weave, I would be propositioned by so many Rastafarian men with dreadlocs, which seemed almost akin to blasphemy. It’s amazing what some men will do when they encounter two packets of $59.99 Remy hair (another post).
A question posed on topix.com on whether men preferred hair either relaxed or kinky saw several men saying that they really did not mind, but they liked hair that was long. At least one man said he preferred natural hair but found that many black women did not choose to wear their hair natural. K is for Kinky’s blog actually had a post on how she found more and more white men (as opposed to black men) affirming her new look:
“I cannot tell you how often i catch white men looking at me when my hair is all out and about, blowing in the wind in all of it’s (sic) kinkiness. Actually, for every black man who tells me “I’m not into natural hair”, there are 2-3 white men who love it all”
Many African men seemed to encourage women with natural hair stating that “natural hair tells me that the sister is smart, prudent, and she believes in Afrikan aesthetics and consciousness”.
It was not all gravy though. A few people complained that men found that when they wore their natural hair, men instinctively judged them as pious, not up for a good time and definitely not a sex object (I wonder if that had something to do with the way they dressed cause trust me, I rock the hell outta my new hair with some gloss on my lips and a lil dress at my hips!). Other stories are truly heartbreaking. The Afrospear blog contains comments and stories of husbands and boyfriends who were so displeased with natural hair- they thought it was nappy and unkempt and unattractive and were displeased to the point of purchasing tubs of relaxers for their companions.
From my experience, kinky hair is a filter. Wearing your hair natural already means that you have a unwavering sense of self esteem and that you are confident enough to go against the grain. These qualities will exist in the kind of members of the opposite sex you will attract- persons who are confident, socially aware and more politicised. They appreciate depth and substance over veneer, and they are not afraid of a woman who is bold and proud with her own choices. Kinky hair has lots of personality and a sense of vah-vah-voom and I have rarely met weak, boring men since I started my locs. By contrast, my hair has now become a great talking point and an important way to affirm who I am and what I am about from the outset.
So no, kinky hair does not bring boys to the yard. It brings the men instead.
