Tuesday, October 4, 2011

On Cutting My Hair - Pt. 2


Feel free to read Pt. 1 for the other reason I can't cut my locs just yet.  The final two are below.



2. Witness.  Another reason I don't think I can make "the big chop" (do men call it that?) is because I’ve found out that my locs aren’t just for me.  They seem to be important to others.  One day, a few weeks ago, a young man in the grocery store asked me if someone could be accepted in a professional environment and have locs.  I had to think about it for a second, but after considering my own experience in a professional settings at the Kelley School of Business, I was able to say yes.  Now I know every setting won’t be comfortable with that, but what I shared with the young man is that how you carry yourself is more important than your hair.  People will respect your hair because they respect you.  I was only able to witness to that because I had gone through it.  

My hair has also been the source of numerous insightful conversations that have helped others learn more about black culture.  My hair has helped to make me into who I am... but along the way, it seems to have allowed others to be who they are as well.  Our freedom can free others.  It can also be a unique point of witnessing.  As a minister of the gospel, this is even MORE complex, but some spiritual spark, some theological thought, some curious conversation can spring from something as common as hair.  Rev. Tony Lee's example helped me -(if you can't read it all, at least check out the last sentence on pg 3).


3. Consecration – Having long hair makes me think about Samson, a judge in the Holy Bible.   He was a Nazirite which meant he took a vow that he couldn’t cut his hair (among other things, Judges 13:4-5).  The Hebrew word "nazir" means to be separated or consecrated. It is notable that not all nazirites had to grow their hair forever, but this was part of Samson's vow.  Samson lost his strength because he prematurely ended his time of consecration.  For me, having locs has been more than a physical journey, but a spiritual journey as well.  It represents being separated for a time for renewal and rejuvenation. 

We are currently under a month-long consecration period at an amazing church we attend in Durham.  It will be difficult at times to adhere to everything, there will be moments of regrets and reflection.  But through the process, there will be the re-shuffling of priorities.  My hair's story has been no different.  Like a faithful fast, it has helped me see more clearly. It has separated me for a time and helped to put my priorities in order.  




The time to cut my locs will likely be sooner than later.  (I don’t see being one of those 40-50 yr olds with locs).  BUT I don’t want to miss out on all of the valuable lessons I’m supposed to be learning right now through them.  I don’t want to lose that part of my identity as a black person in America.  I don’t want to miss the chance to witness to others who have locs, are considering them, or are uncomfortable around those who wear them.  And I don’t want to end my time of consecration too early.  So until further notice, my hair is here!  In my cereal and in my life – come on Jocelyn, let’s go play!!!



Lord, help us to be faithful to You.  Give us the grace to look at one another as You look at us.  Remind us we are creatures with different details, but made in one image.  Help us not to look past our differences, but to rejoice in them and learn from them.  We trust that you know better than us.  Thank You for all You do and we look forward to seeing Your hair...  In Christ's name, Amen.



Loc-ed in,
j.a.g.





-----------------------------------------
Judges 13:4-5
4 Now see to it that you drink no wine or other fermented drink and that you do not eat anything unclean. 
5 You will become pregnant and have a son whose head is never to be touched by a razor because the boy is to be a Nazirite, dedicated to God from the womb. He will take the lead in delivering Israel from the hands of the Philistines.”

Monday, October 3, 2011

On Cutting My Hair - Pt. 1



After I turned off Dora the Explorer...
Lately, I’ve been considering cutting my locs.  I’ve been growing them for nearly six years and they can sometimes become a bit much.  They're a bother most when I’m playing basketball, rolling around with our daughter Jocelyn, and eating cereal (lol).  However, as much as I keep tossing this idea around, I just can’t see doing it yet.  I’ve been pondering and praying about this for a while now, but in short, I’ve come up with three reasons why I can’t cut my hair:


1. IdentityAs a black person in the USA, my locs give me a source of connection to my culture.  This is not Africa, but when I run my fingers through my hair, I feel Africa.  When I look in the mirror and see my hair knotting itself together, I see Africa. I see a person and a place that I cannot replicate here.  Most images of success and beauty in this country are either Euro-centric or Euro-considerate.  My locs are not.  They don't conform to the norms of the society or even the norms I may have for them (get out of my cereal!).  Instead, they force others (and me) to deal with the fact that I am African. 

Personally, I love this. I like how they feel and how they look.  I understand that in the country we live in, they make a statement. It has become clear to me that when I walk into a room, I’m immediately critiqued.  We all are, of course, but for some reason, people assume they know more about me than they do.  In some settings, I’m assumed to be a thug, in others, uber-intelligent, in others, an athlete, in others, militant.  No one has ever spoken openly about this to me, but their comments and expressions give them away.  “You went to college?”  “You’re probably good at ___________” (enter African-American-ism here).  “Don’t mean to offend you but ________________.”  (enter clueless racial relations comment here).  There have been dozens of accounts where this has happened subversively and I have had to appropriate it accordingly for the time being all the while thinking, "they don't know me".  

Can I be honest?  The truth is, I REALLY love this.  I like that when you see me, you don't know what you're going to get.  I like being unpredictable for at least a moment (outside of this, I'm fairly routine).  I like that I cannot be defined by a simple glance.  These things challenge me and they challenge others.  My hair is a constant reminder of my blackness and it forces us all to either embrace it or deal with it...


Come back tomorrow for the other two reasons I can't cut my hair!