I feel feelings when I hear the smooth, melodic sounds of "Don't Touch My Hair" by Solange. I love the song so much and I always try to get lost in "what you say to me..." but a certain feeling overwhelms me. It leaves me dancing with a strong feeling of disappointment. I've grown too quiet. I lost my voice trying to protect my peace. I'm disappointed in myself because I can do better. I should've done better. Since being in Chicago, I've experienced more blatant racism than I ever encountered in Texas. There have only been a few times (maybe once or twice) that I actually addressed it.
The most impactful (read: recent) experiences that I had were while working in a white-owned salon. The owner was absolutely obsessed with the idea of having "an all African-American staff", that he assumed all hailed from the southside of Chicago. He often referred to himself as being a black woman, and loved to show us just how "down" he was. There were more than enough moments to prove that he was a fraud, despite his white, pastey complexion. He never once let us forget that he had two black girls as friends growing up, and that Beyoncé was the queen. This was until she dropped "Lemonade" and he publicly shamed the album because "she came from the whitest neighborhood in Houston. She doesn't know struggle, so why is she talking about police brutality?" I was always heavily equipped with my side eyes for him and his antics but was mostly silent. No one else seemed bothered by him so, I reasoned that I should not have been bothered either.
One day, he offered to color my hair while we sat in his empty salon. While he measured out the color, he also measured out large quantities of disrespect. He told me that I should let him chemically treat (read: straighten) my hair because it was "frizzy, untamed and just too much". I explained to him that I was fine with the way that my hair grew out of my head and that I wasn't interested. I was bothered at that point, but still too silent. He later rinsed out the color and disgustedly told me that my hair felt "matted" and "like wool". I nearly jumped out of my chair because I knew that I wasn't taking care of my hair, but never imagined it would be that bad. I thought about it further and realized that he was comparing my hair to that of his mostly white clientele. I wasn't the one with the problem, it was him. I told him my thoughts and brushed it off.
I was in Houston and I watched Philando Castile die, on my phone's screen. I was angry. I was numb. I was hurt. I was intolerant, or so I thought. I flew back to Chicago the following day and went into the salon. White people were talking and I was silent. The salon owner that so vehemently "love black people" swore his allegiance to Trump, in front of everyone. Without coercion, he told us all that if he were a cop, he'd "shoot those people too". I wasn't shocked. I was offended. I was boiling inwardly. I was silent outwardly.
I was silent when the white man on the bus taunted a black man by calling him an "inconsiderate, ungrateful boy" and "a disrespectful nigger". I was silent when he put his attention on me. The black bus driver told me not to entertain him, so I said "Don't talk to me." He didn't stop and I was still silent.
I do find that there are times that my silence speaks loudly for me. I won't be baited into agreeing that "they need to just follow the officers orders because if it was me I'd..." My silence always creates a tension so thick, it couldn't be cut with a knife. Then, there are times that my silence cripples me. It leads racists to believe that their words and actions are innocent, and hold no accountability. I have become selectively vocal, without a reason for cause. I'm left to question myself and consider that it may be to make certain people around me comfortable. My peace is still not protected if I can't use my voice, it stifles me. My solutions for myself are simple, yet very personally impacting.
I'm going to protect my peace with balance. I'm going to continue showing pride for myself and my black people. I'm going to continue to shed tears, in airport lines, for every innocent life taken. I will not hold back to give others a sense of comfort. I will express my anger and my hurt. I won't hold back this #blackgirlmagic, I will give them all of this work. I will forgive myself and continue to be better each day that passes.
Vibe out with me...
"Don't touch my pride, they say the glory's all mine. Don't test my mouth, they say the truth is my sound"-Solange
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