The Ethics of a Hairstyle

Smile through the pain!

 Last week I became interested in the idea of trying out having the African braids which all the girls seem to have. So practical and long-lasting - it can be two or three weeks before they get scruffy enough to change them. However, I had some misgivings. Could a white girl sporting an African hairstyle actually be construed as racist? Would it work in my type of hair anyway? Probably it wouldn't suit me and just look REALLY weird.
 Against all these protests was one thought: sod it.
 So one day last week after Learning Leaders, Jabu and I stopped off in the Eshowe Mall. I found it sort of funny that Eshowe has a mall; it's just a covered square of shops really. The unisex salon is vibrant in broad orange and yellow stripes, with glass walls and sliding door so that everyone walking past can watch you while you have your hair done.
 It took a while to get seen. Their were several male hairdressers carefully running razors over men's gleaming shaven heads, but all the female hairdressers but one seemed to be on a break. Jabu went first. From the first day I met her Jabu always wore a wig, and I couldn't see why; when she removed her headscarf her hair seemed perfectly thick and normal, if a bit matted. She was having her hair 'relaxed'. Relaxing African hair is a long process, involving using a comb to saw the hair into chunks, add a white creamy paste, work in, wash, blow-dry, more cream, more combing... Slowly, slowly Jabu's hair was tamed into one even slick backwards. For the first time I appreciated how easy it really is to brush my hair.
 Next it was my turn. Without any preliminaries, the woman seized my hair above the left temple at the very roots and started to braid, tightly.
 At first I was convinced that my hair couldn't take it. Surely it would get wrenched out with the tugging. I was surprised I survived the first braid.
 It took three more braids to realise the truth. My hair wasn't going to fall out. It's just a hairstyle - miniature French plaits running from front to back. There's no reason it can't work in white people's hair. The only reason it hasn't caught on in Europe is because it is painful. The Africans clearly have a much more intimate and abusive relationship with their scalp. It felt like being pinched over and over again. It was the most uncomfortable pampering session I'd ever endured.
 Nineteen braids and over an hour later it was finished. My whole head felt tight, like I'd had a facelift. I couldn't turn my head very far to the left or right because the braids went right to the nape of my neck. I ran my fingers over it. Strange - no thick layer of hair, just regimented ridges a few millimetres high. I looked in the mirror - even stranger. Gone were the protective frizzy curls; my ears felt horribly exposed and I certainly wasn't used to seeing that much forehead on display. And I was as stripy as the salon.
 I thought I would feel self-conscious walking around the mall, but it turned out not to be so bad. I've suffered for this hairstyle, I thought. I have paid the price. So I don't care what you think!
 And although it certainly attracts attention (I've had loads of comments), I've sensed only surprise, not disapproval. Indeed, some of the Zulus seem to take it as a compliment. I've got used to it - it's loosened up a bit and is extremely practical, I don't have to do anything. I keep noticing all the many different styles of braiding now. Mine's called 'snoopy' and is pretty simple, but I've seen intricate designs where literally hundreds of miniscule braids run down from the forehead and up from the nape of the neck, somehow merging in the middle to create a larger plait running from side to side.
 Nompumelelo, one of the Learning Leaders, has volunteered to redo my hair before I leave. It's very generous of her but I'm hesitating before taking up her offer. It's true you have to suffer to be beautiful, but maybe this should remain a once-in-a-lifetime experience.