Sitting in another forum listening to more Black panelist discuss the perils of the Black woman journey, my ears peaked when the doula and midwife, Christan Kane, informed the audience that she and her colleagues conducted on a study to determine if Black women were internalizing their stress, which according to their findings and other research, it is true Black women internalize their stress as a normal lifestyle. Weeks prior I was in another meeting with a Black cosmetologist and salon owner who was seeking funding to help high school students attend her salon for cosmetology credits as a vocational program. She mentioned how the students would learn how to study the hair because based on the someone’s hair follicles you can determine their diet as well as their stress levels. She stated a woman may say she’s doing okay, but her hair follicles may express the true trauma the woman is experiencing.
Those two moments froze in time for me until about a month later, I too was going through challenging times. I woke up to prepare for work as any other day. I received the dreaded phone call that my father had suffered a massive stroke and was on life support and as his next of kin I needed to get to the hospital to make some real grown adult, literally life or death, decisions. For three days I went back and forth of making the decision to take my dad off the ventilator. I saw him come out of the coma, but he couldn’t talk, he had no movement on one side of his body, and he was combative therefore requiring restraints to the bed. I was informed of the severe care he would need and lackluster quality of life he would endure. And though the doctors and nurses continued to tell me how unresponsive he was, my father continued to respond to me when I walked into the room.
And all while this was going on, receiving calls from hospice and meeting with the priest who walked the halls of the ICU patients to pray with them, the only thing I kept thinking was what my hair follicles were saying. I was taking charge of the situation. I was praying and remaining calm. I was put in charge by the family. I was being attentive to everyone, but when I had a moment alone of silence, I wondered if my hair follicles were like swan feet under the water. I was calm and smooth sailing on top of the water, but were my hair follicles frantically moving to keep me afloat. Were my follicles webbed with stress, hurt, and trauma? I don’t recall losing hair or having more than usual hair shedding. But I was concerned.
I work with Black women every day. I see and hear the various trials, traumas, and unusual experiences they encounter and yet they glide through their days as calmly as a beautiful black swan. And just as unique as the black swan, it goes unnoticed sometimes. I hear women have casual conversations about losing their children, living on $150 a month and food stamps after bills are paid with two or more children. I meet with young resilient mothers who have aged out of foster care starting their new adult life. Already dealing with a crappy hand that was dealt them, they continue to fight the government system as a young mother receiving public assistance, section 8 housing, or child care subsidies. I worry about their hair follicles – and not just because their edges are shallow or due to the many wigs and weaves they adorn themselves, but I worry because they verbalize their traumas as normal living, as this is life as they know it.
So now when I meet Black women, I listen for their stories and then I wonder about their hair follicles. Is that why “protective styles” have become more popular in the Black community? Are women using wigs, weaves, and braids for protection or cover ups of what their hair follicles are raging? Isn’t funny that when a woman reveals her natural hair how beautiful and healthy it is? I wonder are we internalizing our protection through our hair. I wonder if we bury our stories so deep that they don’t reach our hair follicles, but the generational poverty affect our stillborn children, affect our blood streams with diabetes, our unforgiveness affect our breasts with cancer, or the constant competition with our two degrees affect our reproductive organs to produce a fetus.
Ladies, please by all means, check in with yourself. Check in with your homegirls. Seeking help for our mental capacity is self-care and necessary for our survival. So the next time you see your friend and you ask her in your Wendy Williams voice, “How you doin?”, follow the question with, “but, truly girl, what are those hair follicles saying?”
Comments