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Candi Fulcher
As a young child, I had no frame of reference for “other.” Where I grew up everyone was like me, they played outside till the street lights came on, got their hair pressed in the kitchen for church on Sundays, and when playing tag tried their hardest not to be it. But in the second grade, I learned what “other” was and I was it.
In second grade, my family moved to a predominately white neighborhood, where I was one of five Black students in my school. While I focused on how different everyone acted, they were focused on how different I appeared. For my peers the largest difference was not my skin but my hair. They were amazed by my versatility. They could not understand that in one month’s time, I would have braids, twist and even hair as long and as straight as theirs.
At first I did not understand the difference. What was the big deal “you got hair, I got hair,” however all that changed one afternoon on the playground. One of my female classmate poured water on her head, and NOTHING HAPPENED! She just had wet straight hair. It was then that I knew there was a difference, because it was after I had gotten my hair pressed and I would have never dared to get my hair wet on purpose.
At that point I begun asking my mother the very questions I had dismissed, when they came from my peers. “How did you get your hair like that?” “Why don’t you wash your hair everyday?” “Why can’t you get your hair wet?” During this period, I also started in elementary exploration of all things Black. I would try to incorporate it into all of my school assignments, which was often met with some opposition.
This exploration started a hobby that would inform many of my life decisions. As a teenager I had a perm, but during my junior year of high school I decided to grow my hair out to accomplish my goal of getting locks.
And you would think my peers, now that I attended an all black high school, would embrace my decision to go natural. However again I was the other, often being made fun of by my friends for the appearance of my hair during the transition; despite the ridicule as I had learned in grade school, being the “other” made me unique.
Since starting my hobby of researching my culture in grade school, I have graduated from college with a B.A. in African American studies. It is my personal goal to educate young African Americans about their culture. So when they are in the position of “other” they will embrace it, because they know the greatness that is their history.
And who could have ever imagined that a question that Black women have grown to despise, “How do you get your hair like that?” would help me discover my natural hair, my African culture, and my path to consciousness.
Great post - very inspirational :o)