The chapel is downright my favorite place in the church. There is something calming and peaceful about the unblinking statues, the glittering monstrance, the random muffled cough, the occasional silent hum of a noisy prayer, and the cold tiles. I pray there, nap there (sometimes), write there, chill there, go there to think, and even read for exams there.
This was where I was sixteen days ago. I had finished praying and was deep in thought when something perceptible shifted in the ambiance of the room. It seemed as if the statues blinked, the monstrance stopped glittering, silent prayers ceased and the tiles warmed up as the whole room held its breath. I snapped out of my thoughts, looked around and that’s when I saw him. Now you’d think the world inside the room held its breath on account of how handsome this man was but immediately I saw him, I felt like laughing because I knew they were not taken in by his height, perfect build, or movie-worthy features.
Dude had armpit-length dreadlocks!!! (and a healthy hairline).
He was unaffected by the glances- both the politely sidelong and the full-on rude ones- he got. He just knelt, closed his eyes, and held out his palms face up as he prayed. I’m a sucker for social experiments so I pushed my thoughts to one side, balanced well, and observed the people around. The shock became a living thing with each second that this nougat-colored young man prayed. The guy was a contradiction; dada hair, finger rosary, and bulging muscles. A few seconds later he crossed himself and swung his locks to order as he stood. The old people there nearly had a heart attack. He left but half of most people’s concentration left with him. Oga entered his car, one black “Mercedesy” looking machine (sorry I am not a car person), and drove off.
I don’t see what all the hype about men experimenting with their hair is all about. I honestly don’t understand how you’d see someone that braids their hair and go, “Well lookie what we have here! An irresponsible piece of humanity!” The way most people react, it seems as if bad behavior is used to part the hair as irresponsibility is braided into each cornrow/loc. For me, once you are comfortable with it, braid away!
Recently, I read a story online about some sordid issues between an Igbo couple living overseas. The woman had been online playing the whole “woe is me” role while the man kept mum. Thanks to her Nigerian netizens believed the man was an abuser. When the man finally broke the ice and talked about how he brought her abroad, married her to give her a green card, loved and cared for her, something he said struck me. The man said his wife had planned the end of the marriage all along, told him she would make him the bad guy and that people would believe her because he looked the part with his braided hair, muscles, and tats. So just like the Minajian song, Chun Li goes, the aunty got on her keyboard and made him the bad guy…
Diary Entry from Wednesday, July 18th, 2018.
The average young Nigerian male has a funny relationship with his hair.
Too short and the weird shape of your occiput or sinciput stands out
Too long and SARS* and the Nigerian police aggressively “romances” you at each bus stop and profiles you as an internet scammer or a cultist.
To avoid undue harassment, you have to become Goldilocks and find that “just right” length that satisfies fashion/personal taste and law enforcement.
From the female vantage point, I have observed- and have been at the receiving end of- a lot of negative energy about natural hair. From people telling you your hair looks tangled and untidy down to people offering to relax your hair for free. The worst was a lady assuming I just finished WASSCE exams just because I was on my natural hair- and that day was a good hair day! When she realized I was a graduate, she told me to borrow a leaf from my fellow young girls and try to look tush*.
I remember watching one of Efik Zara’s videos on a bus ride home and someone next to me comments on how ugly and untidy her hair was. Asides from being angry at her rudeness, her comment saddened me because Zara has one of the most glorious manes the World Wide Web has to offer.
“I’ve often wondered how something as ordinary as hair can be so problematic.”
My younger brother provides the male experience on how hair can affect the ease with which you move through the Nigerian society. Now, my younger brother has beautiful 4c hair. I love how his hair has a severe case of the huggies, curling happily into each other. Unfortunately, not everyone appreciates this. It is not an uncommon thing for older people to reply to his greetings with “Emma, when are you cutting your hair?” or “I thought you were responsible. Cut your hair ka I di ka mmadu (Cut your hair so you’d look like a human being). One man in particular was the most persistent in advocating his hair be cut to astringent obedience.
“Emma, lockdown endigo kedu mgbe I ga akpu isi gi? (Emma the lockdown has ended when will you cut your hair?)
“Emma, I ga ejezi kpuo isi ga ka I di ka mmadu, inugo? (Emma, you should cut your hair so you’d look like a human being, ok?)
“Emma isi gi a erugo okpukpu” (Emma, this your hair is due for a cut)
“Negodu etu nwa a si mee isi ya di nno ka onye ori. Amarodim ka nne ya na nna ya ana ene ya anya. Umuaka these days amarozi chukwu” (Look at how this boy styled his hair. He just looks like a criminal. I don’t know if his parents are vigilant. Children these days don’t know God.)
“Emma kedu mgbe i ga akpu isi gi?” (Emma when will you cut your hair?)
This last question was the last straw that broke the camel’s back.
“A choro m ikpu ya.” (I don’t want to cut it), he replies with chilling calm. The man recoils. I was so happy I wanted to do a jig!
“But for me, hair is freedom…”
Ama Udofa
A couple of days ago, a relative visited. While she was speaking with my Mum, my younger brother walks into the sitting room. She shouts.
“Emmanuel so you have joined all these boys? What did you do to your hair?”
Emma, my Mum and I were confused. This was how his hair grew.
As a young person, you learn to fold yourself inwards when talking to older people to avoid sounding rude. “Aunty I didn’t do anything to it,” he begins calmly.
“Asi! (Lies), she shouts.
I had had enough at that point. I intervened and calmly explained that was how his hair, 4c hair, grew. She insisted he cut it and not allow it to get to that point again. It was, after all, the “responsible” thing to do.
Understandably, workplaces and the military have restrictions on the type of hair you wear. It would be unprofessional, after all, to come to work wearing hair that makes Tekashi 6ix9ine’s look monochrome. However, some of the reactions we have towards expressive and long(er) hair on males are quite annoying.
I am an artist. I love playing with my hair. But unfortunately, I cannot do it here without reprimands and other consequences. It is sad that we have less freedom to play with our hair on our own continent. You are called a yahoo boy or doomed to hell if you so much as grow your hair a few inches above what is considered normal…
Emmanuel Ifeanacho
One way to get my brother worked up is to talk about hair and the Nigerian situation. Switching up your hair, he believes, should be simple as deciding to wear navy colored trousers today and a pair of grey ones tomorrow.
“I grow my hair out, wahala. I wear durag, na shout dey follow. I’m tired. It’s just hair! People say growing your hair is evil, irresponsible and sinful but most depictions of Jesus show him with long hair. I mean just look at it, nau!” he says, angrily pointing at the picture.
It stares back stoically at us.
“Maybe the problem is my hair grows upwards instead of downwards. No, that’s not it. We are the problem. We don’t even see anything we have as beautiful. The other day, this lady saw a picture of a white dude on cornrows and she was gushing about how handsome he looked. Iwe just ko m afo (anger just distended my belly). If he was Nigerian, they’d call him an armed robber or a yahoo boy. This is why Nigerian barbers don’t upgrade themselves. They are still giving us the same klean kutz from 2002. If you take care of your hair and buy hair products, a si na I na-eme ka nwanyi (they say you act like a woman.) Abeg let’s talk about something else. I don’t want to get angry.”
All this makes you wonder: what is it about (long) African Hair (on men) that makes everyone so uncomfortable? What is it about coils, kinks, curls, and locs that make people want to cut it down to submission?
SARS- Special ANti-Robbery Squad; a dread unit of the Nigerian Police Force
Tush- (Nigerian English) sophisticated
Originally published on Medium
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