It’s something that people of all genders from many societies put a great deal of focus, energy and attention into. In today’s media-saturated world, it’s something of especial importance to women: hair. Since shaving off my curls last summer I’ve received interesting reactions from many people I know and others I don’t know. Those that knew I was coming to Africa in the fall for some reason assumed that I had done it in preparation for my trip (to cope with the hotter weather?), and some even said I “looked African.” In reality my decision to shave my head was completely unrelated to Africa. My white skin and facial features, at least in my opinion, make it impossible for me to look African the way that was being implied (exception made for white Africans), nor did I think that I should look African when going to Africa, anymore than I should wear a beret when going to France. (What does it even mean to look African?) My reasons for engaging the clippers stem back more years than any thoughts about the continent and have more to do with personal anti-norm (aka, western-defined attractiveness) sentiments than anything else. (Plus my ego gets a little high when it thinks of itself as a rebel, so maybe it got the best of me when I finally grabbed the clippers that day after years of debating. Although I’m also aware that in doing so I engaged in another norm within a subculture… Hmmm, I guess it’s hard to get away from.)
Anyway after some interesting reactions here in the States, I was unsure as to the reaction, if any, my balded head would receive upon my arrival in Uganda – especially since I’d been associating it with a completely different culture than the place I was about to enter. What I’ve found is that, while I got a couple of passing compliments from Ugandan males, the majority of Ugandan women here really want me to grow it out.
**Disclaimer: I remain ignorant to the full range of meaning, value, and history of hairstyles within Africa and specifically the Acholi of Uganda, and am basing all following thoughts on the limited impressions I have gathered as a foreigner through observations and interactions with people here. I gladly welcome comments from any and everyone who can better inform, challenge, or expand upon these perceptions.**
Hair in many ways seems to be a symbol of pride and status here, as it also is in the United States. Acholi women who can afford it will plait their hair, usually adding extensions and twisting, braiding, or plaiting these extensions, or alternately making them into a straight or more westernized hairstyle. Students, women who can’t afford to plait, and others for various reasons will keep their hair cropped short. I have seen few Acholi women with their natural hair grown out and left as-is. I wonder how much of this is cultural, how much is related to ease of maintenance and comfort, and how much is the influence of colonialism and the devaluation of anything non-western or non-European. For instance during the slave trade and subsequent years of slavery in the U.S., lighter-skinned slaves with less kinky hair were more valued and deemed “well-adjusted” to western culture. This started a trend of differentiating “good hair” from the kinkier natural African hair, which has had an impacted that has lasted centuries in the U.S. and internationally. While intricate and elaborate plaiting styles date back long before European settlers entered Africa, it seems hard to argue that the straight and more Caucasian hairstyles adopted over the years aren’t a direct influence of colonialism and the devaluation of African culture – especially when you look at the influence of dominant media throughout the world today.
Perhaps I digress… but interestingly, most Acholi women here want me to grow my hair out and either leave it in its naturally (Caucasian) curly state, or plait my hair the way they do. Those that encourage me to plait my hair seem to take pride in watching me become more like an Acholi woman, and this manifests in other ways as well. One friend wants to buy me a traditional goma dress, many others have tried to teach me traditional dance, and the family always takes pride when I mingle good posho for dinner. They are also eager to have me share my new Acholi-ness with my family and community back home in the U.S. I'm curious if this cultural pride mirrors something similar in the U.S, and where it is inherently different. For instance, the dominant culture in the U.S. tends to want immigrants and foreigners to assimilate and take on western characteristics. It makes us more comfortable, it’s less threatening, and it validates our sense of self. What does it mean however for Acholi women here, who are well aware that they are never portrayed in the media in the U.S. for people to emulate? Does it similarly make them more comfortable to see me adapting and taking on their customs and styles? Imitation is thought to be the sincerest form of flattery, so perhaps it's simply human nature to feel pride when someone from a different culture takes on traits from your own culture. In this context, however, there’s the added dimension of reverse-westernization: by me plaiting my hair, I would be a Caucasian copying a Ugandan custom, amidst a culture of Ugandans who have for years been told that they should be copying Caucasian styles. So perhaps their satisfaction in my emulating their culture stems from years of having the reverse shoved down their throat.
Others, like I mentioned, want me to let it grow naturally in its Caucasian state. I remember specifically a time back in October when one woman made a comment, in a conversation regarding my hair, about how African women are always copying western styles, so if I as a westerner am wearing my hair short “like an African,” what will they be able to copy? I was unable to gain clarity about what she meant during our brief conversation so I won’t make assumptions, but I remember feeling uncomfortable. Similarly I’ve had 2 different people – a girl of 17 and a young woman of 30 – tell me specifically that they’ve styled their hair to mirror my short Caucasian curls, which have grown out over the months, and both of these instances have disturbed me greatly. Maybe it’s not that big of a deal and it’s simply a form of flattery – but I can’t help but get in my head about it and think, African women copying western hairstyles instead of embracing their own and telling westerners to F-off is just another symptom of neocolonialism! Who decided natural European hair was 'better' than natural African hair?
There’s also the gender component, illustrated in comments I’ve heard (from women) like “Women are supposed to have long hair” and the like. I’ve heard this both in the U.S. and in Uganda. American and Ugandan men, in general, have simply failed to comment on my hair as much. Maybe they don’t have thoughts about it, or maybe they just don’t communicate these thoughts.
Anyway, to make a long story not really that short, I’ve gone back and forth about the matter. I personally love African plaiting styles for their sheer art form and creativity, and I think they look even more striking when using someone’s natural hair rather than extensions. If I were blessed with dark skin and African hair I would be wearing my hair in dreadlocks for my own personal reasons. As a munu, I have yet to land on a clear side of the debate about whether white people should plait, dread, cornrow, or braid their hair. Sometimes I think that I should just relax and let my Acholi family here plait my hair in a traditional African style, that it would be a sincere gesture of admiration and gratitude and a “gift” that I could then bring home for my U.S. family to see. In Kenya I did this, and my hair was braided (sans extensions) by a good friend of the family I was staying with. It looked beautiful and it’s one of my favorite hairstyles I’ve had. Other times I’m convinced that I was – and would be again – appropriating culture by copying, as a white person, a hairstyle that’s a marker of pride of a people marginalized by whites. Still other times I’m missing my buzz and desperate to get my hands on a pair of clippers. It’s interesting how a bunch of dead cells evolved to take on so much meaning.
Again, however, I tend to get in my head about things like this, so I welcome opportunities to leave this limited landscape and engage in dialogue with anyone interested :-)
No comments:
Post a Comment