My Afro experience

Back in November 2009, inspired by Jamie Afro from X Factor (Who? You now may well ask) I decided to grow my hair. (see the blog post from a year ago). Well I hadn’t seen it for over twenty years. So I ordered some “His Mix” shampoo and conditioner (specially formulated for the mixed-race gentleman) and waited.

At first, my developing locks attracted little comment as they went through the “sticking up” phase, motored through the “curly” phase and finally arrived at the “Big Hair” phase about four months later. Reactions can be summarised as:

Your Curls are Quite Loose Aren’t They?

Um, it’s because my dad is a white guy…

Can I Touch It?

(thinks) must you really? (says) “OK then”

Blimey! Your hair’s grown!

Yes, that’s what happens to hair if you don’t cut it.

Hey Afro Man! Give me some money!

(Charity chugger in New York) – my favourite reaction – I think the American accent made it sound cool

Yo!

Good morning, I’m actually from Walthamstow, terribly nice to meet you

When things started to get a bit  unruly, it was time to find a decent hairdresser. Clearly the cheap one on Walthamstow High Street wouldn’t do. And there was the rub – to be honest, the washing and conditioning all became a bit too much – and the thought of trying to find someone who could cope with my particular hair texture seemed like a lot of effort. I once tried a few years ago. Toni and Guy told me my hair was “thick”, and their styling lasted one day. Meanwhile, a black hairdresser told me my hair was “Loose”. I couldn’t win.

Most disturbing, however, were the unkind comparisons being drawn between my appearance and that of the character Moss from the comedy TV show The IT Crowd. OK I could see a vague similarity to Moss’ loose-afro-and-spectacles look, however I did not sport a terrible side parting and neither am I a socially inadequate geek who lives with his mother. This was definitely not the image I was going for.

This image fail, coupled with an upcoming holiday in Turkey, were the final straws – the thought of the humidity making my hair look like an explosion and having to cope with a dripping, wet Afro after swimming did not appeal. So I got it shaved off. A number one, all over, for eight quid, on the High Street.

This caused great shock amongst colleagues and friends. A few people even failed to recognise me. Many said they missed my Afro, but a few said that I had done the right thing. Wearing an Afro in the 70s was definitely a pride thing. The evidence of this was clear to see in my local Afro hair care shop where I failed to find an Afro comb without a kitsch “Black Power” fist on the end. Now in the 2010s, an Afro is fun – and why shouldn’t it be. One day it will return – maybe when The IT Crowd is more of a distant memory.

To Boldy ‘Fro

I’m growing my hair. Normally this kind of announcement is best left to Twitter, but it would seem that the number of black or mixed race people who have long hair and keep it natural is quite small. An unscientific poll in my office noted that all the black men sported a buzz cut or close-cropped hair, whereas all the women had straightened their hair, with the exception of one who had braided it.

Despite Jamie Afro on X Factor, it would seem that the afro is very much out. There was a media race row in the US a couple of years ago when in a presentation to a group of lawyers about the “Do’s and Don’ts of corporate fashion”, a terminally misguided Glamour magazine editor unwisely stated that natural black hairstyles were a “no no” and “unprofessional”. Shortly afterwards, the editor lost her job.

Contrast this with the 70s, when the Afro became a symbol of black pride, as civil rights movements  and black activism reached their zenith. The style even crossed over, with the Supremes sporting Afros and people of other races getting in on the act, with the rise of the curly perm. But we now seem to have a love/hate relationship with our own hair.

And it’s not surprising, with the black hair care industry constantly pushing straighteners, relaxers and even cutting and pasting in straight hair from other races. But then, they do have an industry to protect that’s worth an estimated $1.5 – $2 billion a year in the US. Black women spend 2 to 6 times more on their hair than their white counterparts. I should know – whenever I treat my mother to a haircut, cheap it isn’t.

So, I’m going to give it a go. I am not proposing to “do a Jamie” but a least, I’m planning to give my curls a proper airing for the first time in a while. Feedback has been positive so far, when asked how long I’m going to grow it, my stock response is “until you stop taking me seriously!” Because people find big Afros amusing – can I lead or persuade people in a business meeting if they’re bemused by my bonce?

I’ve even invested in some shampoo and conditioner called “His Mix” for the mixed race gentleman. It certainly seems to leave my hair less dry and frizzy than the old Head and Shoulders. Because if you want to go natural, you have to pay, but hey, I’m worth it!