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Last week an art exhibit opened in NYC called “You Can Touch My Hair.” It featured three black women, all with different hair styles, standing in Union Station with signs featuring those same words. It was not intended to be the start of a hair touching movement, but a social experiment to explore the widespread tactile fascination with black women’s hair. This exhibit has opened up a floodgate of controversy, debate, and counter-exhibits.
But this isn’t about the exhibit. This is about why, although you were perfectly welcome to touch those three women’s hair last week, you cannot touch mine.
1. It’s weird.
Like, why? Why do you want to touch my hair? I implore you to deeply ponder this every single time you are about to ask to touch a black woman’s hair. Do you think it’s mystical? Exotic? Are you trying to test and see if it will leave scratches on your fingers? If you think it’s beautiful by all means, please say that, but you don’t have to touch it while the words come out of your lips. If you are a TSA officer, I just want to let you know that it’s supremely irritating that I have to get pulled over for y’all to dig all up in my hair looking for weapons of mass destruction. (Like seriously, wtf.)
From Colorlines
If you’re trying to flirt with me that’s cool, but you should probably try another method because right now you’re showing me that you don’t respect my personal space. If you’re trying to comfort me because I’m upset, how about asking if you can hug me instead. If you want to understand my hair more, maybe ask “How did you do that style?” or “What is this style called?” and I will happily launch into an explanation of my hair care regimen. Use your words.
2. Sorry, but all the rude people who came before you ruined it.
Basically, no matter how awesome and benign your reason for wanting to touch my hair or how nicely you ask, there have been literally hundreds of people before you who have been assholes about it. The random white girl who rolled up behind me while we were exiting an Econ seminar, plunged her hand into the back of my hair, and twisted it around while exclaiming to her friends “Ooooooo it feels just like cotton!” The woman in Beijing who grabbed a lock of my hair, examined it, and then asked me if it was even hair. The barber on the bus yesterday who tried to holler by calling me an Afrocentric queen and then attempting to massage my scalp. I could go on, and on, and on. So I’m going to say no. Because I’m tired of being asked, I’m extremely tired of not being asked, I’m salty about constantly being exotified, and I don’t know what your motivations are.
Yeah… no.
3. I am not an exhibit in a zoo or freak show.
Did you know White America used to actually showcase black people in zoos and freakshows? It really wasn’t that long ago. Like, there are still Americans alive who were alive when the Bronx Zoo had a whole black people exhibit. I wasn’t there, but y’all it is #toosoon for me to be surrounded by a throng of white women petting me like a dog or a bad ass but sedated lioness. (Yes, this has happened.) And y’all not even gon pay me a zoo fare? Hell naw. I am a person, like you, with hair growing out of my head, like most people. There’s nothing to get all fascinated and excited and O_O about. Calm down.
4. Shit, I can’t even touch my hair.
No, seriously. My mom cannot touch my hair. My girlfriend can only touch my hair like, the day before I wash it and I can only touch hers maaaaybe once every two weeks, right before she goes to the salon. My sheets cannot touch my hair; I wear a silk cap at night and sleep on a silk pillowcase to protect my luscious locks from the ravages of their cottony surface. You see, my hair, and the hair of many many black women, has a special characteristic- it stays where you put it. If you pat, run your hands through, or pull out a piece of naturally straight hair to examine, chances are not much will happen. If you pat my afro while it’s still drying that spot might look mushed for the next week, no matter how much time I spend desperately trying to fluff it up in the mirror every morning. If you randomly run your hands through somebody’s perfectly coifed fresh perm, it might not look the same until she goes back to the salon in two weeks. If you randomly pull out a piece of my twist-out to examine, I will look like Alfalfa from The Little Rascals until I can find the next mirror or glossy store window and rectify the situation.
No matter how wild and free and natural my hair looks to you, please understand that this morning I spent a generous amount of time making sure each lock was exactly where I wanted it to be for the day in a vain effort to make it almost pleasing to the white heteropatriarchy’s standard of beauty. Please know that I actively struggle to not touch my own hair during the day. If I can’t do it, neither can you.
Thank you so much for writing this! I seriously cannot even begin to fathom the thought processes of people who feel like they have the right to invade a stranger’s body space like that.
It’s interesting that this inspired counter-protests. It’s pretty clear to me that “touching hair=performance art=NOT something you should do to random strangers” but that’s a subtle message. Were the women whose hair could be touched engaging people in a dialogue about how common this is to do non-consensually, and why art is needed to comment on it?
Great post.
I have an interesting story about this, in the opposite direction. Relevant details: I’m white, and my hair is very straight; my best friend from elementary through high school is African-American, and everyone in his family has super-curly hair. One of the first times I visited his house–I must have been in 3rd grade at the time–his adorable younger brother came over and asked to touch my hair. He was only 2 or 3 years old or so, I think.. I remember him being absolutely fascinated by my hair and the way it ran through his fingers. I’m glad be had been taught to ask! And yet, I think it’s the fact that he asked first that resulted in me remembering it so vividly.
So: touching a stranger’s hair–maybe okay if your’re a toddler? But adults should know better!
Lol. I agree with you last statement. After toddlerhood never again can you stare, touch, smell or generously explore so unashamedly again!
I have poofy-ass hair, and I have had it patted down by the TSA peeps, too. IT IS WEIRD.
Me too, and it was so unapologetically rough. What really got me was that it was another African-American.
Thought I was the only one. (see #9 at http://magnetforfoolishness.wordpress.com/2013/06/10/you-cant-grow-old-gracefully-from-the-bathroom-floor-of-a-vegas-hotel-and-other-valuable-life-lessons/). Only neither of the women were rough. It has happened to me twice now because my hair was “kinda big”. I will be flying to/from New Orleans in a few weeks and since it will be very humid there, I’m preparing myself now for another hair pat-down…
This is not a white thing. This is the fact that people of African descent have hair like no one else in the world, and just as we would be curious to hear someone speak in their native tongue if they were from some exotic island in the middle of the pacific, so too will people want to touch your hair. Get over yourself. It’s not some kind of persecution. It’s different, and they want to experience what makes you unique.
Having said that, you raise extremely valid points (except #1). While you really need to chill out with your righteous indignation that they would have the audacity to want to touch your hair, you’re absolutely right that they need to be respectful about it, and it’s absolutely unacceptable to just plunge their hands into your hair with no warning, pull your hair, or pet you like an animal. I shave my head, and people do that exact thing to me. Fortunately for me, I have a very oily scalp (you have no idea, I can run a butter knife over my scalp an hour after I take a shower and there will be oil running off the blade), and they learn the hard way not to do that. I definitely get a sadistic kick out of their revolted look and immediate search for a towel.
I’m very glad you took the time to write this, because I learned a lot, but you definitely could’ve done without your first point. I realize there’s a long history of discrimination against your people, but treating you like you’re different doesn’t always mean being treated like you’re inferior.
Hey @caken. I actually don’t think the fascination with and touching of black hair is a “white thing.” Of the three examples I gave of people touching my hair without my permission, one was white, one was Asian, and one was black.
I also don’t think having my hair touched is some kind of persecution or signifies that someone thinks I am inferior- it’s just not something I always want. Yet, there’s a widespread assumption that either 1) it doesn’t matter if I want my hair touched or not (people who don’t ask permission first) or 2) that I must want my hair touched and should feel honored and comfortable and ready to bow my head for a scratch anytime anyone asks because “it’s a compliment!” These assumptions are wrong, and this post is explaining why.
But I do think exotification, for example asking people who one thinks are “exotic” to speak in foreign languages to satisfy one’s need for entertainment/experience/knowledge/amusement, is a problem. It’s different from appreciating that something about a group of people is a wonderful difference. It’s taking it to the next level by treating people from that group like that something about them is abnormal to the point that attention must be called to it all the time and you just must “experience” it for yourself. Doing this is a habit of folks from culturally dominant groups and it’s annoying because people go out in public to live their lives, not so they can be “experienced.” Let’s say I was a person from a Pacific Island, Micronesia to be specific, and I spoke Pohnpeian. It would get old really quickly if every day, anytime I was having a regular conversation in English with people who didn’t speak Pohnpeian, somebody went “Oooo! Can you say (insert random phrase ) in Pohnpeian!” Eventually, no matter how “chill” of a person I was, how proud I was to speak Pohnpeian, or how benign the requests, I would start to feel uncomfortable and like a circus spectacle and I would start saying “Sorry but no, I don’t think I will” sometimes. Because maybe I just want to continue the enjoyable conversation I was having without everyone clamoring to “experience” me.
With hair, exotification is even worse because the thing about me people feel entitled to “experience” is a part of my body. The point of Reason #1 is that before people ask someone if they can touch their hair, they should ask themselves “Why am I making this request?” If the answer is: “So I can have an exotic ‘experience’!“ then they should rethink that request. And buy tickets to the circus next time it’s coming to town.
Dominique can respond to the cultural exchange/exotification conversation, but for the record (coming from someone who has been called out on this same thing before, multiple times) telling a person who has had consistent consent violations and a lifetime of dealing with racial and gender inequality to “just chill” or “get over themselves” is dismissive, disrespectful, and problematic. From one person aspiring for greater tolerance to another, stick to your actual questions and the conversation you want to have, genuinely listen to what they have to say, and try to limit your value judgement of other peoples lived experience.
Took the words right out of my mouth, erm, fingers…
caken may have said it too little bluntly, but I think he has some valid points.
People have a natural desire to experience things that are foreign to them. This is especially true when it is readily available to them. Imagine if you had spent your whole life not knowing what pizza was, and then someone randomly mentions the food to you, and it sounds extremely appetizing. Clearly, you would want to try this pizza. The same concept applies to hair, travel, entertainment or any other topic. You see something interesting and new introduced to you, and you want to experience it.
This argument is also bolstered by the fact that you spend much time working on it. Clearly, it looks good, so I don’t know why anyone would be offended by someone wanting to touch their hair. I’d take it as a compliment, to be honest.
Granted, I am not speaking for those who just randomly and rudely thrust their hands in your hair or make snide remarks. That’s inconsiderate regardless.
I’m laughing to hard! I never realized how true they are until I read your post. Number 4, especially, kills me. My hair is confused (it’s curly, wavy, AND coily) so when I pull out a coil, it just kind of chills there. I usually just give up and cry in a corner when faced with the prospect of refluffing an afro. Thanks for this post, it brightened my day. 🙂
My best friend is Jamaican and she probably shares your thoughts on this. From young, I’ve always been fascinated with her hair (no idea why I would be — I was 9 years old) and I think I’m the only person allowed to touch it besides herself….and she probably only let me do it b/c I’ve know her so long. But I do not go up to random strangers and put my hands in their hair or ask to touch it. That’s odd! 😮 Congrats on being FP! 🙂
Inseparable twins: curiosity and rudeness. There are no limits it seems.
I can relate, except I’m cool with it.
I have people ask to touch my beard, sometimes total strangers, and I’m completely cool with that. My beard is to be loved and admired, and if it takes a fondling to accomplish, go for it.
I lived in rural Kenya for about a year and, as one of very few white people in my area, kids were always trying to touch my hair . . . sometimes they would run up to me on the street and just grab it. When it was kids I knew I usually didn’t mind, but the daughter of one of my colleagues actually PUT IT IN HER MOUTH one time and started chewing on it . . . ew!
Still, I think it would have weirded me out if grown people tried to touch my hair. That kind of behavior is forgivable in a kid, but pretty off-putting in an adult — especially a stranger!
Reblogged this on ocheanninnis.
I think it’s only natural to wonder what someone’s hair feels like when the texture is so disparate from one’s own. You might not know it from my avatar pic, but I have seriously kinky “mixed-race” hair. I struggle with it every damned day. Let it dry naturally, and it shrivels up into miniature Little Lord Fauntleroy curls. Straighten it, and at the slightest hint of humidity, it goes ka-FRIZZ.
I confess this abashedly, but I do want to touch long, straight silky hair. But, as adults, we must curb these impulses. Like someone commented above, that kind of behavior is appropriate for kids — not grown-ups.
well said!!! your hair are your own and no one should be touching them unless they have an explicit authority to. you have voiced your reasons so well. way to go girl…kudos on standing up for yourself and many others and for being freshly pressed.
Who are these random people touching or commenting on your hair? Seems like they lack common sense.
People have been grabbing at and touching my hair for as long as I can remember. I can’t say I think this is attached to race or a fascination with texture. I think it’s similar to people’s odd assumption that they can walk up to another person and “feel” a material of a shirt, or rub a pregnant woman’s stomach. A lot of people have poor boundaries and make so many of us uncomfortable.
I don’t know why some people think it is acceptable to walk up to some random stranger and say “Hey, can I touch your [insert body part here]?” I haven’t experienced the exact same thing as you, of course, but this reminds me a lot of how I felt when I was pregnant with my daughter.
Once, I had a patient reach through the window where I was checking him in for his appointment to feel up my stomach. Nearly every day someone would walk up to me and ask if they could feel my belly. I don’t know about everyone else, but I’m not much of a physical contact person unless it’s with my significant other or child. I didn’t much like family touching my stomach.
This is pretty dang uncomfortable, since if you tell some old lady at the grocery store “No, I’m not comfortable with that,” it always seems that they get offended.
I know it must be frustrating and annoying when this sort of things happens so often, and it is not a temporary circumstance like pregnancy would be. If only it was acceptable to use an air horn on someone when they invaded your personal space… Anyway, while these people who do these sorts of things are incredibly annoying, I don’t think they mean any harm by it. That said, it still isn’t right.
Hopefully people will start to think about how they are coming across and making other people feel before they speak or act.
ahahahaha using airhorns would be hilarious. “YOU HAVE NOW ENTERED MY PERSONAL SPACE. PLEASE EXIT. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.”
American comfort zones: Stranger: 12 feet. Aquaintance: 3 feet. Possible anxiety? 12 feet. Possible anger? 3 feet. Thank you for inspiring me to look up stranger in the Thesaurus. Interesting to me how people treat each other like rocks in the big cities. Well met.
Hey bookishgirl05! Take a look at my comment to tamberrinoartstudio below and let me know if you have any other thoughts/feelings/experiences you’d like to share. I’d be interested to hear them : )
I enjoyed your post, I always find it fascinating how adults never learned to curb their impulses to touch without asking. I’m a biaracial woman with long, curly hair, people touch my hair without asking. I’m also tattooed and people will walk up behind me in stores to touch my arms because they’re colorful. It always weirds me out and pisses me off. It’s reminiscent of pregnancy as well, when people feel that it is perfectly acceptable to reach out and touch a pregnant woman’s belly, even if they’re strangers at the grocery store.
Loved this piece. Fantastic writing, Dominique.
I won’t touch, I promise! People should not ask to touch pregnant bellies either. Just my opinion.
Reminds me of when I was pregnant, and random strangers felt entitled to walk right up to me and touch my belly. Congratulations on being Freshly Pressed! 🙂
I wrote a post a couple months ago on why it’s not ok to ask strangers if they’re pregnant and I mentioned people touching bellies without consent. All these comments make me want to write a follow-up addressing the issue more fully! Feel free to tell me about your experiences over in the comments if you want!
Right on! I’m always appalled by the lack of respect that people, strangers in particular, have for the personal space and bodies of others. Even just riding the subway every day to work, you can see some messed up shit. I see so many people callously pushing and stepping all over others in their attempt to get on to wedge themselves into the crowded train. Everyone is just SO IMPORTANT in their own mind, making everyone else worthy of disregard.
haha I feel ya. i’m a red-headed white girl with long curly locks, and they are a magnet for EVERYONE regardless of race color or creed. it makes me INSANE. “Hey, personal space here! Piss off!”
Reblogged this on (i)mplod(e)xplode and commented:
I understand this.
It bothers me if people touch without asking, but if they ask first I don’t have a problem with it, as long as they’re careful. I understand my hair looks pretty awesome, with its curls everywhere, and I don’t find it to be an exoticism as it is a curiosity thing. I agree with someone else that mentioned they have curly hair and liked experiencing the texture of straight hair. As long as all parties are respectful and ask first, I don’t see it as much of a problem. I thought the art demonstration was great.
When I was going through chemo and rocking the bald-head-no-eyebrows look, total strangers would come up to me and ask me about my treatment or tell me about their relative/friend/whoever who had cancer and who maybe had died of it! I understand the urge to connect but I so did not need these strangers putting their emotions on me. Boundaries, people. BOUNDARIES.