Me, My Hair, and I by Shawneda (13 ebook reader .TXT) 📗

named her “Knowledge” was the leader of the woke crew. “Okay.”

“So, I just wanted to talk to you bout your Tanya B post.”

I looked down at my watch. Ten minutes until practice. Five before I needed to be changed. “I have practice Knowledge. Wassup?”

“You seem like you cool and everything and I always liked the styles you rock to school, but why do you wanna go and ruin your crown to look like white women?” Knowledge looked around at the girls, who all nodded and murmured agreement with her.

Who asked people… what gave this chick the right to… 10.9.8.7.6.5… “I’ll be posting about that whole situation on my Aunt’s site. That’s a conversation that will make me late for practice. Just watch her Insta.”

Knowledge sighed. “I will, but before you go, you need to know a few facts while you figure your hair out.”

Did this chick just quote my Instagram caption? Who has the time to memorize people’s social media post comments? They all need a hobby.

“Wearing your natural hair is a statement of unity with our ancestors. They fought through hell and back to be recognized as human in this country. Why try to emulate and copy the people who profit off of us like those Trashitans. These white people and people taking advantage of having lighter skin only care about our culture and our vibe. We aren’t human to them. That is why the chemicals in the relaxers are so toxic. They kill our heritage and ability to reproduce while teaching us our beauty is inferior. Without saying a word.”

My heart dropped into my stomach. Irritation switched to anger as I pulled my volleyball bag out and made sure not to slam the locker shut. “First, I don’t do bigotry, prejudice, or hate in general. White people at beauty companies aren’t sitting around plotting genocide of the black race… they are plotting to make a profit off of all races. Products marketed to white people have harmful chemicals too. They may not care that the chemicals hurt us, but it’s not genocide. Second, that family is from Europe. White is an American construct, not an actual ethnicity. Neither is ‘black’ but I don’t have time to argue with you. I’ll ask my Aunt about the health benefits of staying natural because to be honest I never even thought about it, but you can keep the rest of what you’re saying to yourself.”

Knowledge sighed. “You need to wake up. Or is you skinfolk but not kinfolk?”

I rolled my eyes and laughed in her and her crew’s faces. “You are really touched in the head if you think someone who doesn’t hate entire races of people doesn’t qualify as black. I’m going to play volleyball. You go do whatever nightmare walkers who call themselves woke do.”

Knowledge clutched her neck as if she were wearing pearls as I walked past her toward the gym. “You need to wake up, sis. These white folks don’t want nothing but your athletic ability. They using you.”

I turned around with a chuckle. “Well, then we are in a mutually beneficial relationship. I help them win. They make me look good enough to get a full ride athletic scholarship. And I thought I was just skinfolk? Be breezy.”

I turned around and sprinted to the gym to make my deadline for being dressed and two laps in before the rest of the team. Token or not. Used or not. This volleyball captain experience and winning record looked good on my college applications.

4

I flopped down on my bed with a sigh. Bits and pieces of the woke crew’s conversation played in my head daily. Keeping up with other people never crossed my mind. Not losing hours to doing my hair every week while in college is all I want to make happen. And maybe a first kiss before I’m wearing dentures.

Breyonna strolled into my room. She dropped her backpack next to my desk. Her body found its way to her favorite pile of floor pillows. Living with an online influencer came with some privileges. Score one for a comfy bedroom.

“You have been on some other stuff for days. Wassup?”

I bit the inside of my cheek. Did she know the woke crew? “Knowledge and her little crew found my Instagram post.”

“What did they do?” Breyonna leaned forward. “My grandma has some dirt on her aunt. Say the word and she’s tamed.”

I chuckled. My head shook out of habit. Having a fearless bestie also brought privileges. “Calm yourself. Not necessary. She told me wanting to straighten my hair made me a sellout. In her abrasive, not so eloquent way.”

“You’re not a sellout, JeShaun. Who wants to walk around looking crazy the first year of college? I’ll tell you who. No ONE!” Breyonna leaned against the wall.

I nodded. “Truth be told. I’m not sure about a relaxer. Maybe protein treatments. A texturizer? Girl. This is sad. You’d think I have a mini license in doing hair living here. I just mastered slicking my baby hair down last year.”

“First of all, baby hair presentation is an entire life skill. Ms. Brielle has taught me loads of things on her YouTube channel. Second, girl. Just talk to your aunt. She may surprise you.” Breyonna said.

I shook my head. “No, that option flew out of the window when I posted on the gram. You have more hairstyles and looks than most girls have clothes. Face snatched. But you’re still the same girl who beat up Wiley Brant in the 3rd grade for pinching all the girls’ butts.”

“He earned that beat down.” Breyonna sighed. “I also missed the first three weeks of summer for giving it to him. No more fights since.”

I bit back a laugh as I drew my feet under me. I cleared my throat.

“At school, where I can get caught easier. Whatever. My Mom and MomNisa were always telling me I’m pretty. They never let me compare myself to other girls. You’ve seen Ebonee Abson’s wigs. Don’t like your hair…