What it is, good people? Boogie on down to my blog about the afro. Can you dig it? Any of you jive-turkeys that ain’t picking up what I’m putting down, get to steppin’! Ok, I think we’ll leave the 70s slang there.
One thing I haven’t left in the 70s is the afro, a hairstyle I’ve been sporting for around a decade now. In this time, I’ve learnt a thing or two. Hope you enjoy. Peace.
My hair is naturally curly and always has been. I don’t really remember trips to a barbers or hairdressers as a young child. Though, as I say that, I do feel like I have some recollection of a hairdressers with a gaudy, early 90s pink interior. Whether I got my hair cut there or whether I just waited there while my mum got her hair cut, I don’t honestly know.
Judging by photos of me from back then, it looks like I’d perhaps get a short back and sides style haircut, with maybe a little trim of the curls on top. By the age of around nine, I graduated to a simple clipper cut all over (a ‘number two’, if memory serves).
Again, my memory isn’t good enough to know why I started getting the simple cut. Was it something I asked for? Was it something my parents chose because it was convenient? Who knows?
I largely kept the same style (for lack of a better word) for about 15 years, albeit changing to a ‘number one’ all over at around age 11. I also went one step further in my mid-teens, getting a number one on top and a zero around the back and sides, with a fade between the top and back/sides. I really loved that hairstyle. And, just for the avoidance of doubt, zero is not bald. In barber terms, zero is a very close cut, but there is clearly still hair there. Just in case you were picturing this almost monk style look.
Anyway, regardless of what style I had, it was always short. And having hair that short meant it was so simple to maintain, in that I didn’t have to do anything to it. I’d wash it once a week, and it would air-dry within 5 minutes. I could roll out of bed, take a hat off, get off a roller coaster, whatever: my hair would always look the same. It was an easy way to live.
My friends used to badger me about growing an afro. Convinced I would look stupid, I always flat-out refused. Then I started seeing my now-wife. She also suggested I should grow the ‘fro. I held out for a year or so, but eventually, I relented.
The worst thing about growing an afro is that it doesn’t happen overnight. You have to go through months of what I dubbed a ‘half-fro’; your hair is bigger than your standard needs-a-cut hair, but not really big enough to be considered a proper afro. So it’s just a middling mess that isn’t really anything. It’s during this period where you really need to hold your nerve.
It’s a similar story when you eventually get the afro cut. I never go all the way back to really short hair; I only ever get a trim. But even then, the hair doesn’t look great for the first couple of weeks after a cut.
For most people, the day of the haircut is the best their hair ever looks. It was the same for me! That feeling of stepping out of the barbers with a fresh cut, there’s nothing like it. That’s all gone now.
And on the subject of barbers, good luck finding somewhere that can cut your hair if you have an afro. The first time I attempted to get a haircut for the ‘fro, I must have tried five different places and was turned away from them all. They were all polite enough about it; they basically all said that they didn’t have anyone with experience of cutting my type of hair. It’s the closest I’ve ever been to how black folk must have felt during segregation in the 50s and 60s: “We don’t serve your sort here.”
Thankfully, my mother-in-law used to be a hairdresser and can cut my hair easily. And, to be fair, I have noticed a marked increase in the number of Afro-Caribbean and specialist hair places over the past few years, so there are definitely more options now.
Trying to maintain your afro from home is also no picnic. I have to wash my hair at least twice a week now, and this also now involves using a conditioner, too; you don’t really have to worry about dry hair when you’ve got it short.
On top of the more frequent washing, the other difficulty I encounter is having to comb it every day. Yes, I have an afro comb (I actually have two). No, I don’t ever wear the afro comb in my hair, neither for fashion or convenience.
For the majority of you reading this, you’re probably thinking, “So what? I have to brush/comb my hair every day too, what’s the big deal?” The big deal is two-fold: firstly, afro hair can be tricky to comb; it’s virtually impossible for me to do if my hair is dry. If it’s a day when I haven’t washed my hair, I have to splash my hair with some water before I can comb it. Secondly, you have to remember I went the best part of two decades without needing to comb my hair. I know it makes me seem lazy, but it is a difficult adjustment to make.
Speaking of getting my hair wet, my hair now takes ages to dry! I don’t really like using a hair dryer, as I feel like it dries my hair out too much. So, I usually towel it dry as best I can, then let it air dry over the next half hour or so. It’s not too bad in the summer, but winter can be challenging, particularly on mornings where I wash my hair before commuting to the office.
One other aspect you have to get used to when rocking a ‘fro is the, usually unsolicited, touching and commenting on the hair. On a night out, if you’re lucky, you might have someone ask if they can touch your hair. If you’re unlucky, you might have someone touch it without asking. I generally don’t mind people touching it if they’re curious, but at least have the decency to ask first!
The comments are part and parcel of having an afro, too. To be fair, I’d say 90% of the comments I’ve received have been positive. However, I once got told at a wedding that I looked like the former Chelsea (and current Fulham) player Willian. That pissed me off a bit, as I literally looked nothing like him. He’s short and athletic, I’m tall and… not athletic. Our faces are completely different. And to top it all off, our afros look completely different, too. Apparently, not only do all black people look alike, but it is doubly true if they both also have afros.
The funniest comment I ever received was on a night out in Camden. I’d just gotten out of the tube station, alone, as I was meeting friends at a nearby bar. On the walk, I noticed two men walking towards me, and one of them was extremely drunk. I braced myself, wondering if I was about to fall victim to some sort of drunken mugging or assault.
The drunk one stopped in front of me, stony-faced, then pointed at me and laughed and said, “Microphone!” Now, that’s already quite funny, but what topped it off was this guy happened to be Eastern European, I think. And with his accent – and possibly because of his inebriation, too – he pronounced it mick-rah-fone. It’s been years, but I’ll never forget that guy.
My son looks a lot like me and has inherited my curly locks. My wife had to track down an Afro-Caribbean shop a few weeks ago, so we could get some product to keep his hair soft and untangled whilst keeping the curls. Son, you may, one day, read this and think it is a cautionary tale. Far from it. Don’t forget that I’ve had an afro for over 10 years; it’s unlikely I would have stuck with it for so long if there was no upside.
I may have been reluctant to grow my hair initially, but there’s no two ways about it: I think my hair is pretty cool. As I’ve mentioned on the blog before, I’m not the most outgoing when it comes to the clothes I wear. You might describe me as nondescript. The one exception to this is my hair; it stands me out from the crowd.
And that’s a great feeling. The sense that there is a uniqueness – or, at least an individuality – about yourself can be a scary thought at times, but it’s also rather fun if you can shake the shackles of conformity. But, if you’re ever feeling self-conscious, fire up some Bee Gees and strut. You’ll feel fantastic!
Thank you for reading. As I don’t know many people who have an afro, I imagine this wasn’t particularly relatable for a lot of you reading this. But, hopefully, you learned something nonetheless. Until next time, take it easy.
Rob Recommends
Creed III – Film – 8/10
Anyone who knows me will know how much I love the Rocky films; they were a very important part of my formative years. My love for the franchise also extends to the Creed films. I thought the first one was excellent. The second instalment was good, if not quite as good as the first.
Creed III probably falls somewhere in the middle; still not as good as Creed, but better than Creed II, in my opinion. It’s a very entertaining movie with great action and is expertly directed by star Michael B Jordan (for all you film nerds out there, the third Rocky film was directed by star Sylvester Stallone, for a nice bit of symmetry). More than anything, I just really enjoy spending time in this universe with these characters.
A final word for Jonathan Majors, who plays the villain. What a thoroughly interesting performance. He has these weird sort of ticks, where he intensely blinks or sniffs at seemingly random times.
It’s possible he has these ticks in real life, in which case, great casting choice, as it really is effective. My suspicion, though, is that these were artistic choices by Majors. And it’s choices like this that really epitomise how script writing and acting (and, yes, directing and editing, too) work in harmony with one another. On the page, I’m sure it didn’t say, “and then he blinks.” That’s Majors doing what all good actors do: they take what may already be very good material, and they elevate it to another level. Top performance, top film.
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