As I’ve mention many many times, it’s sometimes hard for this white woman to figure out the vagaries of African American hairstyles. When our daughter Naomi lived in Ethiopia, her hair was shaved close to her head. Obviously, the orphanage made sure the kids were fed, not necessarily well-coiffed. Here’s Naomi at 2 years of age in the orphanage:
Would you believe that child, two and a half years later, is this child?
Well, many of you know, I’m learning to do Naomi’s hair. Yesterday, at the shooting range, I let her hair “be free.” She loved it, but the style is not protective enough for the rigors of summer.
Today, this is what we did:
Check out the criss cross pattern in the back:
You can see, I haven’t adorned her head with bows yet and the styling product is still wet. However, I was very pleased with the result!
And I have a very important announcement pertaining to the continuing hair saga. The last hair style I did lasted one month. Though I know it wasn’t perfect, I was proud of myself for hitting that milestone. In fact, this is the hairstyle, which even survive this day at the sandy park… barely:
Thanks for all the encouragement, friends. And an especially big thank you to Chocolate Hair, Vanilla Care — the website with all white mothers need to know to take care of their beautiful black children.
After my family returned home from Africa with our little bundle of joy, we settled into our new routine with our child in rural Tennessee. The orphanage had shaved her head, so she was practically bald. This is what my two and a half year old daughter looked like the first moment she was placed in my arms… more like a baby than a a toddler.
As you can see, I didn’t have to worry much about hair care. I simply oiled her head and stuck a bow on. Everyone oohed and ahhhed over her. Thankfully, as time went on, she began getting healthier, stronger, and bigger. Plus, her hair started growing so quickly!
Within months, I started getting stares from other black women in public. If they were brave — and many were – they’d casually mention good hair stylists I could use, tell me which websites had good information, and suggest effective products I should buy. One lady at the store, actually walked me to the hair style aisle and showed me exactly what I should do. Another very kind woman sent product to school and left them in my older kids locker to help me learn how to care more effectively for her hair. And these were not isolated incidents. Far from it.
A very bold black cashier at the mall asked, “Why do white people go to Africa, pick up kids, throw a headband on them, and think that’s okay?”
I took a look at my cute little baby, with her little fro and her pink bow.
“I fixed it,” I said.
“No, that’s not a style,” she said. “She’ll never know how to fix her hair if you don’t.”
Another cashier took one look at Naomi and asked, “Who’s doing her hair for you?” Her look of contempt told me that I needed to get someone to do her hair for me. I wasn’t having a good day, and I almost burst into tears. When she saw my face, she said, “I mean, you’re doing an okay job, you just might want to fix it.”
This never stopped. It got to the point that I’d try to scoot through public places in order to avoid letting other people see Naomi, for fear that I wouldn’t respond to their criticism in a Christ-like manner. (It’s not their fault. They, after all, didn’t realize they were the sixth person to come up to me at the grocery store.)
Finally, I had a heart to heart with a couple of black women who were honest enough to tell me the truth about the different perceptions of hair between white and black women. It was eye-opening, perplexing, and troubling. One friend told me that black women invariably make fun of white women with adopted black children because of the “hair issue.” Another told me that the afro I was letting Naomi wear was “not age appropriate.” All of these awkward social situations caused me to really start thinking about Naomi’s hair. After all, I certainly don’t want to create an “us versus them” mentality between my daughter and other people we happen to meet. A website called “Chocolate Hair, Vanilla Care” helped me realize how important it is to help develop a healthy and fun relationship between my child and her hair.
The above trailer for In Our Heads About Hair, which is directed by Hemamset Angaza, “examines with candor and humor [of] Black women’s issues regarding hair and self-esteem, and advocates for the acceptance of all hairstyle choices.” After seeing that video, one night I realized I wanted Naomi to grow loving her hair, and that I’d do whatever it takes to make sure that happens! I’m totally still learning and am making many mistakes. However, I wanted to show some photos of what I’ve done so far!
Natural, with a Bow
(Believe it or not, this is the type of hairstyle that caused raised eyebrows if I took her out in public.)
“Poofs” with Bows and a Protective Braid
Valentine’s Day (The main body of the hair formed a heart shape!)
Knots: Top View
Here’s a “Before” Photo from Last Night (after her bath!)
And I decided to do braids with beads!
And lastly, the Afro, with a bow:
Anyway, I just wanted to encourage you moms with adopted kids that you can do it! Last night, I even learned to corn row! Though I’m far from proficient — and am even a little embarrassed to show you my initial efforts — I think I’m proof that you can learn a great deal by visiting her site!
Chocolate Hair / Vanilla Care is evidence that if I can do hair, anyone can do it! The blog started as my way of helping other adoptive/foster parents learn to care for chocolate hair, but has grown into so much more. In addition to chronicling everyday activities such as growing hair, products, and step-by-step instructions, I also talk about what it means to be a vanilla mama of a chocolate girl, and how we explore identity, respect, and empowerment, using hair as our common language.