Blitzen woke up sobbing and screaming at 1:00 this morning. “I hate my hair. Why won’t it stay straight? Why does it have to be ugly? I want straight, beautiful hair. Andrew, you don’t know anything about girls or hair. You don’t know how to take care of me. Fix it, Andrew!”
Blitzen wants straight hair. White hair. Disney princess hair. The first week we met her, she called us to the tv: “Look at these girls — they have pretty hair just like me!” One was blond, one was red-headed, both had long straight flowing hair.
Fast forward to yesterday. Blitzen’s hair had been in braids for a few weeks. She went to the salon to get de-braided, and got her hair blown out. Yesterday afternoon her hair was straight as Barbie’s. We worked to cover her hair before she went to sleep, but I didn’t tie the scarf around her head right and she woke up 1:00 am with her hair back to normal: curly, gorgeous and alive. She was furious that she didn’t look like Taylor Swift or Beyonce, and furious at me for causing the problem.
Our struggles with hair don’t make the blog much, in part because they’re obvious to the point of cliche. Of course a black girl growing up in a patriarchal, white-dominant society that objectifies and blames her is going to have internalized racial inferiority and a complex, oversized relationship with her body and hair. Of course that relationship will be intensified by the identity issues that come with loving both your black family and your white foster family, plus the rage and pain that come from witnessing abuse. Frankly it’s a wonder that Blitzen giggles as often as she does.
Sadly, I play my role in this cliche: the oblivious, naive, not-so-bright well-meaning white man with an intellectual interest in racism and sexism and a bookshelf full of literature. Today, in my sleep-deprived state, prodded by two hours of tears from a loved one who’s educating me, I feel the pain caused by white supremacy. Tomorrow, I’ll have the privilege to intellectualize it again.
In this rare moment of being human, here’s some of what I feel. I’m pissed that women are defined first and inevitably by the way they look. I’m pissed that Blitzen will spend her life comparing herself to a standard of beauty built and perpetuated by northern European white men. I’m pissed that Blitzen will be exoticized, sexualized and othered before she can be listened to. I’m pissed that Blitzen, who notices everything, get messages every day that tell her black people are thugs, criminals, bad students, bad parents, poor, dependent, superstitious, helpless and undeserving.
I’m pissed about the recordings in Blitzen’s head: “You’re not pretty. You’re not smart. You’re not lovable. You’re not able to make it.” Those are the voices of institutional racism, and they’re not from 1850, they’re in Blitzen’s head right now as she stands at the mirror with a hair dryer and a brush hoping that her hair turns straight.
What I’m really pissed off and embarrassed about is my role amplifying and reinforcing the voices in Blitzen’s head. Blitzen moved into a home where every single photograph on the wall was of a white person; it’s pretty clear what I value. I’ve worked exclusively for culturally white institutions, even when, damagingly enough, I’ve been “serving” primarily kids of color.
Blitzen sees me wield my white privilege like a blunt instrument every time I sidestep the line, every time I casually break a rule knowing it doesn’t apply to me, every time I tell our agency or our school exactly what I need. My white privilege has gotten me jobs, credit, housing, access to power, and the opportunity to raise another parent’s brilliant child. I don’t have to use words to tell Blitzen it’s better to be white. She notices everything, and my internalized white superiority isn’t that well-hidden anyway.
You fall in love with a kid and it means you have to get better and make the world better. We white people, in accountability to kids and people of color, have work ahead of us.
Even if I had tied her scarf around Blitzen’s head correctly, her hair wasn’t going to be straight this morning. But she’s right to be furious at me. Me and my white friends built and sustain the world that makes her hair wrong. If we want to sleep through the night, it’s our job to fix it.
Brilliant… even if it IS intellectualized. Your strivings are beautiful, true and good.
Wow. This is amazing. My own daughter also wants long, fabulous blonde hair a la Rapunzel. The only difference is, my daughter is white and has straight, blonde hair. For her it’s attainable and I never really gave her obsession with hair much thought until now. You have my wheels turning.
Great post Andrew. It sums up so many issues we face in raising children who are not ‘ours’, of color and of different cultural backgrounds. Let alone the whole white male dominance thang. So wonderful that people who think like you and C are doing what you do.
Of course hair is an issue all on its own. My stunningly beautiful 24yo niece has amazing auburn & extremely curly hair. She has spent most of her life trying to minimize all this, while wishing for straight ‘normal’ hair. This, despite being brilliant and becoming an environmental engineer.
The changes we want to see in our communities need to occur within and I know you guys are doing your bit in that department. As for B, there’s a beautiful poster wafting around which says ‘always wear your invisible crown’. A lovely affirming message for girls (and everyone).
It’s so true. Blitzen is blessed to be loved by white people who acknowledge the pain and destruction that white privilege brings. I am white and my children are Indigenous (Australians), I too struggle with how to turn my undeserved privilege into something that empowers rather than subjugates my boys.
Thank you so much for talkin about this – my husband and I are in the process of being certified to foster and have been talking in class about how to honor a culture that is different from our own. We can really only look at it from the intellectual level as we are both white and have lived in mostly white communities our whole lives. I am scared to death that if we do get a minority child we won’t know how to support them in the way they need. It’s nice to know I’m not the only one
I just love “No Mirrors in My Nana’s House” by Sweet Honey in the Rock:
You and Blitzen might want to check it out. I’m sure it will be a conversation starter.
Hey KB.
Blitzen already sings along to “No Mirrors” on her ipod, a direct result of you playing Sweet Honey in the Rock in our classroom 17 years ago. One of the many ripples in the water from rocks you’ve tossed.
This is a wonderful passage Andrew. Even with all the truth your words and anger and frustration contain, I believe that the love you extend to each person you touch begins to heal these wrongs. There may be no mirrors on the walls, but when we mirror love through our eyes, that has great impact.
amazing writing. I think about the white privileged thing every time I can hail a cab. The President prob couldn’t get a cab in this country. BTW, almost all women hate their hair. I cried as a kid because I didn’t have princess hair, even though I’m white. Still hate my hair. Still wish I could have princess hair. I would probably waste one of my three wishes on it, were I ever to get three wishes. Yup: world peace, family happiness, and princess hair.
This is powerful. Thank you.
I’ve always had long, super straight blonde hair. Growing up I wanted curly brown hair. Little girls always want hair like their friends. I’m sure she’ll grow up loving her hair one day, I did. Keep up the amazing job. If you have a P.O. Box I make the Tangled hair braids for all the little princesses in my life and would love to send one your way.
Inga, with all due respect, your comment misses the message of the post. It’s one thing to grow up and accept hair that *IS* the idealized dream of any society. It’s another to have hair (and skin) that’s been reviled for centuries – and accept it. A much harder, soul-wrenching journey.
Andrew, I hope when you’re out shopping for pictures of beautiful black women (cough) (more than one), you also get pictures of people of other races. Open up that message of beauty in SO many forms.
Here’s another take: maybe thinking that “it’s our job to fix it,” is really not the bottom line, since it kind of leaves people of color in the role of passive victim and puts white people in the role of fixing the wrongs done against them. Yes, I do think we white people need to look at ourselves, re-assess and do our best to alter the ways that we contribute to the problem on an individual level and empathy is absolutely the right way to go. But I think that we also need the humility of knowing how small we are in the final equation and to recognize that people who face these issues have to find their own way too toward self-acceptance.