The Black Hair Fantastic

I have a print of Paul Goodnight’s “Links and Lineages” that depicts three generations braiding each other hair in a colorful tapestry of Black female intimacy and beauty. Such pleasures exist in many families. Mine—not so much.

Light in the Shadows of My Curls

When I look in the mirror, these days, I see all of my hair and I adore it. It needs a trim, sure, but it is my crowning comfort. I see myself and I feel thankful for what I have, and I think of those who are struggling both alike and differently to find themselves.

Letting your Freak Flag Fly?

Hair dharma in Hinduism is context dependent. While there are hairstyles that are permissible, some even prescribed or required, they must be manifested at the appropriate time and space, and even stage of life, and in accordance with gender.

The Hair-Pedlar in Devon

The dialect may be a bit off-putting but the narrative is accessible and clear enough. Here is the story of a wheedling, heartless, hustling hair peddler named Jock Macleod who is trying to buy the hair of young women at a fair in Devon. His tactics seem a combination of seduction, intimidation, ruse, and sales pressure that would make today’s used car salesman seem a rank amateur in comparison.

The Alabama Boy Makes Good

Hank Aaron was an incredible player. He lived a long life. And he got his due, his accolades, his recognition, while he was alive. That is good. So many Black players from the Negro Leagues never did. Those Black barbers from my boyhood knew more than I did.