Hair is a ritual and a whole culture within the black community. For any of us with even a hint of Sub-Saharan African blood, ‘wash ‘n go’ is simply not an option.
‘What lovely hair you have’ people might kindly say to me when it’s been ‘done enough for a hair-down moment’. Little did they know how much trial, error and product ‘bespokery’ had gone into it so yes, I have high maintenance hair. But apart from a mild fear of rain post blow-dry and the fact that due to time consumption, hair wash day is diary-worthy, it’s not been so hard.
I say this because when I was a child I used to watch my Jamaican friends endure their weekly hot comb/Dax Pomade and cane row routine (in West London’s West Indian community it was called ‘cane’ not ‘corn’ row) that only lasted the week and longer if it was rather painfully plaited. So I guess my (Caucasian) mother cutting off my hair to Starsky (as in Hutch) -style curls made sense