Bernie Mac, Baby Girl and my childhood hair memories
That time my father and older brother were assigned by my mother to do my hair
As much as I loved this yellow pantsuit, that expression on my third-grade face is very much saying, “I’d rather be anywhere else.” Why? I wanted to wear my hair down with this outfit. I picked it out! I didn’t want these matching barrettes nor those stupid two ponytails. I wanted my hair to be as free as the wind!
My mother, on the other hand, had had enough of carefully curling my hair in the morning only to have school photos with me and my Chucky Doll hair by the afternoon.
I’ve always had thick “pony” hair — even after a fresh perm. Once a cousin of mine showed me how to wrap my hair correctly post-college, it made it much easier to not have to straighten and curl the thick texture on a daily basis. (That and using better hair oil so it didn’t go from being frizzy to limp.)
But as a kid all the way up to freshman year of high school, I was still rebelling against the idea of missing Girl Scout meetings on Saturday mornings to go to the beauty salon with my paternal grandmother. (Cadettes, where you at?!) Sure, my hair looked great afterward, but I wanted to earn badges and hang with my friends way more than I wanted to be concerned about perm burns and ponytails. And my chain-smoking, chocolate-chip-cookie-eating beautician reserved Sunday for … well, I honestly don’t know what she did on Sundays. I was too busy shaking cookie crumbs out of my hair.
Recommended Read: “Bootleg beauticians ~ BlackTechLogy: Fighting against unlicensed hairstylists, hair damage, hair loss”
The Girl Dad Phase
But there was this middle moment where me and my mother were at war over how I’d wear my hair. I was fine with it flowing like Freddie Brooks. My father’s mother and my mother were leaning more toward Whitley Gilbert. And my father and brother had zero opinions on the entire topic — until they were assigned to do my hair.
For the life of me, I don’t remember what the result was from my father trying to do it. All I recall was once was enough. That left my brother, who was seven years older than me and starting to get into weight training and wrestling. In his mind, putting my hair in a smooth, neat ponytail would be simple — just grab ahold of all the hair on my head and squeeze my scalp into submission.
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If that description sounds painful, you’re right. But I sat there wincing and watching his struggle. He didn’t even bother with hair oil, hair lotion or that rock hard gel “Let’s Jam!” Every single time, I’d end up with a lumpy ponytail and him confused about why he couldn’t bully every strand inside of an elastic holder.
Bernie Mac showed us how it’s (not) done
These hair memories came back to me recently while laughing at the comedic legend who is Bernie Mac.
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I’ve started binge-watching “The Bernie Mac Show” on TUBI. On Season 1, Episode 8 “Starting School,” the way the Chicago native is doing Bryana “Baby Girl” Thomkins’ (played by Dee Dee Davis) hair is about accurate. I cackled, reminiscing about this 2002 episode I’d completely forgotten about, and adding it to my “black fathers do daughters hair” entertainment, along with Matthew Cherry’s Oscar-winning short film and this BuzzFeed video collage.
Whether you’re a black mom or a black dad, I must admit two things:
Doing hair on a daily basis — without being paid for it — is not the most fun job. And parents (because I'm not one) are champs for toughing this out on a daily basis with hyperactive kids.
And then there’s number two.