Why I Almost Cut My Afro Off...

I dunno, I was just thinkin' the other day...

I walk around with my Afro big and bold all the time, hoping cats will have some remembrance of the dignity and power and prestige that once was. Hoping that cats will rally around the feeble traces of the dream that remain in our culture. Hoping that cats would see that the need for action still exists, and that we still need more warriors to the battle...

And then I realized, nobody identifies with this anymore. I mean, they really don't. This is what I've seen:

1. Some of the people are totally apathetic. They know the situation, but they gave up millennia ago. Pure sloth and comfort.

2. Some of the people are ignorant. They can't identify with what I represent because they simply don't know enough. And most of those who don't know also don't WANT to know.

3. Some of the people are afraid of the threat. They see the size of the problem and have decided it is safer to go along with the process than to fight back.

4. Some of the people are afraid of the change. They know that change can come, but they're too afraid of the unknown--- the outcome, the level of sacrifice, the struggle, the new world--- to seriously pursue it.

5. Some of the people are without direction. An equal threat to not fighting is exhausting energy by fighting the wrong fights. Many people want change, but they want to change the weather without changing the climate, feel me? Change the appearance without changing the reality.

I sat there and thought about these things. And I realized... something. It's hard to put it in words; it's not a sense of giving up, but a sense of turning inward. Realizing that this is a bigger world than the world of my ancestors, and that the coming together for a common cause is a greater challenge than the cause itself.

Of course, it wouldn't make sense for me to cut my Afro off just because nobody else responded to it, right? Because it's MY Afro; the belief was that I did it for self-expression, right?

But tell me, what is self-expression? To express oneself; to communicate. And communication is a two-way street: a signal must be sent, but then that signal must be received. See, on one hand, I could care less what people think about me. On the other hand, I'm here to encourage and inspire and challenge people to aspire to greater things. And this Afro on my head is a part of that, ya know? To keep the past in touch with the present.

But it's not working.

Well, then there's the other side of things: pissing off "the Man". He hates to see me stroll in with the Afro blown out; a lot of bad sentiment there, right? So keep it just to piss "the Man" off...

Nah. The truth is, that stopped being a reason for me wearing an Afro LONG ago. Yeah, I was provoked by some racism on the part of White people at my first college; the Afro first appeared in response to that. But I've never hated White people, and I've never attributed "the Man" to White people. Truthfully, "the Man" is the merchant capitalist. And he has no color... except maybe green.

So nah, my Afro doesn't smite "the Man" at all; matter of fact, he probably sees its market value and wants to patent the style. So, the next thing you know, when the positive rap bandwagon gets rolling in all its insincere poesy and glory, they can all rock Afro's and medallions. Cuz it's fresh; the kidz'll love it.

There's no Cornell Wests in Augusta; there's no Pam Griers in Augusta; there's no Jimi Hendrixes in Augusta; there's no Black Panthers in Augusta; there's no Jim Kellys in Augusta; heck, there's not even an Andre 3000 in Augusta. So, who am I really resonating with? SETI will pick up my signal before anybody around me does. I'm pretty sure of that.

Yet, I haven't cut it off yet. Because, outside of any meaning, the Afro still serves its purposes.

1. It's a tribute to my mother. People ask me how I grow my hair back so fast; she's the reason. High metabolism. It's in the genes.

2. It's not as hot as you might think it would be during the summer. It actually collects the vapors off my head, so when a breeze blows, it's EXTRA cool up top.

3. It's economically efficient. I don't hafta get this joint cut anytime I can't afford to. With a pair of cheap scissors, I can pretty much maintain it myself.

4. If I get tired of it, I can always switch to braids or dreads. Cutting is a last resort.

5. There's some fine girls who love to braid hair. You do the math.

6. Instant separation. I really have a distaste for people at this stage in my life, so the Afro actually sifts through a lot of them for me. Some people won't even approach me because of this joint, so it does the work for me.

7. It keeps the rain off my head in case I forget my coat or sumn.

8. You can stick pencils, pens, and weapons of mass destruction in it. I saw Pam do it once, it was dope.

9. You don't need a helmet when you break out ya roller skates.

10. I think it looks good on me. Not all the time mind you, cuz it changes throughout the day. But overall, I dig it. It says what I want it to say about me, and coupled with the glasses, it says even more of what I want it to say about me.


So, I won't cut it just yet. But I realize that I'm living in the past by myself, and it's probably going to stay that way. But that's perfectly fine. The adjustment is simple: less self-expression; more self-fulfillment.

I Know, I Know; Picky, Picky... B-J