Keep a Loc on It

When certain items from the media manage to insidiously interrupt my fasting from the news, I have found they serve as messages from Spirit for me to pay attention to. One such issue sparked from Fashion Police co-host Giuliana Rancik's racially insensitive and insulting comments about Zendaya’s dreadlocs after the Academy Awards. I won’t go into details here, because Zendaya’s written response says it all. However, the incident has been serving to help me more closely examine my motives for keeping a lock on my locs, with which I’ve had a love/hate relationship over the years.

Before I even got locs, I promised my mother I wouldn’t. I was not even thinking of getting them at the time. I had been known for my thick, well-kept hair, whether I wore a wild curly mane, the 1980’s asymmetrical tilt, a classic bob, or a Halle Berry-esque short ‘do. However, in 1996 I did the big chop, and cut off all of my beautiful, well-coiffed tresses and started sporting a little curly ‘fro. It was just in time for a trip with some girlfriends to the Bahamas, and I loved the freedom it gave me to swim to my heart’s content. Since I was also playing volleyball, softball, and basketball at the time, I saw the decision as highly practical. However, my husband at the time was a bit taken aback—he fit into the women-should-have-long-hair category of male. The release of my hair was soon followed by my release from my marriage, but that’s a whole other story. My mother was also shocked by such a drastic cut (interestingly, she is now sporting that very style). However, she recovered quickly and mentioned as long as I never got those dirty-looking dreadlocks, she would be fine. Right there, the first time I truly took note of the perception of locs as being dirty.

So we fast forward to 2002, when I decided to do something about the thinning hair on my crown, making it hard to walk confidently with the short style I’d been sporting and loving for years. I had also finally stopped using perms and texturizers on my ‘fro, and allowed my natural curls, passed down by my father, to spring forth on their own. So what was the solution? I took up the offer of a wonderful co-worker friend, and let her try out some baby twists—I had just enough hair length. I am grateful for her efforts to get me started. I know now if I had the option to re-start them, I would do things differently, and go to a more experienced loctition. Although I had made a conscious choice to shift to this new hairdo, I was experiencing inner conflict. I had allowed my friend to use beeswax and gel, however, the heavy use of such products in my hair left me feeling shellacked and unable to breathe through my head—what I now know as my crown chakra.

You know how when you buy a new car, you start to see the same car driving on the highway all the time? Well, a similar phenomenon happened with my twists. I started to see and meet so many people twisting and locking. I started to get the question, are you going to loc? The verdict was still out, but eventually I got the nudge to move forward, and I said yes. All it took was my heart’s commitment to make my wallet commit, as well. I went to see a hair stylist in Richmond, where I was working at the time, to help me along in the process. She came highly recommended as a loctition. What a journey it has been since then!

I learned a lot in those early days. I had never swallowed the Kool-Aid about there being “good” hair and “nappy” hair for those of us with African roots. However, I learned that my softer hair, what would typically be known as “good” hair, was not so good for locking. It took a year from start to finish, because my hair was too soft to mat without help. I had to go through some months without washing it, but I learned how to steam my hair and clean my scalp in other ways.

Once my hair locked, I thought I was set. Was I wrong! My hair went through phases where I could do nothing with it. It was like the locs had a mind of their own. I shot beautiful footage of eleven days spent in Ghana in 2003, and for years I cringed while watching scenes where someone turned my video camera on me. I was deep in the midst of a crazy can’t-do-nothing-with-these-locs phase. My thick unibrow at the time did not help.

I was so relieved when my hair reached the length to fit in a ponytail! It was easier for playing softball, and for adding styling options. I let them grow, and grow until they reached my butt, circa 2012. By that time, I had traded more competitive, active sports in for swimming pool workouts—arthritis had begun to rear its ugly head. The pool was great on my lower joints, but not so much on my hair, or neck. Wet locs are extremely heavy, especially on top of the head. It didn’t make sense to get relief from knee pain by exercising in the pool, only to start experiencing neck pain and headaches. By lopping off the locs to my upper back, they were able to fit—just barely—into a swim cap. Less hair also eliminated some of the time spent shampooing.

I had also discovered that long locs are weighty and pull on the hair roots, which helped to contribute to my hair’s tendency to thin. The cotton scarves I wear to protect my crown  during the day and protect my hair at night have served as an unknowing accomplice to thinning, as well. I broke a 6-year hair dresser hiatus in 2013 and saw a loctition who hipped me to the situation. I received a beautiful updo that effectively hid my growing thin spot. Unfortunately, all the pins to keep the hair in place got quite uncomfortable, and my hair started to itch. That style lasted maybe a week. I knew that was not a long-term solution.

Within the past few years, I’ve seen what seems like legions of my loc-lucious friends and family drop like flies—at least, their locs have. Some of them have started over, many have not. The reasons are many, and not really relevant to me. What I need to focus on is my choice.

The pros and cons of the style of hair I maintain on top of my head maintain a continuous dance inside of my head. I’m shocked at the level of attachment I have to this style I’ve held onto for the longest stretch of my adult life. Locs have released me from my former state of never having a hair out of place because they are never ultra-neat, since I tend to nurture them myself vs. pay large sums to a stylist. My locs have snaked down to my mid-back yet again, despite my periodic trims, so my hair can go up in a variety of styles, and in various types of wraps. Unfortunately, wearing my hair up—weather it’s wet or not—for long periods of time can stress my neck. However, my ego rears its vain head at the thought of wearing my hair down without covering the thinning areas. My aromatherapy potion to regenerate growth in the thin spots is working to some degree, and in pure Jesse Jackson style, I “keep hope alive!” But then there’s the energy issue. I’ve found that my locs are antennae for others' energy. As an empath, I can absorb energy, emotions etc. if I am not careful, especially as a healer working in close proximity of my clients, a professor surrounded by a classroom of students, and a commuter using various forms of public transportation. It takes a great deal of effort to cleanse, not just clean, my locs.

So what’s a woman to do? To cut out the locs or not seems to be the issue up for my personal debate.  I may not have the answer yet, but I know that the question has arisen for a reason, and the answer will come (so Giuliana Rancik, I thank you for allowing yourself to be used for my personal growth and development). All I have to do is keep my crown clear and cleansed, and I’ll receive from Spirit all the guidance I need to choose whether or not I will keep a loc on it.

To find out about my holistic offerings, visit my website at www.mindbodyandspiritworks.com. To tune in to my radio show, Mind, Body & Soul Food, visit www.blogtalkradio.com/tonyaparker.