Jessica's Race: Part II

Many issues of race in the US continue to bombard me during my re-entry period to the US. While I dwell on these tough issues, I’m also happy to write about lighter moments on the topic of race too, like this little anecdote from last week.

I was waiting for Hayden to check out DC’s H Street Corridor, an up-and-coming neighborhood with a lot of houses for sale. I like the area. It’s a mixed neighborhood: white yuppies and black families seem to co-exist without too much drama. To kill time, I went inside a CVS. Still newly returned to the US, I actually love pharmacies. I love browsing the convenience of all of the items that were so deeply coveted in Gulu. Nail polish and chocolate chip cookies and razors and Advil PM all located in one place. Above all, my favorite section in these modern day super drug stores is the hair products section. I can literally stand in the aisle for hours perusing products. The best part is that for once I can usually manage to squelch my otherwise eager buying impulses. For some reason, while I do frequently purchase hair products, I get equal satisfaction from simply scanning the selection and spotting new miracle cures for my dry curly biracial hair.

I entered the store and immediately drifted to the aisle of hair. To my delight, I discovered that the “ethnic” line of products, the section that is usually attributed about 11% of the aisle in a normal convenience store, was easily half of the aisle. It was olive oil sheens and deep conditioners galore. There were easily 50 anti-breakage formulas to choose from. My hair, after three and half years in Gulu, has been through a lot and its damage has been a constant and major source of stress in my life. I began to obsess about deep conditioners and anti-breakage potions while living there and I’m delighted to have access to these miracle products 24/7 these days.

I share my obsession with hair care products and African American hair products in particular with black people around the world. I won’t dwell on it, since there are books and documentaries on black hair (check out Chris Rock’s documentary, which addresses the obsession and investment and the art of black hair.) My obsession is unique of course. My hair, emblematic of my life, literally falls between product lines. I therefore often dabble in hair care chemistry to get the right mix between black and white hair needs.

When I entered the aisle, I did a quick scan and the enormity of the selection seeped in. My heart quickened and I skidded back and forth without really focusing on any one item. As I regained my composure, I returned to the beginning of the section and slowly and systemically examined each product in order to see all that there was on offer. So many hair care lines! It was wonderful. I picked up and examined bottles and sprays and lotions and jellies. My mind began to drift back to the topic at hand…vetting this neighborhood. How great it was to live in a mixed neighborhood, which could ease my hair woes! Perhaps this was emblematic of my overall crave to have both cultures in my life.

When Hayden walked in to find me, I exclaimed to him, “you know, living in this neighborhood would be awesome, because I would have access to all of these amazing black hair products!” He looked at me with a hesitant smile, as if to say “ok, Jess, whatever floats your boat. I know it’s probably best to just smile and nod.” He grabbed my hand and I shook out my hair which got caught up in the breeze as we walked out of the store, just like a pantene commercial.