Years ago, I was in a book club with a group of friends, one of whom had a gorgeous head of thick, dark, wavy hair. One night the six of us got into a heated literary discussion about how often we washed our hair, and I was shocked to discover that “every day” (my preferred frequency) was not the gold standard. Most women, apparently, wash their hair only a couple of times a week, because it’s “bad for your hair” to do otherwise. (I continue to wash my hair daily, because it’s “bad for my self-esteem” to wear bacon grease for a hat.) The wavy-haired woman, we’ll call her Kathryn, because that is her name, shared that she only washed her hair once a week, in part because it took several days for her hair to dry.
My brain could not take this in. My hair, on even the most humid day, takes maybe seven minutes to blow dry, and that's if I’m really taking my time.
Why don’t you use a hair dryer? I asked.
I do, she said.
Like one that plugs into a wall and blows hot air?
She assured me that her hair dryer was the kind that plugs into a wall and blows hot air.
Do you use the heat setting? Does your dryer have a strong enough motor? You can buy one with a more powerful motor, I told her.
She patiently explained—and I’m paraphrasing here—that she could spend an hour blow drying her hair with the engine of a burning prop plane and the bottom layers would still be damp for days.
DAYS.
I could not absorb this information. Could not let it stand.
Do you towel dry it first? I asked. To get rid of the excess water?
In fact I do, she said, growing visibly (rightfully) irritated with my badgering.
The group was just staring at me at this point, bemused, like they couldn’t quite figure out whether I was trying to be funny or was somehow financially invested in how long it took our friend’s hair to dry.
Sensing that I was being silly and annoying and should probably let the whole thing go, I proceeded to demonstrate with an imaginary bath towel the proper way to towel-dry one’s hair.
You have to put your wrists into it, I said. Now, you try.
I handed her the imaginary towel.
No I didn’t.
But I might as well have.
This was probably ten years ago, and I still cringe when I think about it. What was wrong with me? Why was it so impossible for me to imagine that maybe (just maybe) it wasn’t my tools and technique that enabled my tresses to dry so quickly, but my ridiculous single-ply hair? Why was I so convinced that I was “right” and that my friend, a grown-ass woman who had known her hair FOR HER ENTIRE LIFE, was doing something wrong? And most importantly, why was I finding it so immensely difficult to just shut the f*ck up?
I realize this story sounds silly and small. But in that moment, the exchange felt uncomfortably revealing. Like there was something ugly in me that my friends could now see. Something childish and petty and unyielding. Now I wonder how many far less innocuous times I’ve used my own narrow lived experience as a yardstick to measure others and find them coming up short. And how many times I will still.
I’m reminded of this story because of this weekend’s Oscars, where Chris Rock made a G.I. Jane joke about Jada Pinkett-Smith’s bald head and Will Smith walked onstage and slapped Rock to defend Jada’s honor. I woke up Monday morning to an internet on fire, hot takes coming in fast and furious, ranging from pearl-clutching cries of assault to “Chris Rock had it coming.”
Before I could lob my own peels of perspective onto the compost pile, I heard black voices coming through loud and clear: “White people, you can sit this one out. There are layers to this story that you can’t understand.”
Some white people listened. Others responded with hypothetical metaphors about Will Smith punching Betty White with a rifle? White people are confusing. But I would be lying if I said I didn't bristle just a bit when asked to sit this one out. Why must I, a middle-aged white woman from Tennessee, refrain from sharing my (completely irrelevant!) opinion?
And then it sunk in, like water into a head of hair that (allegedly) will not dry*. Not everything is a matter of opinion. And when someone tells you how it is for them, closing your mouth and listening? Is always a solid option.
*I kid! I believe you, Kathryn!
Photo Credit: https://unsplash.com/@taiamint
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