Hair and Now

If I don't cut my hair again,
I'll be back to this length in abooouuut...um...never

Time to cut my hair. Good thing I’m feeling adventurous because going to the barber can be quite the experience for me and I can only go when I have the energy to put up with the unpredictable nature of most Doha-based activities. Remember, my first trip to the barber was at Bin Omran. I had a Tunisian barber who didn’t have a pair of sharp clippers and shaped up my hairline in a way I’ve never seen before. I had the Indian wrestling fan whose lights went out and had to finish my haircut by the light of cell phone. Then I finally arrived at a guy who gets me over on Al-Saad, unfortunately, I no longer live on Al-Saad. But I’m willing to make the trip. Barbers are plentiful here and most are very good because being well-groomed is very important in the Arab world. And a nice population of black African Muslims means that there are some barbers who know how to cut a black man’s hair (the difference in texture makes all the difference). 

My Doha barber's good, but has NO IDEA
what to do with my sideburns.

African-Americans are famous for being particular about their hair, men and women alike. It’s imperative for us to put our heads in the hands of those we trust. In our communities, it’s one of the things that define us, a crown of sorts. I’ve experimented with all kinds of hairstyles over the course of my lifetime, probably more than the average black dude.

Lookin' like Theo Huxtable at 19.

Most of my friends kept it pretty basic: a neat, low cut with a sharp line, sometimes with waves (if you have the patience), with occasional forays into afros, braids, tapers, flattops and dreds. I’ve had perms, I’ve dyed and twisted my hair various ways, I’ve had s-curl and baldies. I’ve enjoyed having a variety of “dos” over the years, but the end result of a lifetime of experimentation is a head of slowly-thinning locks with a weird hairline that dances a careful dance with my rather large forehead. Fate accepted; experimentation continues, however.

I don't know what this was;
my girlfriend was my stylist.

I’ve been growing my hair out for a coupla months in hopes of being able to adopt a new hairstyle that I discover somewhere along the way. As a youth, not cutting my hair for two months would result in being mistaken for one of the Jackson 5. As a 33 year old victim of ever-decreasing rate of growth, it’s barely noticeable.  So here I am, 7 weeks after my last trip to the barber. My last cut was by a Dominican dude back in NY; I wish I could transport him here.

My dude was NICE. You just can't teach that, can ya?

I currently have more than a few hairs on my head, but not quite as much as I hoped I would have. Right now I’m rocking one of those hairstyles that safe, older black dudes sometimes rock. I wouldn’t call it a “’fro,” it’s more like a “’fraux.” A nice little self-maintained field of black hair covering my sphere, not too sharply lined up, never brushed or combed too neatly. It says “I’m not very vain, but I have to maintain the ability to look presentable in a dress shirt at a moment’s notice.”

It was either a haircut or a bottle of wine.
Priorities, people. Priorities.

It’s not enough to go too crazy with, but enough to satisfy my urge to do something interesting. I’m thinking of getting a Mohawk (a fauxhawk? A StarPohawk?). I’ve wanted one for a little while, and usually chickened out because of how damn weird it’ll look with my oddly-shaped dome. But now that’s kinda the reason I want to get it. I’m firmly back in my artistic zone, and I like to be a visual representation of how I create and feel. As an artist, I’m fearless, risky and innovative. Just having a Mohawk is none of those things, but walking around here with one is something like it, and seeing myself with such a different design up top is just outside of my comfort zone enough for me to feel that sense of being off-balance a little bit that is important to me. I’ve only seen my guy do one style that was close to a Mohawk on a black guy. I’ve seen him do fresh Arab and Indian versions. I’m going to go in with an open mind. The worse that can happen is I don’t like it, and I have to have the heart to tell him to just cut it all off. Eventually I’d like to grow dredlocks anyway, and I think time may be running out on that idea, so if the StarPohawk doesn’t come out looking right, maybe it’ll jumpstart my way in that direction. Stay tuned.