Hair Goals
Week 3, Day 3
“Would you sit still for a minute? Or is baldness your goal?” I had let go of the braid I was trying to create and put my hands on Starr’s shoulders and she was still squirming. “Seriously, though — I don’t want to yank your hair out but I totally will if you’re not careful.”
“Shit — sorry. Ok. Lemme go pee first and I promise to sit still after.” She slid off the stool I’d set up for her in the middle of her room and skittered for the bathroom.
I looked at my watch and shook my head. “We’re going to be so late.” No one heard me but I felt a bit calmer after I let the words out. I didn’t like being late. I didn’t particularly like braiding hair. If anyone other than Starr had asked me I wouldn’t have been there, but she had, so I was.
I don’t think Starr understood the power she had back then. Scratch that — I know she didn’t. Her lack of awareness was part of what gave her the power in the first place. She was a genuine Good Person, the only one I’d met at that point. When you’re in high school there’s a much greater proportion of Horrible People than Good People, and the difference is enhanced by the general lack of self confidence that most Regular People have at that age.
I was a Regular Person. Regular and fairly invisible, and that was fine by me. Starr wasn’t my only friend but she for sure was my most visible and that caused its fair share of problems. That was why, on that sweaty Friday night, I was standing in the middle of her bedroom with my hands cramping due to the work required to braid her kinky mane of hair. She wanted to go to the “Spring Fling” and wanted to have “cool hair” which was important because she would be the center of attention and we both knew it.
Starr squeezed my arm and gave a “squee” before sitting back down and folding her hands in her lap. “Ok. I promise. I won’t move a muscle until you’re done.”
“You know I have, like, a whole half of your head to work through before we’re done, right? No way do I believe you right now.”
She laughed and made a big show of taking a cleansing breath like they’d taught us in health class earlier that week. The unit was almost as big of a joke as her sitting still for the hours it was going to take to do her hair but we’d glommed onto the cleansing breath and it had become a bit we both did to and for each other.
“Girl, just sit.” I picked up where I’d left off, grabbing sections of her hair and working them into braids. Starr had taped her Hair Goals photo to her mirror and the beautiful Black model stared at me, daring me to make Starr’s hair look as good as hers.
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