Appropriating Anxiety

I was recently boxed and shipped Same Day to the porch of hell by a TikTok tirade: A lovely young woman of color – black woman, black girl, African American, choose your weapon – was in an almighty freakout over white women (or anyone not of her race) with the audacity to wear cornrows or braids. I have to say again, she was very young. Maybe late high school, possible freshman year of college and taking midterms in her African Studies course. I understand this state.

“These hairstyles are very specific to our culture and stem from our shared history of slavery and oppression.” She was emphatic in her belief that if we understood and respected the meaning of this hairstyle, we wouldn’t DARE to put it on our head. The fact that we do it underscores our willful ignorance, and perpetuates the crime of ongoing appropriation of their culture. She went on at length with stories of African peoples using hair to express themselves and convey their positions of wealth and standing in their tribe. It continued as a means of covert communication in the fields of slave owners. More importantly, it’s an extension of our (we, the landed gentry) continued ‘ownership’ of black culture, from professional sports to music, fashion, and dance.

If this had been any context other than social media, I would’ve loved to have a real conversation with her. (Let’s face it, there’s nothing very social about shouting one’s personal Pentecost into the void hoping to get Likes from strangers.) If I had the opportunity, I’d tell her she’s right: We don’t know enough about her culture, or the daily pain and frustration our ignorance causes. While I’ve never considered wearing cornrows, it hasn’t been out of reverence and respect for anyone’s heritage. It would just look REALLY stupid on me. I’ll even say ALL white people look ridiculous in them. It smacks of a desperation to look cool. “To Look Cool.” Annoyed Little Miss, accepting that we’re ignorant, does it occur to you that when someone else is embracing an element of your style, it’s a sign of admiration? Or when is a hairstyle just a hairstyle?

There’s not a man alive who understands the full weight, inequity, peril, annoyance, obligation, and daily frustration of being a woman. So should I be insulted by drag queens? Many of them a far prettier than me WHILE they’re wearing death-defying heels and have their junk folded, mutilated and shoved up into their own butt. I’m perturbed (and straight up jealous) that a man can achieve a far superior example of feminine beauty than I can on my best day, but good for you, honey! This being the case, I’ll also tell them to be very careful out in the world. They’re likely to meet some of that peril we face every day, which will get worse if you surprise them by being a ‘dude.’ [Tragically, self defense capabilities are often built into a queen’s armature; the rest of us girls should take a lesson since toxic masculinity doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.]

When we extend her argument out to music and dance, does it support the case of only white European people being accepted in classical music? That seemed to be the rule for centuries, but not any more! Black and Hispanic composers are making inroads; there are several opera singers and revered orchestral conductors (I was lucky to work with James DePriest while I was in college; the man was magnificent). Are we free to enjoy and admire their talent even if it’s in a genre that they weren’t born into?

There are certainly those who’ll be put out by the idea. We call them bigots: those who believe themselves to be naturally superior to another race. Sometimes they’re full-blown racists: those who believe in a systemic hierarchy where inferior races are actively kept separate and subservient. But is it possible that the adjustment or over-correction can be almost as harmful as the original mess?