Ten Year Reflections

On Saturday November 12, 2011 I made a decision that would end up changing my life. That was the day I dreaded my hair. How did changing my hairstyle change my life? First, let’s consider where I was at in life ten years ago.

Origins

A frequently asked question I get is why did I decide to get dreadlocks? Was it for some spiritual or political statement? The answer is less sexy than you might think. I just wanted to grow my hair out for a whole calendar year. Then I looked into dreadlocks and thought it would be something cool and different to close out the year. In the past I’ve had a mohawk, a mullet, and a shaved head. I liked wearing and doing things that stood out (maybe that is me wrestling through “middle child syndrome?”). So, I figured dreading my hair was the next logical step in my hairstyle evolution.

However, at the time I didn’t consider how long it would take to get dreads. My last hair cut was in November of 2010, right before my senior basketball season. I then grew my hair for a year and decided I would dread my hair the week after my first college football season (I didn’t want to get dreads during the season because I didn’t know what it would be like under the helmet).

So, on a cloudy November Saturday morning, my friend Alex and I went to a lounge at our college, threw some How I Met Your Mother on the TV, and he started separated my hair into different sections (there ended up being about 75 tuffs of hair). The next step was to then backcomb each of the sections. The whole process took about 10 hours. For all of Alex’s hard work, I paid him by buying a pizza that we shared (was that a dirtbag move? Perhaps.). Neither of us had any idea the process would take that long, so Alex and I made an agreement in which I would keep my dreads one year for every hour that he spent (thus the 10 years). Also, I didn’t realize that dreads take about 6 months before they start looking decent. It was practically unthinkable that I would cut them before I had time with them looking good.

Life with Dreadlocks

I wasn’t sure how people would react to my new hairstyle, but here are some of the responses and questions I’ve had over the years:

I was mistaken for a teammate who is mixed race and also has dreads.
Some of the chefs and custodial workers who were black would strike up conversations with me more often. And Tony and Hurvey behind the grill at Café Mac would hook me up with larger portions of food.
I once attended an historically black church with a teammate and some of the congregants asked my friend if I was black/mixed race.
Numerous people have either asked to buy drugs from me, sell drugs to me, or if I knew where they could go to get high. In Mexico vendors would call out, “Ayy Rasta! You want a pipe??”
Random people on the street have called out to me saying they like my hair.
Random people ask if they can touch my hair (which is weird).
If there is another white person with dreads, people think I look “exactly like them” and that we “could be twins” even if our hairstyle is the only thing we have in common.
People often say/ask, “You can’t wash them, can you?” That is usually how it is posed, not, “Can you wash them?” And yes, I can wash them, I just don’t do it as often because they absorb a lot of water and getting them dry is a hassle.
When my beard was bigger I was mistaken for a homeless person.
Kids in South Africa called me “Coach Rasta.”
A couple people have accused me of cultural appropriation.
For the past ten years, my hair has been my primary identifier. People often remember me as “that guy with dreads.”
When talking trash to a guy from Ripon, he yelled out, “F*** you, hippie!” Which gave me a good laugh.
My dreads were what caught my wife’s eye the first time she saw me.

What Have My Dreads Meant to Me?

At the time of writing, my hair has been the longest commitment I’ve ever had (with the possible exception being my relationship with God). Having dreads fits into my persona as a “walking contradiction.” I’ve been asked if I prefer to fit in or stand out, and I strongly desire both. I don’t like being the center of attention and at times want to feel like just another member of a team- a background player. At the same time, I don’t want to be overlooked or forgotten, and I often fear that my presence doesn’t matter. Maybe my hair has been a way to make an impression and stick in people’s minds? It’s harder to slip through the cracks when you look different. That has felt both like a blessing and a curse.

A few months ago the thought of cutting my hair produced anxiety in me. I don’t quite know why it felt so overwhelming. I know I am not defined by my hair, and yet my hairstyle has become a part of me. The thought of cutting my hair felt a little bit like losing a good friend. Someone who travelled the world with me. Went through college and grad school with me. Was right beside me as I transitioned from boyhood to manhood. Was with me as I went from singleness to married life. Maybe I’m afraid that cutting my hair will mean a complete detachment from parts of my life that meant so much to me? Without dreads will I turn into a boring stiff? Just another guy? Would being “just another guy” be so bad? Would I feel a need to compensate be getting more tattoos? My friend Al (see above) suggested I get a head tattoo to make up for the lack of dreads. I don’t think I’m bad enough for that . . .

Maybe my hair has been a reflection of how I feel on the inside. If internally I feel like an outsider, why not have an appearance that shows that to be true? I wonder if having short hair will feel like I’m denying who I feel I am? If my hair is a way I present myself, what will I be presenting with short hair? Will I have to depend on my personality alone to be interesting in social settings? Maybe that’s not such a bad thing though. I might surprise myself.

It’s hard to imagine what life would be like if I never got dreadlocks. I honestly don’t know what my life would look like if I didn’t make that decision ten years ago. I’m grateful for the things I’ve learned and the experiences I’ve had with my hair. I’ve learned a lot about myself and a little more about the world because of it. I don’t know what the next ten years will bring, but I trust by God’s grace I will continue to grow even if my hair doesn’t.