Kevin Coriolan | News Editor

I have a great personality, but my hairstyle is much more attractive.

I know because hairdressers at the hair salon were noticeably envious of whoever got to trim my afro. I know because I am continually told “Kevin, your afro is gone” like I didn’t notice my scalp being pulled by my hair when it was braided the night before.

I know because I will be asked to bend over so a lucky person may pet my top and giddily exclaim, “It’s like a sheep.”

As a young man of Haitian descent, my life has been littered with moments fixed on the locks atop my head. Now my hairstyle switches from braids to afro occasionally and has been growing without a cut for 9 months. From my younger days on the playground when I was called “Fuzzball”, to more current times when I am compared to broccoli, it’s been impossible to escape unwanted attention. This attention brings fingers to my hair and times where my head feels like exploding from embarrassment.

Those times need to stop. I have cracked down on not letting people think the area around me is a portable petting zoo. Pat dogs. Feel fabric. Not people. This is my battle against feeling objectified.

Before, I was continually shocked by people asking to touch my hair that I told them “yes”. How rude must a person be to ask such a question, and how would they react if I said “no”? I have never asked to touch another’s hair, so I have no idea what mindset it requires. Some of these people are even close friends, making the “yes” out of my mouth even faster. My chance to express my feelings of violation stopped by a desire to not hurt others’ feelings. The question is extremely offensive even in the most innocent way. Say that it is no big deal, but the idea of touching my hair is a direct jab at my race.

That is why I find it so insulting—my race is part of my identity. Let’s not turn that identity into a racial play-thing. People would not ask to touch other body parts; therefore people should respect my hair the same.

The problem is racial, not only because it humiliates me, but because it singles me out. We live in a Caucasian dominated society, so you are strange if you don’t have “white” hair. This then makes me the lesson plan on black culture for the day for a lot of people. This is not a largely racist “Dear White People” message to those eyeing my hair. It is a statement of action.

Natural black hair is a fascinating subject when grown out. There are many iconic looks across history that have had Americans buzzing: Jimi Hendrix, Lenny Kravitz, Janelle Monae, First Lady Obama. To be in awe is acceptable, but to touch is disrespectable.

This is my body, temple to my soul. Where their hands have been, no one knows; however, people will touch my hair like it is a pillow just asking to be fluffed.

Touching my hair is for my significant other, my hairdresser, and my mom.

Yes, I could just shave it all off if I don’t want people in my space, but I’m proud of my roots so I am keeping it as long as I want.

Graphic by Aaron Burns