One thing you may have heard, or already know about me. I’m a snob. And it would appear that I have been one for a long time, which suggests that were this an academic programme, I would have several Doctorates. The book-writing, motivational-talk-giving, radio-programme-participating Dr of Letters. With a TED series never mind a TED talk! I believe it has something to do with my nose being in the air… One thing you may not already know about me? TemplePatch and NapePatch have been a part of my life since I was 11 years old. I’d always had good hair - although it was fine in texture, it was healthy, long and manageable. As the alopecia ‘gobbled it up’, its natural state meant that humidity would cause it to shrink, leaving Temple and Nape exposed. So my Mum bit the bullet and I went to the local salon. Sadly, it was the time of the curly perm – (ala Mukadota’s Katarina or Whitney Houston), or the straight perm (ala Pocahontas ). The best way to get a ‘sillyhairgoback’ style. So we went to the salon. The consultation began with my Mum explaining that ‘it’ wasn’t contagious, before leaving to buy the lotions that they felt they would require from the shop beneath the salon. Then the hairdresser called other people to come and have a look whilst moving my head backwards and forwards with my hair to avoid having to touch it. As if I couldn’t see that her face was screwed up in disgust in the mirror. As a seasoned African child, I was accustomed to having my head moved around as an older female decided what to do with my hair, but this was a stranger who was calling other strangers over to gawp. To add insult to injury, I had to explain what ’it’ was, why I had it, (Lord only knows!), and all whilst smiling and pretending I was fine with all the attention. My Mum returned with the requested gloves, creams and straightening lotions which then did their noxious job. As we left, I dutifully thanked the hairdresser as I smiled to show my ‘pleasure’ at the hair plastered across my scalp like a cheap greasy toupee. The patches were covered but the chemical smell soon killed my hair’s will to live and the Patches reigned. Pretty soon, I could barely comb over TemplePatch, and Nape had spread to such an extent that she was making her way UP to meet Temple in person. Strangers would point and laugh on the bus, so I began trying to hide NapePatch by scrunching my shoulders up to cover Nape’s nakedness. Which in turn would result in...my nose in the air. It helped to keep the tears from leaking. My name is AfroBren and I'm So Not (what) Others Believe.
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April 2016
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