A long, oily plait means a nerd.
A short , unruly mop means a tomboy .
A neat bun is a schoolteacher.
A short perky bob is a flirt .
But what is a thick mop of unruly curls make you?
It made me a Gollywog , a fact not helped by my father’s constant teasing that I was picked up from Ajegule market when we lived in Africa.
Luckily for me the use of this derogatory word was banned and I was called another name “Indira Gandhi” largely because of my long nose and dour expression.
But my entire existence has been spent in trying to tame my hair into something more presentable.This was in the days before hair spas and treatments that relaxed your hair and massaged your ego so I had to resort to overnight oiled hair and herbal concoctions to make my hair silky and smooth.
I must have done something right because one of my neighbours began calling me Demi Moore as I walked around the garden with my oversized glasses till one day Mr M ,the acknowledged rake in our building rolled down his window and leered at me and asked me to accompany him to the Race Course!
The next day I pulled my hair in an unflattering poly tail when I went for a walk.
I don’t know why a woman is judged by her hair.
The strangest reaction I got was feel a steer urchin who refused to eat a sandwich I’d given him, preferring to pass it on to someone else. When I asked him why he said because it was non-vegetarian . I was astounded when he told me that my short hair and Western wear made him come to such a conclusion!
Today after all these years, my hair has become thin and flyaway , peppered with white and grey. I didn’t know how different I looked till a friend from the past remarked ” How different you are! You don’t look like you anymore! ”
I wondered what she classified me as now.
, “I’m breaking stereotypes based on appearance by sharing my experience for the #IAmCapable activity at BlogAdda in association with Nihar Naturals.”