Whether the product of do-it-yourself haircuts or just plain neglect, folks are emerging from home with heads in need of some serious TLC.
For months, social media was full of #CoupleCuts and #QuarantineCuts. We didn’t have either in my house, mainly because the three of us — my son, my husband and I — are particular about our hair.
Pre-pandemic, my hub had a standing appointment with his stylist every few weeks, and he dutifully applied professional products, from shampoo to pomade. Like his dad, my son doesn’t go more than a few weeks without a shape-up and beard trim.
And although I said goodbye to chemical straighteners nearly a decade ago, I’ve colored my hair since 2013.
Given our allegiance to our hair, all three of us knew there would be no at-home cuts. We did consider other quarantine styling, and I kept a custom at-home color from Madison Reed in my online shopping cart for a couple of days trying to decide which family member would do the best job touching up my roots.
Meanwhile, my son’s hair was growing like crazy. He talked about growing dreadlocks and wondered whether now was a good time to experiment with twists — you know, when nobody would see it.
A few weeks into quarantine, he asked me to do it for him. I thought it would be fun. Cutting and color are intimidating, but braiding hair — or, in this case, twisting — felt like something I could manage. As a child, I spent hours sitting in front of my older cousins while they braided my hair. When the weather was nice, we sat on the front porch, gossiping and listening to music. If it was raining or cold, we’d gather in the living room in front of the TV watching Soul Train or some movie to pass the time.
With no option to go out during quarantine, we set up Mom’s Living Room Salon. My son organized his pillows and took the spot that millions of kids (especially Black ones) have taken for generations — on the floor in front of moms.
We’d bonded over hair products when he was in middle school, just as I went natural and my son’s years-old mohawk grew into a gorgeous afro. (I’ll never forget the time my husband found the olive oil not in the kitchen, but in the upstairs shower.) But, other than pay for his hair products and occasional visits to the shop for deep conditioning, trims and shape-ups, I didn’t have much of a role in my son’s hair upkeep. Every now and then, I’d get summoned to his room to pick out the back of his hair. Otherwise, he was on his own.
Over the years, my son’s afro got smaller, and he eventually cut it off in exchange for a low fade. He looked so handsome and grown up, I could hardly stand it. By this time, we’d also lost any connection we once had over hair — he was paying for his own upkeep.
So, maybe you can imagine what it was like settling into Mom’s Living Room Salon after so many years, all by virtue of a pandemic. Hub picked out a movie and grabbed a blanket, taking a place on the couch. I picked up my comb and gel and went to work.
It is an intimate act, taking care of someone’s hair. It requires trust. When I decided to color my hair in 2013, I opted for a friend’s kitchen instead of a salon. What I loved most was the community and fellowship that came with the color. We laughed and sang along with the radio. We enjoyed each other’s company and celebrated my transformation at her hands. When she moved out of town, I started doing it myself.
At Mom’s Living Room Salon, the movie ended and I put the final touches on my son’s hair. I understood what COVID-19 had returned to us, at least for a time: the intimacy of activities we’ve turned into transactions. Cooking. Exercising. Watching a movie. Doing our hair.
When the barbershop finally reopened, my son headed out for a much-missed appointment. He came home with a fresh shape-up.
But my twists were still there.
TAKE ACTION: What have you discovered (or rediscovered) a love for during quarantine? Cooking with your partner? Family movie night? Board games with your kids? Twisting your son’s hair? As we return to a new normal, think about ways you can balance intimacy with transactions.