Chocolate Hair/Vanilla Care: A Rant

It took six months, but it finally happened: I was accosted at the store by two black ladies who criticized the way my foster daughter's hair looked.  It is hard to be the one being judged, and especially I take criticism of my parenting extremely personally, and I'm having a hard time just letting this one go.  So here is my rant, all the things I wish time and circumstance had allotted for, and I hope that people will read this and try to adjust how they speak to others about such issues.  (I find myself REALLY wishing that I had a huge black woman following, but sadly, I fear that this blog might not be read by any.  Let me know if I'm wrong.)

Let me start by saying that I understand that hair care is part of the whole caregiver repertoire.  To that end, I have taken classes, researched styles and products, asked my black friends (and a few strangers who had the misfortune of being in the hair care aisle with me) for help.  It is a learning process, especially for someone who does very little with her own hair, and was blessed with three sons who require very little maintenance in that respect.  I am definitely still learning, trying to understand what healthy hair looks like, and it's not easy when there are differences of opinion and conflicting advice.  I am trying to do what is best for my Girl.

Because, secondly, she is not in foster care because her hair was jacked up.  She was taken from her mother because her physical safety, her very tender precious LIFE was in danger.  And because of that, my priorities in her care are first to keep her safe, to help maintain her health, second to tend to her broken heart and be a source of comfort since she is going through a very difficult time.  The way her hair looks comes at the bottom of a long list that includes positive life experiences, educational opportunities, spiritual development, having enough food to eat, a safe place to sleep, and teaching her rules and boundaries.  In these areas, I feel like I'm doing a pretty good job, and her caseworker AND biological mother agree.

Another reason her hair doesn't look great is that she is three, and a bit of a tomboy.  She tolerates medicine better than she tolerates hair care, whether it is me running a comb and some product through or getting braids done by my new best friend Shaquana.  She rubs her hair on the couch, pulls out beads and barrettes, rolls around in leaves and dirt and grass.  Her hair gets messy, dirty sometimes, and styles come out.  If given a choice between letting her be a kid and keeping her hair looking nice, I will let her be a kid EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.  She has witnessed too much for her young age, and I refuse to hurry her childhood any more than it already has been.

Finally, I'd like to address what was said to me, and what ultimately turned this into a negative experience.  I was pushing Girl in a grocery cart, along with my son James, when a woman approached me and told me I needed to get a specific product to put in her hair.  I stopped because, as I mentioned before, I am trying to learn and do better.  I'd never heard of the product she mentioned, so I asked more about it.  Another woman was walking by and joined in the conversation, and what I had thought would be a conversation turned into a verbal assault.  The two of them went back and forth on either side of my cart, RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY CHILD, and the advice about getting this hair product gave way to a general admonishment of how her hair looked.  "You shouldn't have brought her out looking like that," the woman told me.  Without giving me a chance to speak, she went on, "You're a foster parent right?" I nodded.  "They give you money, take her somewhere and spend some of that money on her," was her response.  At this point, I was shocked, and the other woman began to back away, saying, "No offense intended," but the first woman, the one who stopped me in the first place, the one who worked at the store I had just spent money at, went on.  "Put a hat on her or something.  You wouldn't take your own children out like that," were her final words as she turned away and left me face to face with a little Girl who was patting her hair and looking confused.

This is where we come face to face with Assumption and Humiliation.  Because yes, I am a foster mom and yes, "they" do give me money, and hey, guess what?  I do spend that money on her.  I pay a woman (remember, my new best friend?) to braid her hair every couple of weeks.  I buy fancy shampoo and conditioner from the health food store, not to mention a variety of detangling and moisturizing products.  She has her own set of combs, barrettes, beads, rubber bands, and headbands that we have purchased for her.  Not to mention the money we spend to clothe her, feed her, transport her to school, the activities that we do, like swimming and gymnastics.  As for my "own" kids (which is a whole other thing, because, um yeah, she IS one of "my" kids now), just ask my mom how nice their hair looks.  She will be the first to tell you the only times my boys' hair gets combed is at her house or at the barber shop.  They walk around with bedhead, they go too long between cuts, they suffer terrible hack jobs when they get gum or burrs stuck in their hair.  I spend more time, energy, and money on Girl's hair than my entire family COMBINED.  And if you've been paying attention, she doesn't keep pretty things in her hair.  She pulls out twists and braids, accessories (we've lost all the headbands we got for her), and the scarf she wears to bed is almost always on the floor when she wakes up in the morning.  So putting a hat or some other item on her head is no solution at all, but thanks for suggesting it.  What was going on yesterday then, if I'm putting all this effort into her hair?  It's been hard to make time to get new braids, since she's in school four days a week, has doctor's appointments and family visits every week, and, you know, I have three other kids to take care of.  Her hair was loose, and I hadn't had a chance to comb through it that day.  It was looking a little tight and kinky, I guess, maybe it looked too dry?  The ladies never did tell me what exactly was wrong with it, except that I needed to give her an oil treatment (which I do) and have someone put it in braids (which is happening in a few days, on the one morning we are available).  What upsets me most is that all of this was said right in front of my Girl, that she heard every word.  That I have spent the past six months earning her trust and taking care of her, and that was undone in about five minutes.  That we got home and she went to the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror and asked, "Mommy, can you do my hair?"  Up until that moment, she hadn't paid any attention to her appearance; just that morning, a friend at church smiled at her and told her she was beautiful.

I will always try to avoid the confrontation, especially in front of my children.  And so I didn't answer the charges those women leveled at me.  I didn't pass some of the blame onto Girl's birth mother, who certainly has the opportunity to style and care for her daughter's hair during their visits, because I have a personal conviction to never criticize a child's parent to their face (going back to that trust I'm trying to build with her).  I didn't offer up the figures that prove I do indeed spend money on her care.  And I can't help but wonder if they would have said any of it if my husband were the one pushing the cart.  Why is it that we applaud men just for spending time with their children, but we criticize mothers no matter what they do?

 I wish this wouldn't have happened at all.  I wish those women would have either stayed civil and conversed with me, or just kept walking and minding their own business.  But ultimately, if they think black children in our community are suffering at the hands of their white caregivers, I wish they would head downtown and get licensed to be foster parents themselves.  All they've done is make me angry and make my Girl ashamed of her appearance.  Why not do something positive instead?