today i washed my dreads for the first time, which is something I'm excited about but feel compelled not to share. "Hurray! I washed my hair!" That just makes all the dread-nay-sayers continue to believe that dreads are gross.
They're not gross. They are clean. It's not like I only shower once a week. That would be gross. It is a precarious thing trying to shower without getting the mess ontop of my head wet, but I've been doing that for a week now.
But hurray! Today I crossed some invisible and unnamed sort of dread-lock bench-mark and I washed my hair for the first time. Celebrate with me everyone!
Yesterday I went to the natural food store in Wooster where a wonderfully helpful lady pointed me straight to the soap she used for her dreads once upon a time. Her hair was long and beautifully curly now: no trace of knots left. She told me stories about bike trips and told me how her dreads came about. Hers were legitimately "neglect dreads." She was my new hero that day, although I did find myself feeling like a less legitimate "dread-head" next to this woman who just literally let her hair do what it wanted.
Mine were not neglected. As i said, 6 hours and 6 hands. That's sort of the opposite of neglect.
But that's the trend I want to set. Now that I know I can do it without 6 hours of work poofing into a matted ball of loose hair, I am going to be the cleanest dread-head I can be.
If only all this beeswax didn't feel so gross to touch, maybe people would stop touching my hair and saying "eww."
That's the next benchmark: when I don't need beeswax anymore.
Sunday I get to show off my dreads to my Mennonite Church community for the first time. Lovely people: They feel like family, but sometimes family has an authority to speak with a bite. I won't be one bit surprised if one or two folks sing the same tune as my mother: "why would you do that to your hair!"
I can't wait.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
day 4
Yesterday a lady rolled down her car window and shouted an enthusiastic "I love your hair" as she approached the traffic light and turned the corner out of view. It made me feel like a million bucks that a random stranger would feel compelled to cross that invisible barrier we put up here in the western world: this "privacy wall" I love to see shattered.
I've been somewhat surprised by the reactions so far. Really the only signs of disapproval I've gotten haven't been more than "no comment," and the occasional "that's gross..." As the receptionist at a midwifery with a mostly Amish clientele, I didn't know what to think when it came to work. The staff is the best you could ask for with personalities that make me feel like I'm just hanging out; so I wasn't too worried about what my co-workers would say. And to be honest, my experience with the Amish is that, regardless of how opinionated they may or may not feel, they tend to show faces of even-keeled humility more often than strong emotions of disapproval or negativity.
I remember my Amish cousins telling my sister her short hair looked "dumb" when we were all too young to counteract that urge to say exactly what we felt and to laugh at whatever looked different, but I really can't remember any other strong words of disapproval since then. My energetic little Amish granny barely said anything even when I chopped all my hair off about 3 years ago.
I do remember her shuffling up to my ponytail about a year ago and squinting with her slowly failing eyes, waiting until she was so close that she could reach out and feel the ponytail with her fingers to say, "Oh good, your hair's growing back. I like it better this way."
...I think i'll visit grandma this weekend.
I've been somewhat surprised by the reactions so far. Really the only signs of disapproval I've gotten haven't been more than "no comment," and the occasional "that's gross..." As the receptionist at a midwifery with a mostly Amish clientele, I didn't know what to think when it came to work. The staff is the best you could ask for with personalities that make me feel like I'm just hanging out; so I wasn't too worried about what my co-workers would say. And to be honest, my experience with the Amish is that, regardless of how opinionated they may or may not feel, they tend to show faces of even-keeled humility more often than strong emotions of disapproval or negativity.
I remember my Amish cousins telling my sister her short hair looked "dumb" when we were all too young to counteract that urge to say exactly what we felt and to laugh at whatever looked different, but I really can't remember any other strong words of disapproval since then. My energetic little Amish granny barely said anything even when I chopped all my hair off about 3 years ago.
I do remember her shuffling up to my ponytail about a year ago and squinting with her slowly failing eyes, waiting until she was so close that she could reach out and feel the ponytail with her fingers to say, "Oh good, your hair's growing back. I like it better this way."
...I think i'll visit grandma this weekend.
Monday, July 26, 2010
day 2: showing the folks
I went to the local coffee shop this morning for the public debut of the dreadlocks. The reactions were as to be expected: some enthusiastic and curious and some less so...
The real event however was a trip to my parents' place to celebrate my older sister's birthday. My parents have known about my plan for dreads since I sprung the idea on them on Thanksgiving: (not the least obnoxious holiday conversation I've had.) My mom fought it for awhile sending me various clever little texts and emails in attempt to "show me the light" about how gross and ugly they would be. One day she called and told me she had dyed her hair half blonde and half black. I played along for a few minutes affirming her and such until he finally admitted she hadn't really dyed her hair but "wouldn't that have looked rediculous? Wouldn't you have wanted to stop me?"
you see where she was going?
of course.
As the weeks went on she quieted down and accepted that, A: it was never going to graduate from just talk, or B: I would do it without a second thought to whether it looked "gross and ugly" to her or not.
so she resigned gracefully.
My dad must certainly dislike the idea of dreads. He doesn't even like when I straighten my hair. But he makes it his primary goal to make me feel free to do with my hair, body, or life as I choose. He's quite successful at it too. I could do any number of crazy things to my appearance and Dad would keep his opinion respectfully to himself.
I was expecting a bit of a show when I went to my parents' place tonight: even hoping for it perhaps but my parents responded beautifully. Mom looked at them, shrugged and said that it looked a little like when my hair was straightened. Dad barely commented at all.
Tomorrow's adventure will be attempting to deal with grody, post-run dreads. I will wash them and I will probably hate re-twisting them for who knows how long.
we shall see
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Day 1
Here's the scoop.
I am a young, 24 year old Mennonite girl who's just moved back to my hometown in Amish Country Ohio to help the church of my growing-up years start an intentional community.
Now if i've just gotten you all excited about intentional community-living, go visit my other blog: http://www.livingactsmmc.blogspot.com
This particular blog is about the little endeavor that I'm sure will become a sometimes frustrating/sometimes delightful adventure....
having dreadlocks in Holmes County Ohio.
This whole shinannigans started about...12 hours ago when i returned from my best bud's wedding. It's generally a nice gesture to look as pretty as possible if you're in a friend's wedding party so I've been holding off on this little experiment until now.
It took roughly 6 hours to do, but two other bridesmaids, my twin sister and college friend, and myself have dreadlocked my otherwise ordinary hair into nice little nappy strings. The first hour or so had me staving off some panic as my older sister reminded me of our family pictures in two weeks, and my brother-in-law reminded me of the traditional Mennonite "tent-revival" I had agreed to go to in a week.
Thus: a blog.
If anyone reads this crazy little scribble-fest, you will get to read about how these awkward events go.
How does a little mennonite girl surrounded by her loving but very Amish relatives get by with a less-than traditional hair-style?
That's the question i'll be thinking over as I try to sleep tonight.
If you have questions about the Amish or dread-lock tips, send them my way! (That is, if I have any readers. Otherwise i'll start signing in with "dear diary".)
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