Haven't read through everything but, y'all know I had to chime in on this one. Yes, it's good to be inclusive and "we are the world," kumbiya (sp), etc. And I certainly am NOT a believer in making any assumptions about anyone based solely on race/appearance -- I have had many white/non-Black people treat me and my family with love, grace, respect and conversely, had just as many Black people act like complete idiots, on the job, at the store, yada yada. That said, I just wanna know: what the he!! happened to Black Pride? Did "they" (whoever "they" is) guilt it out of us?
Back in the 70s (yeah, I'm a lady of a certain age and I still look good, thank-you), I remember as a little girl all of the products, styles, expressions, hand-shakes, dances, foods, shows, music that were uniquely and unapologetically BLACK. Black was beautiful and we were saying it loud and proud. (James sang the song but Smokey wrote a poem all 'bout it -- check it out.) Indeed, some of my earliest memories were of holding my ears and the scent of UltraSheen Cream Satin Press (still love that smell) as we watched Don Cornelius and alllllll those fros bobin' up and down on Sooooooooul Train every other Saturday AM. My family was one of the first to integrate into our corner of the burbs (to my great dismay) and I cherished and extolled anything Afro-Sheen related and any/all things red-black-and-green with a fist silhouette or a fro or that smelled like incense and the record store.
Even as the only Black girl in my day-camp troop, when I handed my matching lucite brush and comb to the White camp counselor after a day in the pool and waited for her to make my hair pretty as she had done for the little White campers, I didn't get mad when she threw up her hands in exasperation and said (so all could hear), "I don't know what to do with this." It was the "this" that got me. Referring to my beautiful, thick, tightly coiled hair that did not like the chlorine she said "this" with such disgust and disdain -- I remember the look on the other girls' faces as I got up, put my little brush set back in my bag and went home with my hair still looking a mess. (That and the second grade teacher who told me that the White Barbie was "just betterrrr" (you know the tone) than the Black one because of the hair left an indelible impression -- not about me and my hair mind you (fortunately home gave me enough pride to combat that) but about others and the way that others view our hair. This ish is highly personally to Black Women y'all -- recognize.
We were all too happy to pump our fist and embrace all that was and is uniquely "ours." Now ... this did NOT mean that we didn't invite others in to share/witness. (Don't we always?) Quite the contrary. But the difference between then and now is that we didn't make any apologies for wanting to call it our own. If you ask me, that's what made it so attractive to everyone else.
I remember the first hints of this Black guilt 'ish in high school when the group of us Black kids who were college bound enjoyed sitting together in the lunch room. We would go back to our AP classes where we were the "onlies" and the distinguished clubs where we were the "firsts" but at fifth period, we were convening at the Black lunch table and EN-JOY-ING it and each other's company. Everyone at the table wasn't necessarily college bound but they were positive and we shared useful, low-stress info like ... there was a new "Soul-Scissors" coming to town and the girl at the last booth was the only one who knew how to do a good asymmetrical cut. We also played Uno and talked about Black Colleges that we had visited (without having to explain "why") -- which sororities we wanted to pledge, which frats had the cutest guys, whose homecoming/band was the best, etc. and do you know what? Some of the folks who weren't college bound, got sort of interested because they felt comfortable and un-judged asking/sharing ... at the Black lunch table during 5th period. We would go back to our classes/friends/interests of different backgrounds and know that the next day, we would again convene to, e.g., compare lyrics from the latest rap song hand-scribbled in pencil on a loose-leaf piece of paper. (They didn't play rap on the radio back then y'all so it was strictly underground and sort of insular.)
At some point right before the end of my junior year, some of the "enlightened" (mentally, not skin color) started passing along "concerns" from the majority students that they didn't understand why we didn't want to sit with them and they wondered what they could do to be more "all-inclusive."
In hindsight, the answer should have probably been "leave us be; we don't have a problem with you all, we just need a little US time." If that had been our response on a larger scale, our Black business communities would not have been completely decimated by integration and Blacks wouldn't be topping the unemployment rates - over and above anybody. And I know that this is a touchy subject, you have to ask, if we had continued to embrace our "us-ness," would there really be some high schools now a days where you literally never see a Black boy with a Black girlfriend? Love who you want but the phenom has GOT to give you pause.
So I say all this to say, that OU-R hair (and I have enough education/credentials to be able to pronounce "our" with two syllables when I feel like it) is OU-R thing. True, some of it looks like other peoples' and if, like the lady in Walgreens with an adopted Ethiopian baby, you ask me about Bronner Brothers grease versus Sufur8, I will gladly share that information. But please (please) know that you are stepping on hallowed ground -- OU-R hair is our Crowning Glory and I don't care if it plasters our forehead in the rain because of late-night or cross-town tipping or stands up like steel freakin' wool in the face of homemade lye, it is OU-R's!!!!! And after all of the ish that we have endured (yup, I'm talkin' bout rejection from some of our own) because of it, we have earned the right to include or exclude whomever we want in the discussion.
Look-a-here: we are and have been defining this ish as we have defined culture since the beginning of time. We gave birth to civilization so, please (please), give us our props, a "cold glass of water" (in memory of Sister Maya) and just step back. We have survived because we have places of respite and refuge where we can do "US" -- in the church, at the lunch table, and now, on the hair boards. (Wasn't it enough that we nurtured and actually nursed future slave masters when common sense and a bit of hemlock might have suggested otherwise?) Dang.
Aren't other cultures proud of their special sauces, chicken dishes, music, beauty regimes? No matter how long they have been here, they always refer to the special thing/ritual from "their country." True they sometimes share info, but so do we. The difference is that everyone always expects us to give up our "us-ness." I ain't doing it. How 'bout that? I don't care how curly kinky nappy your hair is, if you haven't shared my cultural experience, I still want the right/ability to converse with those who do -- without guilt or apology. And guess what, when you start to water down the "us-ness," you loose me.
Now, with hand on hip, neck going, finger waging and 40 plus years of building/embracing/enhancing/supporting stuff and watching others step in and claim it as their own I say, "leave it alone." You are welcomed to be sure; but know that in the context of discussing Black Hair (no matter the curve, kink or lack thereof) you are a guest.
erplexed do not get confused, because I did not say that racism was a non issue. I said the divide is less. In Paris (uh, the one in France?) I have personally seen black and white older ladies being the best of friends. I've ran across many "odd" racial pairings that I've noted and remembered...because I just never saw friendship pairings like those at home. 
