NYC's "You Can Touch My Hair" - Some observations

Models and Toucher at Union Square Park in New York City

Unwanted hair touching is a thing, y’all. Yes, it has happened to me. My tightly coiled hair has been natural for most of my life and in my adulthood I have worn it in a short afro, in box braids, twisted, in loose styles, and currently in slender locs. I am generally a “worst case scenario” thinker, which means I try to plan for random, mostly outlandish occurrences. So, per my natural mental processes, I have conceived a plan for the reasonable likelihood that someone would engage in unauthorized fondling of my hair. For the grabby woman in my imagination, I’ve already decided to grab a boob. For the man, I’m going for his package. “Who are you to determine what is open for exploration on my body?” I’d say. Cue slow clap from the crowd that has gathered. End scene.

The need to guard against such interactions is real for so many folks who join the ranks of those who are outwardly “other” in the United States. Black women are right in there for very specific reasons. So as social media and the Black Blogosphere exploded with news that un-ruly.com would host the exhibition, “You Can Touch My Hair,” I knew I had to go.

The host promoted this event thusly:

In an effort to "take one for the team" and further explore the tactile fascination with black hair, un-ruly will be holding an interactive public art exhibit in New York City… dubbed, You Can Touch My Hair, where strangers from all walks of life will have the welcomed opportunity to touch various textures of black hair.

Another peculiarity of Black womanhood in the United States out there for public consumption? Sure, but fascination with Black hair is not something that is perceived or imposed. Indeed, unlike the often shallow public explorations of why Black women aren’t married, how educated Black women suck at love, Black women and their attitudes, and the need for Black women to be “respectable” (basically every construct applied to Black women from the desks of Tyler Perry, Steve Harvey, and national news outlets over the past 5 years of visible Black womanhood in the White House), foreign hands reaching for Black women’s hair is a concrete, shared experience that brings up valid concerns connected the socio-historical positioning of Black women in the U.S. I connected to this “team” for which un-ruly executed this exhibit, so me and my “Black girl hair” experiences made it down to Union Square Park.

Following over two hours of engagement around this public exhibit, I have a few observations and take-aways that I figured I’d offer to the atmosphere. “Hair” we go (Ugh. Sorry. It was just so easy.): One) I arrived right at the beginning before crowds had gathered in any significant way, so I could clearly make out the official participants (which, for some, became difficult as public recognition of this event gained momentum and Black girls and theirhair were just everywhere). My very first thought was, “There’s no one up there with my hair texture.” No tight coils, no Teeny Weeny Afros (TWAs). I offered the benefit of the doubt by figuring that the display the previous Thursday had more varied representation. NOPE! Day One and Day Two each offered very narrow representations of Black hair. I figured we’d at least see tight coils, as this is a texture that seems to garner the most fascination. Unfortunately (or fortunately?) this was not the case.

This glaring omission could mean a number of things. From one angle, we can chalk it up to the unavailability of someone with tight coils or a TWA to stand in. They all had to work or had previous engagements. Or maybe every possible “model” (that’s what the PR person called them) with tight coils was just vehemently against this display and would not participate. But what if this was a choice on the part of the organizers? Perhaps they only wanted certain hair types represented, a self-conscious choice to make sure a display that centered on the Black female aesthetic showcased a more socially acceptable view of a Black woman. Or maybe they didn’t even think about it. This scenario would be the worst for me because it reveals a lack of intent. Which leads me to my next observation…

Two) This event was promoted as an art exhibit. It felt like a social experiment to see how many natural-haired Black women you could lure into Union Square, but definitely not art. I wondered aloud with my companions about the purpose for this exhibit. There was no artist statement. No implied or expressed perspective. Hell, there was no artist present. A Public Relations representative from un-ruly.com accompanied this “exhibit.” Antonia Opiah, the founder of un-ruly.com and the author of the initial Huffington Post article that prompted this display, was out of the country. I spoke with the models and with the PR representative and asked why they were doing this. Their responses fell along the same lines about being open and educational, a cross-cultural opportunity that would benefit everyone. Kumbaya. To be fair, when speaking to the PR representative at one point, she did state that the impetus was to “get behind the curiosity” with Black hair, recognizing that these interactions happen every day. But it is also unclear how this display was structured to address that curiosity. When pushed on the approach to this display by a counter-demonstrator, the PR rep revealed the lack of structure, saying “People are getting out there [wanting to really be] artistic about it, but I said, ‘No, let’s let it be open to their interpretation of it all’… I know there’s a lot of danger with that but we can’t really help it.” No. One may not be able to fully control what individuals take away from an art piece, but one can control intent and the care taken to cultivate a perspective in the presentation of art. Intentionality was absent from this display.

Three) The PR rep kept promoting this all-important “dialogue” that they have started. I mean, we already agree that hair molestation is wrong, so… what dialogue? I already mentioned the lack of focused intent for this exhibit so it follows that this supposed “dialogue” is nebulous as well. I’ll tell you what did happen. Union Square Park became a natural hair and historical/experiential conference for Black women. Most of the dialogue I heard around me were personal feelings about the display, connections between this display and the ways in which Black women have been on display throughout our history in the US, revisions for this display, individual experiences going natural and hair stories growing up.

The critical dialogue came from the counter-demonstrators. They carried signs that said: “Touch my hair with your hand and I’ll touch your face with my fist,“ and “What’ll it be next…my butt?” and “I am not your Sarah Baartman.” referring to the enslaved South African woman who was literally an exhibit displayed throughout 19th century Europe for her “exotic” features, particularly her breasts, buttocks, and vaginal area. These demonstrators and the crowd carried the load of bringing nuance to this exhibit.

TouchMyHair1

Finally,

Four) So yea, I had to say, “No, I’m not with the exhibit” more than once, and I know I’m not the only one. While I appreciated  the cornucopia of coifs and coils among the Black women, I anticipated that our presence en masse would conflate the promoted stance of the sponsors of the display with the varied motivations and perspectives that most Black women brought to the event as observers. I had an extended exchange early on with a 63-year-old white female English professor from an HBCU in Mississippi (let that marinate), who freely touched the models’ hair and proceeded to satisfy as many burning curiosities as she could at the expense of the time, energy, and space of the Black women in her immediate vicinity. “What’s that thing that Black men and women put on their heads that’s kind of satiny? What’s that for? When Black people let their dreadlocks grow long, long, long down their back – is that a political statement? Can I see your hair – I won’t touch it – but can I see it? Why won’tBlack women just wear their hair in the tiny short cut – I think that’s fabulous!” And so on. I pushed back on her lack of a critical understanding on the political, social, and historical context of the Black female students she claimed to speak to regularly about their hairstyle choices, but nothing seemed to penetrate her wide-eyed fascination with the main event. It was so meta it hurt.

I went back to un-ruly.com the day after the Saturday display to check out the most recent coverage. The headline admits that they “totally didn’t think it would get this big.” Really? Did they just totally miss the boat on context? I think so. From the site, it seems like they think this is a new phenomenon, that they started a conversation that was not taking place. Black women just get hair-groped and suffer in silence. I call PR stunt. What we did NOT need was conversation, nor did we require a demonstration. Let’s face it, no one needed an organized gathering to give permission for the Black-girl-hair-grab. The organizers admitted that this happens everyday, so this display was superfluous. What we needed was a clear response to what is already taking place, to contextualize the phenomenon and not attempt to ignore and kumbaya our way out of the issue at the heart of this benignly rendered “curiosity.” It’s called White supremacy. Yea, I said it. With a capital “W”. I’m talking about the dominant cultural forces that have rendered Black women as not only “other,” but the antithesis to the white feminine beauty standard for centuries, leaving our very bodies vulnerable to abuse, ridicule, dissection, scrutiny, and exploration, with or without our permission.  This is the context that mattered to “You Can Touch My Hair.” This is the critical dialogue that un-ruly.com could have initiated in that space. This is the level of thought and intent that Black women deserve from the media outlets that claim to represent us.