The Bigger The Better

part of My Black Hair Stories by Sue-Ann Bel

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Paramaribo, 1970. A group of teenagers are walking down the street. They play, they laugh and chill at the corner of the street. They all wear their black hair in afros, one bigger than the other. But there is one young man who has the biggest afro. He looks happy and makes quick foot movements like Michael Jackson. He wears a black nylon flared pants and a tailored shirt. He turns out to be a big fan of Michael Jackson, just like allot of the teenagers at that time. The young man takes good care of his afro. He went to the hairdresser every week and he bought himself an afro comb, one with a black fist.

Before going to bed, he braids his hair so that it looks magnificent again the next day. The next morning, he loosens the braids and combs his hair with his afro comb. He makes it big, and even bigger. The young man proudly wears his afro.

At the other side of the ocean, in the United States, the afro wasn't just a fashion trend, it was also political. It showed how black consciousness, race, gender, and sexuality were constructed, reinforced, and represented. The afro became a major symbol for the Black Panther Party during the civil rights movement. The afro was a symbol of resistance to white supremacy. This hairstyle made black people start taking their self-image, self-worth, self-love, and self-esteem seriously. A powerful expression that was linked to reclaiming their identity. Thousands of people wore black sunglasses, black leather jackets, and black pants. They clenched their fists. Their style was a protest, and the afro was the weapon.

In 1980, the young man with the big afro moved to the Netherlands to build a future with his loved one. The young man's life became busier and busier. He married his girlfriend and they became part of a church. They became parents of four daughters. He didn't have time for his afro anymore, life became too busy and filled with appointments. The young man said goodbye to his big afro and exchanged it for a simpler hairstyle, or as he himself said: "more normal, like the other men who live here."

Now, many years later, it turns out that young man is my father. He is now retired, he doesn’t have an afro, no, he completely shaved his hair. But my father often shows me some old photos. He proudly talks about his afro and that he still has that afro comb. My dad always gets a big smile when he looks at his younger version. When I look at his picture I see an attractive young man with big black hair that is perfectly shaped. Who is this man? The longer I looked at his photos, the more I felt the need to get to know my father. I quickly understood that the only way to meet this young man would be through my hair. So I decided to let my hair grow. Dad, I will regrow your afro through my black hair, and I will wear it with pride. And I will dance like you. How you moved like Michael Jackson.

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