This personal essay was published by Long Wharf Theatre in 2021. Read the full length via the link below.
A few weekends ago, I sat in an orange-black chair for ten hours as a woman and her daughter combined my locs.
It’s been a year and going on three months since I’ve started my loc journey. Growing up, I always admired the suave of Rastas and dreadheads—the way their hair so gracefully swam down Brooklyn’s concrete floors, or swung in their faces with free spirit. There was something immaculate about this hair, this culture, this pride. It was different from wearing braids or twists. Those were only temporary. Dreads … these were permanent things. I knew that one day, they would become part of me as well.
Now, before I continue, I’d like to be clear about my word choices surrounding this hairstyle. “Dreadlocks” is the official term, but they are also known as “dreads” or “locs.” People have different reasons for calling them one over the other. Although I grew up using the term “dreads,” over the past few years, I began using the term “locs.” This is because of a common narrative that has circulated within the community: the term “dreads” was imposed upon the hairstyle by Western or European oppressors who saw this hair as dreadful and ugly. Because of this narrative, people have begun to rebel against the language, and have adopted the shortened version, “locs,” as a way to reclaim their hair and their culture.