Go On, Talk That Good Stuff White Man...

I really like your hair said the white man, in regards to my massive Afro puff. Thank you, I replied with a smile that possessed thoughts of Kingnoble9's words "yeah, your hair will never be able to connect to the ethers like this." The white man smiled back, then he looked up and smiled at my puff. He smiled as if he was curious as to how my hair sat so obediently on top of my head...he smiled as if he wanted to reach out and touch my hair...as if he wanted to eat it. Then with an unsure look on his face that displayed his battle to give a compliment without offending, he finally expressed "I like it, it's...it's, it's festive." Struggling to find the words to court his compliment, I mustered up a smile and skeptically replied "oh, okay, well thank you." In my head, I was really thinking White people... What the hell am I celebrating? St. Patty's day just passed and I sure didn't rock the crown to show how much I love the Irish. Well, at least he meant well.

That white man's comment danced in my thoughts late into the night. And then, I had an aha moment. Talk that stuff white man!!! You're right, my hair is festive. Each day my hair is a celebration, a celebration of me naturally, a celebration of my blackness, a celebration of the mere fact that I was born with a permanent crown that sits so regally on top of my head,,,So, yes go on and talk that stuff white man.