As many of you know if you’ve been following my blog, my son, The Littlest E, is originally from Ethiopia. My husband and I adopted him almost 18 months ago and it’s been an amazing journey. There are so many things that go along with transracial adoption; one of them is a haircut. I am part of an online group of moms who have adopted from Ethiopia and there was a discussion about hair products for their children as well as where to get haircuts, but those discussions were for the daughters, not sons.
The Littlest E who is almost 2 ½ years old had never had his hair cut, and it was time. I had been hesitant only because he truly has gorgeous, tight, curly, curly hair and I hated to have it cut, but as I mentioned, the time had come. There is a hair salon near us that is specifically for children; they make a big to do of it, the child gets special attention and a treat at the end. Was that where we wanted to take our son for his first cut? I then saw a posting from a mom who brought her son to a fairly local barbershop and liked his cut. The barbershop sounded perfect, ran it by my husband, Tom, and we decided we’d go there for the BIG event.
Since the barbershop was 20 miles away, we made a day of it. We told our son what was going to happen and he seemed okay with it all. It turned out that the shop was temporarily closed due to a power outage. Several days prior, there was a massive windstorm that caused untold damage to the area. Fortunately, on the door of the shop, was a listing of where each stylist was located for the time being; one of them happened to be at a shop several blocks down the road, so we drove there. It was beginning to be quite a little adventure for us.
I knew it would be an interesting experience walking into a barbershop where there was the potential my husband and I would be the only Caucasians in the place. I was a bit nervous, but am always a bit nervous doing something new, not a bad thing, just a fact. The three of us walked into the shop and all eyes were upon us. Sure enough, my husband and I were the only white people there.
Everyone was checking us out, and then realized our son was with us. They all went back to what they were doing – cutting and shaping hair, sitting as the customer watching football on TV, or just waiting. There was a mom with her son and they were playing games while waiting. The Littlest E wanted to join in their fun, but they didn’t seem to be up for that. Tom asked for the stylist who worked at the other shop, and he was right in front of us. He was with someone so our son was going to be next.
Sitting there waiting, I didn’t quite know what to expect. I’ve been to salons where you make idle chatter with the person next to you or read magazines. This wasn’t that kind of place. It was a barbershop for African-American men pure and simple and wasn’t a place I would have normally gone to, except for our son. Everyone just did their thing and no one paid us any mind. It was kind of like being a woman in a gay bar; you’re there, but basically ignored. Not that I wanted to draw attention to ourselves. Only, this was a new experience, and a very different world from the one I’m used to, which was neat.
Finally, it was The Littlest E’s turn for his cut. We asked Rashad, his barber, for a trim. Rashad placed a big cushiony block on his barber chair for our son to sit on so he’d be taller making it easier for Rashad to cut his hair. I could tell The Littlest E was nervous because he was so quiet during the process. In order to cut his hair, Rashad had to brush it out. We’d never seen our son’s hair as an Afro. It was cute, but I preferred his condensed ringlets. Our son kept saying, “That hurts a little bit” while Rashad was brushing, which was difficult to hear. At one point, he almost cried though ended up not shedding a tear – brave boy! Of course we took pictures to remember the event.
The cut didn’t take too long and all his tangles were gone. When Rashad finished, I asked him about the hair regime we did for our son to make sure we were doing the right thing. It’s important to add oil, not take it away by shampooing a lot. We shampoo once a week, put leave-in conditioner on our son’s hair nightly, and in the morning, use Moroccan oil in his hair. We brush out his hair occasionally to keep the tangles at bay. Rashad told us we were doing fine. That was comforting to know. We thanked him for being so gentle on our son, got his business card, shook hands and left. The Littlest E gave him a high-five.
I’m glad we took The Littlest E where we did. Not sure if we’ll go back to that exact spot, since there are other barbershops closer to us. We’ll see. This experience represented something more than just a haircut; it was a step into a world, which will be our son’s world, or at least part of his world. He’s African-American and may identify with the African-American community. If, and when that happens, that will become our community as well. Somehow this trip made the world a much smaller place.
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