The Beauty Shop
by Mercy Morganfield
“Girl, what are you thinking about?” The beautician pulls me out of the abyss of my own thoughts and back into her world. “Do you want a blow dry or set?” I choose a set. I like sitting in this environment with my sisters. She rolls my hair and seats me under the dryer. There are sisters to my left and sisters to my right and sisters right in front of me. This warm environment of intense camaraderie is where we sisters go to refuel, here and church. We share a common bond of oppression and demonization, and these common challenges make us cling tightly to each other.
“I been thinkin bout Buffy1 and them and why they rub me the wrong way.”
“Cause they white women.”
“More than that. Because I don’t think they really understand the day-to-day bullshit we go through as black women. I’m pissed that she talkin that sexism bullshit to me and glossin over the way that race factors into my life.”
“Why you lettin that bitch live rent free in your mind?”
“Cause it pisses me off— you know. That ‘don’t you want equal pay and don’t you want equal rights’ bullshit she was talkin like she the authority on discrimination— you know. Like her experiences with being discriminated against could hold a candle to mine.”
“But you have to admit, she’s got a point. We don’t just experience racism— we experience sexism too.”
“I don’t deny that— but how is she the fucking authority on that —you know what I’m saying? My sexism is even more fucked up than hers, and she standing there like she got all the fucking answers— you know what I’m saying.”
“Gurl— when the bitch called you stupid, I thought you was gonna deck her.”
“That would just play into her stereotype that I am stupid —ya know. But you know that was real telling— her saying we were stupid because we wasn’t tryin to hear that shit her and her bitches were talkin.”
“Hell yeah Mamma. They still think like white girls— come on now. They still think they got all the answers, and we spose to listen to them— cause they the smartest.”
“For real— we still the dumb, inferior niggas in their minds. We still need to be lead by our superiors —them.”
“That’s what made me mad. You hit the nail on the head. I walked away —fuckin— wanting to bitch slap her, and I been thinkin bout it ever since. Like bitch who you condescending to— you know what I’'m saying?”
“Them bitches be actin like that at work too, and we got to grin and skin and bear it even when we’re their bosses.”
“Word. I have a group of white women that work for me, and when I come on the job, I got to put on my game face and my proper voice, and I can’t for one minute let my guard down —not for one minute.”
“Cause if you do —they watchin. They looking for somethin to reinforce that dumb black nigga image of you that they need to see to stay aligned with what they believe about blacks— ya know.”
“God, I get tired of putting on my game face. Got to put on my game face at work and be smarter than the average motherfucker. Then when I come home I gotta wear my game face with my nigga—a whole different game face— to make sure he always feel like a man.”
“I hear you girl. We gotta let a man be a man, and we gotta let the whites feel superior; that’s the life of a black woman.”
“And it’s hard Mommies. It’s hard. It’s hard to keep puttin on a different mask everyday and different masks throughout the day; it works on your heart and your soul.”
“And the white girls don’t have an inkling of what that feels like —you know.”
“I don’t know about that —I think white girls have to do some shifting too.”
“Girl, shut the fuck up. They gotta to do some shifting— puhlease— I’ll feel sorry for them in a minute— OK.”
“Why? Why can’t we at least acknowledge— you know— some of the bullshit that they have to go through? In all honesty, Buffy was sincere —you know. She might have been a little condescending— but she was sincere.”
“Girl, puhlease.”
“All I’m saying is we didn’t write the book on suffering.”
“Bitch is you delusional —yes we did. If we didn’'t write the book on suffering, I don’t know who the fuck did. Do you know how fast our sons are dying. Remember slavery. We wrote the fuckin book on suffering! Believe that.”
“What I mean is we don’t have exclusive rights to –you know —unfair shit being done to us.”
“Yeah but— you know why I got so mad? I think I know why I got so mad now.”
“Why.”
“Cause Buffy wanted to spend the majority of the time talking about all the shit that she considers unfair, and she only wanted to give lip service to all of the shit that I consider unfair.”
“Word.”
“She wanted to talk about what unfair looks like from her perspective, not from mine.”
“Word.”
“You didn’t expect her to think about your black ass perspective did you?”
“Naw, I didn’t. But by the same token, don’'t push upon me like you care about me then. Do your shit and leave me out of it then.”
“I hear you.”
“They don’t want to do that though. It’s about power Mommy. They want to control their world, and they want to control your world too.”
“I call it a slave owners mentality —ya know. You can’'t help but think that you know what’s best for me, and why do you think that —white girl?”
“Shitttt, Mommy, you know why— cause she white.”
“Word. Cause she white.”
“Isms travel in packs,” I say aloud. “Even our gender discrimination is different from theirs. White men push upon us in this secretive way that makes us feel dirty and worthless and although they may discriminate against Buffy and her girls, they do it in a far more respectful way than they do with us. I remember when I started as a pharmaceutical sales rep back in the eighties. Both white and black male doctors always treated white girls more respectfully than black girls. I remember asking several white colleagues if they had experienced sexual harassment by their doctors. I think I said ‘Do your doctors hit on you?’ ‘Yeah sure,’ they would say, but their sexual harassment was a doctor calling them at home and asking them out to dinner. My sexual harassment was a doctor asking me if I was wearing thong underwear, or offering to give me money to have sex with him, or one dude ran his hand up my skirt when I was trying to fix the slide projector at a company dinner program. His hand was practically on my coochie and guess what? He was the renowned, physician influence leader. Had he ever done that to any of the white girls? Probably not.”
“That’s cause we hot blooded, can’t control our nature— ya know. We hos.”
“Exactly. You don’t have to show respect to a ho.”
“And white society does all kinds of things to perpetuate that shit. All kinds of little, sneaky, subliminal things. Like pick up a medical textbook with pictures and turn the to section on STDs.”
“I'’d rather not.”
“You gone see a black coochie staring you in the face. Although white women get just as many STDs.”
“Shit. Click on your TV; every time they talk about welfare mothers, they show a black woman although there are more white women on welfare.
“That’s some foul shit, ain'’t it.”
“On, for sho..”
“Gurl, anytime them diabolical motherfuckers can take what happened in slavery and twist it around to be our fault —come on now. That’s the most outrageous spinning of the facts that I'’ve ever seen.”
“What do you mean?”
“Gurl, education yo self for real now. A ignut nigga is---a ignut nigga. During slavery most white women blamed the black women for what they’'re men were doing on the low.”
“Oh that. That was the way them bitches rationalized the actions of their ho-ish men.”
“Yeah, but— That shit stuck, didn’t it. The black Jezebel is still a stereotype. Still.”
“That’s how you maintain the image of your man as a civilized gentleman, even in the face of the reality that your man forces young slave girls to have sex with him.”
“I believe that white women learned to live in denial —that is the only way to reconcile such diabolical bullshit. They could have a house full of high yellow, half-white children, and those weren’'t her husband’s children. Those were somebody else kids.”
“Exactly. And maybe this is how white women have perfected the skill of oblivion. Think about Buffy and her girls; they are seemingly oblivious to our needs and issues. I think white women have been perfecting the skill for centuries.”
“And what Buffy and her girls aren’t getting is that we are pretty much on equal footing with our men, and they have never been on equal footing with their men.”
“But there is a tremendous amount of sexism in our own camp; you can’t deny that.”
“I don’t deny it. I just believe it’s impotent sexism. Black men don’t have no power. They'’re not making any laws. I wish our brothers did have some power. We want our brothers to be the leaders and providers and heads of household.”
“What? Our men don’t do the male dominance thing?”
“Yeah they do. Of course they do. But it rings hollow with our guys. It’s superficial dominance with them. Shit. It’s posturing for the most part. They don’t make the laws. They ain’t doing the hiring or firing. It’s like little girls playing dress up. Brothers mimic what they see Dude doing because that’s how society dictates a man should act.”
“True. That’s why they can rap and call women bitches and hos cause shit—it don’t mean nothing. It doesn’t impact any important areas of our lives, healthcare, jobs, legal rights, civil rights. It’s not the black man who makes the laws that fuck us over as women or fuck us over as blacks. It’s not the black man who makes it so we can’t take care of our families or make a decent living. It’s not the black man who makes it so the day-to-day bullshit bites us. The black men didn’t stereotype us as shit; black men ain’t payin us less; black men ain’t passing us over for jobs; black men ain’t easy on the deadbeat motherfucka that won’t take care of his kids. It ain’t the black man! All the black man can do is grab his crotch, and flash his bling, and wave his gun, and do all the bravado gangsta rap that all of us like so much.”
“OK, Girl. I can see you are totally delusional about black men. Black male domination is directly tied into male domination and absolutely affects our lives. Black single mothers who can’t get a drop of child support because the legal system doesn’t fully support them or their children in getting the deadbeat motherfucker to pay up would totally disagree with you. Black men make more money than black women on average even if they are doing the same job—what do you mean it doesn’t affect our lives? Laws that favor men benefit black men. Black men got their own set of issues. But they ain’t saints, OK.”
“You know and I know that black men are definitely not saints. But the brothers do not have the juice. When Buffy was talking about white men even she admitted it is the white guys that rule and that women should unite to make inroads.”
“I’m going to say something since we are keeping it real. I have a lot fewer issues with white men. It’s the white women who are the thorns in my ass.”
“We all have white women stories. I would be hard pressed to find a black woman who doesn’t have a few. Buffy and her girls seem to think that we should want to join with them, after all they are the elite; it’s their sorority, and they are giving our black asses a break.”
“Are most black women feminists?”
“Yes, if we allow them to stick that label on us. We are independent. We believe in equal pay. We don’t let our males dominate us because frankly they ain’t home. Most of us are single parents. We work outside of the home. So we are feminists by their standards of what a feminist is. And no, if being a feminist is being identified with them. So yes and no.”
“I believe that we are on such different sheets of music because our histories are so paradoxically different. Our place in this world is so different. Our perceptions and motivations and needs are different. We have more in common with our men then we do with Buffy and her girls.”
“Should we try to find a common ground with Buffy, and you know work together? Solidarity as women you know.”
“Are you smoking crack—why would I want solidarity with Buffy? I don’t even like Buffy. A better question is, can you separate the shit you go through as a woman from the shit you go through as a black?”
“Hell no! Everything is about being black.”
“Well, Mommy, you got your answer then.2 And vice versa it; if everything is about being black for us then everything has got to be about being white for them.”
“I don’t know. I might not agree with that. See white people never have to really think about being white, about all the privilege that comes from being white. Black people think about being black.”
“Girl, don’t be naïve. White folks may not be so acutely aware of race as we are, but white people sure as hell think about being white. Try to give black people anything that white people don’t have and watch the white people squeal like stuffed pigs. Talk about anti-discrimination laws; whites scream about reverse discrimination; talk about affirmative action; whites scream about entitlement. Whites might not think about being white every minute of every day, but as soon as you threaten their inherent privilege of whiteness—watch out. They know their whiteness is a privilege, and you can bet they will always think in terms of self-preservation in maintaining that privilege.”
“The norm for white women has been historically cherished, taken care of and being subservient to her man. The norm for black women has been reviled, for reasons ranging from promiscuity and laziness, equal to her man from a work perspective, and subservient to whites.”
“So if Buffy got her wish and society could turn on a dime and accommodate the needs of the women’s movement, black women would still not have their needs met because black women’s needs have never been addressed, and inequality of the sexes looks totally different from a black woman’s perspective.”
“Yeah, so sexism from a black woman’s eyes is always intertwined with racism.”
“True. Sexism at work is Dude running his hand up my skirt or doing some overt shit cause he know I need my job, and I ain’t gone be causing a lot of ruckus over no bullshit.”
“Exactly. While Buffy is trying to get equal pay for equal work and trying to be taken seriously for her mind. I’m trying to get Dude to respect me from a whole different level.”
“I believe it’s because they still think of us as worthless. Still to this day, black women are worthless in this society.”
“Well, even Buffy has her work cut out for her. White girls ain’t trying to hear that shit she talking either.”
“The white chicks I know ain’t trippin on feminism—that’s Buffy’s agenda. I ain’t never heard none of my white girlfriends, coworkers, what have you, talk about feminism once—not once.”
“Gurl, Buffy and them bored and need somethin to do. They need some purpose in life. Shitttt, the white chicks that I know want Dude to be taking care of them.”
“I’m saying. They be rolling in the Lexus and sittin at home gittin they coochies waxed, and their toenails painted.”
“You heard me. Shit. Ole Boy being going off to work. They be pushing the snooze button. Picking out colors of paint for the walls to paint that big ass mac-mansion Dude done bought for em. White girls ain’t all that stupid. They ain’t tryin to get liberated from that shit—stop playin.”
“For real though. And it ain’t just the soccer moms that be subscribing to that shit. My girl, Jennie, work just as hard as my boy Jim, and they probably bring home close to the same pay, and she be deferring to him. Jim said this, and I got to talk Jim into that.”
“See that’s what Buffy and them don’t be thinking about. Even the independent white women be like----I need a man to take care of me.”
“They hardwired for that shit, Mommy. White girls are hard wired with the ere body need to take care of me, ere body need to be waiting on me, mentality. It’s part of a white girls makeup.”
“Girl, you so on point. You are so on point. Buffy and them talking to the air, the average white girl is like—buzz the fuck off, you know what I’m saying. I want my man to be a man, and I like it like that.”
“Buffy and them don’t like it like that cause they want their man to be a woman.”
“What you mean?”
“Most of the folks in Buffy’s crowd ain’t into dick—they munching pussy; so yeah, they mad at men.”
“Girl you crazy.”
“For real though. Don’t you think most feminist be lesbians.”
“Girl, you crazy---Yeeee-you crazy.”
“Is most feminist lesbian s—take a fucking poll. Most people believe feminists is lesbians.”
“I agree —you crazy— but I agree.”
“So if you into dick—you don’t belong to that club, do you.”
“Nope.”
“Alright then, white girls that are into dick ain’t interested then.”
“True.”
“Buffy ain’t recognizing when my man be takin care of me, buying me things, being big and strong and bein a man— that shit be makin my nipples hard.”
“Yeeee-no, she did ent say that. No she did ent.”
“It’s true. Them whites girls like us on that. Dude buy me a big ass diamond or do the masculine thing— I’ma bout to roll on up and give him some.”
“I’m saying.”
“I don’t wont no sensitive man talk bout lets split the bill for dinner.”
“I’m saying.”
“You better git cho punk, bitch, ass on out a here, nigga. I don’t need to be having no intellectual discussion with my nigga. I want him to fuck me hard and put me away wet and tired.”
“Yeeee-girl, stop.”
“Seriously. Buffy fighting a losing battle.”
“White girls want a good fuckin too, ya’ll seen Sex in the City.”
“Men don’t be wantin no earth women wit big hairy poononies and hairy legs and hairy underarms and muffydo’s, sittin around intellectualizin about male hegemony and all that bullshit.”
“I’m saying, white men, black men, Chinese men, you name it they all want a woman that bat her eyes and lick her lips and say you the man, Daddy—you the man.”
“And guess what. I want to sit around and bat my eyes and lick my lips and say you the man—I like it. I like a big hairy chest to lay on, and a big dick to play with.”
“Now ya’ll know Buffy was talking bout more than that—right. Ya’ll know she talkin bout when you gotta go work don’t you want to get paid the same, and she talkin bout makin the nigga pay up when he done knocked you up and about laws and shit that favor men, and it ain’t all that dissimilar from laws that favor whites over blacks; now don’t be ignorant ladies—ya’ll know it’s deeper than all that.”
“For true. But can’t nobody hear what Buffy is talkin bout. She could be talkin bout the fountain of youth or the meaning of life, and it wouldn’t matter. If I don’t relate to Buffy, I can’t hear a word she sayin. It’s marketing sugar; it’s marketing and packaging. If Buffy’s message is wrapped up in a white lesbians box—ain’t nobody tryin to hear that except— you know— white lesbians.
“True that. True that. Black lesbians ain’t even trying to hear it. Buffy and them don’t even appeal to lesbians that ain’t white.”
“I don’t believe that all feminist are lesbians, and what does who you fuck have to do with the price of tea in China? Aren’t you ladies more intelligent than that— more learned than that? Gawd, you sound like a bunch a uninformed ghetto bitches. Ya’ll hos need to expand ya’ll narrow little nasty ass minds.”
“Girl, fuck you. You’ll suck the sleeve off a nigga dick if you think he gone buy you somethin sparkly and take you out to dinner. Don’t be talkin that intellectual expand yo mind shit with me. I know you, ho. You woulda tweezed the hairs out of the crack of Ray Ray’s ass if you thought that would help you keep him. How bout you driving past his house at three—four in the morning to see who he be boning. How bout you callin his house and hangin up fifty times—you stalking bitch. Don’t even try it—expand yo mind and feminism and bullshit. Gone wit cho feminist bullshit— you will kowtow to a motherfucker in a heartbeat— don’t even.”
“All I’m saying, you ignorant slut, is all feminists are not lesbians —that’s all I’m saying. That is a wrong assumption— that’s all I’m saying— OK. And if it were even a right assumption— what difference would it make— you silly, can’t see the big picture ho— that’s all I’m saying— OK.”
“Mommies. Mommies. Calm down. Goddamn.”
“I’m calm; she just trippin that’s all. So what, we might all have the wrong assumptions bout feminism —OK. We might all have it wrong that all feminist is lesbians —I agree— OK. So, Miss intellectual, when it’s convenient, why are you sayin that —what the fuck difference do it make? Do you want to join up with those bitches and call yourself a feminist?”
“I might.”
“Then take yo intellectualizing ass on then; more power to ya. I just hope being a feminist will help you stop stalking Ray Ray, and I bet he wish you was a feminist too.”
“You got the mind span of a gnat—silly ho.”
“Are ya’ll hos through fightin? Now back to what we was talking about. What was we talking about?”
“Feminism and Buffy, and white women who ain’t lesbians, and white women who are, and white women who ain’t feminists, and white women who are.”
“Oh. Why were we talking bout that again?”
“I dunno?”
“Cause Buffy and them was talking bout equal pay and equal laws and relying on yourself and shit.”
“Yep”
“Oh---ain’t that Buffy’s and thems issues.”
“I think so.”
“And we care bout that shit, why—again?”
“I dunno.”
“Cause we want equal pay to Buffy’s man or cause Buffy wants equal pay to Buffy’s man.”
“Buffy wants equal pay to her man—we want a job.”
“True.”
“Well what—we want independence—then?”
“Nope. I could use a little help myself. I been independent a long time. I’d like to try out dependent for a change.”
“Gurl, me too.”
“So we don’t need no liberating—then? Ya’ll agree.”
“Huh?”
“Is Buffy irrelevant?”
“Word.”
“Then why we talking bout Buffy again?”
“Don'’t ask me, you brought the bitch up. I think you thought she said something relevant—you know --something we give a shit about.”
“True. That’s right. I just can’t remember what she said that was somethin new—ya know.”
“Well, that you should rely on yourself. Be independent. Be your own woman. Equal rights. Equal pay.”
“Except for the equal rights, equal pay. Isn’t relying on yourself, being your own woman, being independent, the reality of many, and I would venture to say even most black women?”
“Yeah.”
“And it’s a lonely fucking reality, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“Be careful what you wish for white girls.”
working notes
I always walk away from the beauty shop with a greater clarity about my life and my choices. I shake out my newly straightened and curled hair, and I stand up and stretch. A black beauty shop is usually an all-day event. We don’t want to join Buffy and her girls, but we do want a place that we can come to and talk about the white sexist in our office, or the white friend who is sometimes condescending that we would like to put in check but still keep as a friend, or the man that overcompensates for racism by being extremely domineering at home, or the young teenage son whose life is constantly in danger because he is a young black male, or our daughter whom we have to prepare to be strong and resilient in a world that hates her. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a place where we can let our hair down, be heard, and leave renewed.
Well goddamn. It hit me. Black women have such a place. A place where white women wouldn’t dare to come and wouldn’t even feel excluded if they weren’t invited. Black women have solved life’s problems sitting in these chairs with a head full of rollers. Talk about acres of diamonds right under our feet. Talk about not seeing the forest for the trees. I believe that one of the reasons black women have accomplished what they have, against all odds, is because of the strong support that black women give each other. I believe that impromptu forums address the needs of solidarity in a loose unstructured way. Who can pinpoint what causes an individual to keep on keeping on, in spite of it all. For me, when I want to feel renewed, when I want good conversation, and people who understand me and what I'’m going through, I simply make an appointment at my beauty salon, and I settle in for the day.
The sisters and I have learned to survive and yes, even thrive. And black women will hold tightly to the quiet power that we are accumulating. Power that no one knows we have. It is the power of confidence and strength. We’ve hidden it under the stacks of rollers at the beauty shop. There it is safe from the contamination of white women, white men, and even black men, and it is growing and flourishing. So our inner strength is something we own, and cherish, and guard with the ferocity of a mother protecting her children. And to the rest of the world, we will always be an anomaly.
- Buffy: a white middle-class feminist who tried to talk them into attending a feminist meeting.
- Mommy: Black and Hispanic term of endearment
about the author
Mercy Morganfield spent her childhood between Chicago and the Mississippi Delta. She has worked in Corporate America for the past 24 years and was one of the few African American women to advance to upper management at a major pharmaceutical company. “The Beauty Shop” is an excerpt from her graduate thesis, which explored relationship dynamics between African American women and White women in America. She recently left Corporate America and currently lives outside of Montreal.
