In the `70s, the Afro meant ”black and proud.” In the `80s, it was hair extensions that made a statement.
Today, dreadlocks (or Nubian locks) is not just a hair style, but a hair statement embraced by a growing number of African-Americans who choose to express their social and political beliefs right where everyone can see them. The knotty dread (once considered nasty and dirty by mainstream America-both black and white), which originated in Africa and was popularized by reggae musicians and Rastafarians, is now in vogue and topping the heads of many African-Americans.
Look at blacks in popular culture with dreadlocks: Novelist Alice Walker; rocker/producer Lenny Kravits; comedian/actress Whoopi Goldberg; Bethann Hardison, former model and president of the New York-based modeling agency Bethann; actor/director Mario Van Peebles; folk songstress Tracy Chapman;
British crooner Seal; novelist Jamaica Kincaid; activist/educator Angela Davis; and the list goes on.
”I think that dreadlocks are one manifestation of the new Afrocentricity,” says Earl S. Davis, director of the Institute of African-American Affairs at New York University. ”Hair is just like law, the connotation changes with the times. Dreadlocks, braids and extensions have come to stand for political protest.”
But, he says, people who aren`t politically oriented now have jumped on the bandwagon. ”They aren`t political, they are making a fashion statement.” Young African-Americans across the country (on urban city streets and on small black college campuses) are ”going natural” and letting their hair
”lock.” A lot of kids are inspired by hip-hop music (a combination of street braggadocio, black nationalist ideology and reggae samples) and others by the artists themselves. Public Enemy`s Flavor Flav, Kid of Kid N` Play, Joe Public, Fam-Lee, Prince Be, Maxi Priest and Bronx Style Bob all sport dreadlocks.
Getting back to their roots
”The whole hip-hop movement is responsible for the increase in people dreading their hair,” says Radcliffe Bailey, 23, the artist who is shown painting at the end of Arrested Development`s music video ”Tennessee.”
”It`s because of the reggae influence although dance hall isn`t as political as Ratafarianism,” says Bailey. ”We`re bringing more tribal markings to hairstyles,” says Bailey. ”I was studying African hair within my work and I realized that it`s all about adornment. Even today, it`s adornment from the colors to beads to fades to straight hair.”
But it`s more than just the aesthetic appeal that is causing everyone to dread their hair. It is also a matter of self-acceptance and cultural awareness. ”Some people are trying to get back to their roots. Having dreads is trying to get back to being black-pro-black,” says Rasa Don, 23, a practicing Rastafarian and member of Arrested Development. ”A lot of people don`t understand that when you dread your hair, you`re saying that you don`t want to be a part of society. In history, a lot of people thought it was beast-like to have dreads. Even in Jamaica, it`s not that acceptable.”
Amen, brothers
In fact, the hairstyle is most commonly associated with the Rastafarian religion that emerged in Kingston, Jamaica in the 1930s-a commingling of Christianity and the teachings of Marcus Garvey. To this religious sect, the long, twisted locks represent the lion`s mane, buried consciousness and rebirth. But, it holds that same meaning for dreads outside the religious fold.
”When I found out that people in Africa and the Caribbean had dreads, it made me feel accepted,” says Bailey, who is living in Atlanta and growing his hair in one big lock. ”I don`t wear dreadlocks to be a Rastafarian, although I do respect them. I`m trying to find my own movement. Dreading your hair is very spiritual.”
For others, the initial process of twisting the hair into dreadlocks can be a consciousness-raising experience. ”I think it`s a movement toward a reawakening, of being able to accept ourselves for what we are. It`s saying this is us in our natural state,” says Sheila Turner, 31, an Atlanta-based photographer who is compiling a photo exhibit of people with dreadlocks, titled ”The Dreaded I.”
”For me,” she said, ”locking my hair helped me get closer to my inner self. Everyone I know who has locked their hair for religious, consciousness or fashion reasons has found an inner peace if they wanted to or not.”
For some, it`s just a style statement. ”In December of 1989, I stopped combing my hair and the waves and curls just clumped together. I thought it was really cool. Then, I was wishing I had started locking earlier,” says Eric Cole, 27, associate director of writer public relations at BMI in New York. ”It`s a lot more work than I thought it was going to be. You have to separate them, twist them and oil them. If you don`t, you just end up with a big clump of hair like Bob Marley. There is no one way to get dreads. It`s different for everyone. I like the way it looks. Basically, that`s it.”
Rapper Skoob, 21, of the duo Das EFX agrees. ”We dreaded at a time when everyone was doing it. It was a fad and we just jumped on the bandwagon, but we kept with it,” he says about his mushroom-like sprout of locks. ”We just happen to be two hip-hop artists with dreads.”
