Random Thoughts on Touching

Black girls don't want me touching their Afros, even if the bouncing curls are screaming for a gentle pat from an old lady who is open to new experiences.   Are the curls as resilient as they seem? How do they look so soft yet stay so tight?  Are the curls twisty all the way from the scalp to the ends, or is there a straight stem jutting out of the follicle?

Inquiring grandmothers want to know.  A former Pilates teacher laughed heartily when I wondered if her formerly-curly-now-long-braided-tresses had stretched themselves out on their own.  They are extensions, silly woman! 

Automatic long hair!  Where was that in my hippie days?  I spent years growing my own until I could just about sit on it; cutting it off was a permanent step. Extensions would have annoyed my friends and family much less than my years long should-I-get-a-haircut conversations did.

Joy Reid, MSNBC host, showed up with fabulous braids adorning her skull this morning.  In looking for a picture, I found Okay, It's Time For An Intervention: Joy Reid's Hair as the first link. Apparently, she, like S. Epatha Merkerson, wears wigs on camera.  Who knew? 

(Also, who knew that the S stands for Sharon?  I told you in the title, these are random thoughts.)

I have been thinking about touching since last week, when I walked over to greet an extremely pregnant former kindergarten teacher who is now substituting.  I was followed by a large group of very inquisitive 5 and 6 year olds, all of whom requested an introduction, one of whom wasted no time in placing her somewhat clean palm on the teacher's swollen belly.

Ask before you touch, sweetheart I reminded her as I gently removed her hand.  In her young mind, she was patting a baby.  But, as anyone who's ever carried a child in her uterus knows, her hand was landing somewhere between the teacher's belly button and her pubic hair..... not an area you'd generally caress in public. 

I used to remove those hands like I was touching a dead rat, I told the laughing grown up as I ran interference between the rest of those reaching palms and her belly.  They have no idea, but you do!

It's certainly an invasion of personal space to touch another without permission.  But it's so easy to understand the impulse.  There was that protrusion,  just waiting to be investigated, out there in plain sight.  There are those delicious curls, just asking to be felt.

Restraint is hard.