A year ago: scared to shampoo

I left the mirror steamy as a courtesy

A year ago today I was nervous about washing my hair.  It was the first time I was going to try it after the locking, and I had to wear a stocking to make sure I didn't rip them apart.  My hair sucked up shampoo like Jewish cooking does salt, and then, hours later, after they were finally dry, I had to wax them again.

If you're one of those people who believes that white people shouldn't have dreadlocks because all the extra work should be telling us something, you're preaching to the choir here.  By this time a year ago, I realized that making and maintaining dreadlocks, at least using my chosen methods, was much more work than I'd ever done on my hair before.

Of course, I also was starting to have more fun with my silly hair.  I asked a dreadlock poll question which had such epic rhymes that thirteen people have answered since I asked it a year ago.  How cool is that?

One year later, I'm still spending more time than I should be on my locks (well, on half my dreadlocks anyway), and I'm pretty much done with that.  Once this test period ends next month, I will be very, very glad to neglect my locks like a normal person.

A year ago: Styracosaurus

Something about constant, low-grade pain must make my creative juices flow, because the post I wrote a year ago about my first day with dreadlocks is a really entertaining read.

Don't let the smile fool you.

After I warmed [the wax] and worked it in, Robin took the blow dryer to it so it would melt andreally get in there. The heat was enough on my inflamed scalp to make me gnash my teeth and rend my clothing, which is why I'm glad I was wearing a high-quality sweater from L.L. Bean, for it was quite resistant to rending.

In amongst the colorful language I used to complain about how much my scalp hurt, there is an interesting insight:  on Day One, my locks were about three inches long, and the first inch (at the base) wasn't locked.

Down locks are happier

One year later, my locks are 5-7 inches long, and the first inch or two isn't locked.  When I compare the nature and nurture sides, the length is about the same, but natural locks have a longer unlocked base -- they're the ones hovering at about two inches.  I don't think it's logical to believe that wax makes the difference, and I stopped experimenting with root flipping before I started this test, so that's not it, either.  I believe the bands I have used at the base of the locks (which also make it harder to measure how much is unlocked, so I focused on those locks without them at the moment) are helping the bases lock faster.

I kind of miss looking like a spiky dinosaur, but I don't think I could afford enough wax to make that happen again.  Maybe armature wire?

A year ago: What's on TV?

A year ago I sat mostly still for something like six to eight hours as my wife yanked a metal comb through my hair over and over and over again.  Getting ready I was excitedly picking movie selections, and in summary the day looked more or less like this:

. . . which doesn't even remotely begin to capture how horrible it felt, but I really needed to grin and bear it.

One year later I have locks that stay put, and are older than some of the things in my life.

It's obvious that my video skills are still not even close to as cool as my wife's.

A year ago: excitement builds!

A year ago I was nearing the day when my hair would be forced into submission.  I had researched how to lock my caucasian hair, and was convinced that my best choice would be to get a "dread kit" from one of the product suppliers.  A friend of mine, intrigued by this wacky hair-as-art-experiment, started talking it up.

One year later, I am well aware that there are more locking options than I had realized.  I've learned that wax, in particular, is very controversial, and I'm well into a test of dread wax and other techniques to see if they are as good, or bad, as some people say.

A year ago: pondering patience

A year ago I was asking myself the question, "Why do I want dreadlocks?"  I rambled a bit, but my answer came down to one word:  patience.

 Where it starts will be with a desire to learn more patience, which is one of the reasons I admire trees and other plants as much as I do.  Trees can only adapt to the world by using one tool:  slow, methodical growth.  In comparison, blooming flowers and ripening vegetables in the garden seem swift, but gardens themselves are best improved year over year in the long haul.

One year later, I haven't made so much headway on the whole patience thing.  I got tired of using wax, tired of not using wax, and then decided to do both.

A year ago: is my hair long enough?

My hair was free to roam.

A year ago today, I was fretting over my hair.  I'd made up my mind that I was going to lock it, but I wasn't sure if it was long enough yet.  My patience being what it is, I didn't want to wait.  I rationalized moving fast:

The main advantage of locking the hair when it's shorter is that it will take less time for my dreadful friends to help me.  The backcombing process can take six hours for 18 inches of hair, and is painful and tiring.

One year later, I know I wrote those words, but oh, I did not understand the meaning of "painful and tiring" when I posted that passage.  Nope, not by a long shot.

I daresay the locks have grown some.

My worries were for naught -- my locks have endured, despite the short hair we started with, and the controversial waxing, crocheting, and all the other hoo-hah that's been going into my nature-vs-nurture test.

And my hair has grown longer, too, but what I not sure 100% sure of is how much more they've locked in the past 50 weeks.  Living with them day after day makes it harder to notice change, and I'm not really sure how to measure it.

My friend Amanda Catherine, who hadn't seen me in a couple of months, just told me that my locks are lookin' fine, so that was a nice boost.  (I'll have her reason for dreadlocks posted here as soon as I can get her to hold still long enough to tell me about it.)

One thing I'm positive about is that I hate the length of my hair this April.  To much volume for a hat, not enough length to tie it back.  Of course, the milestone that everyone with locked hair looks forward to is being able to use a lock to tie back the rest of the hair.  At the base of my neck, my longest locks are about three inches, so that's going to be awhile.  Some people have told me that it's easier to shave the back of the neck than to get that hair to lock, but it's steady as she goes.

A year ago: blogging begins

A year and two days ago I launched this blog with my first, tentative reasons for dreadlocks.

I know that there's a good amount of negative stereotyping and perceptions about dreadlocks, mostly because I've shared a lot of those perceptions myself.  People who wear dreadlocks are dirty, aimless people who can't get a job, right?

All the hat I ever needed

Even though I was considering them, I really didn't like looking at locked hair.  I would glance the way people do at naked bodies in a public locker room:  curious, but not wanting to stare.  The staring would have been in part from fascination, but at least a little from revulsion.  Even though I had been thinking about them for quite awhile, my emotional reaction that they must be dirty was still mixing it up with the new, more rational understanding that washing locks is not only possible, but a really good idea.  I definitely had a knee-jerk reaction against locks, so much so that my second post, the following day, chronicled how I wanted to hide my dreadlocks once I had them.

When I can't be bothered, it looks like this.

One year later, I look at dreadlocks.  I talk to people about them, asking their reasons for dreadlocks (and please, do send in your reason if you've got one).  It's a conversation starter, and it doesn't feel awkward to me anymore.

One year later, my hat can still fit all of my hair, but not without it looking like I have a beastly occipital bone tumor. While pulling it back right now makes me look like a mangy chicken, a ponytail holder working with my hat pulls off something of a round head profile.

This post is the beginning of a new, regular feature for this blog, called one year later.  In each post, instead of simply talking about myself, I will talk about how I was talking about myself a year ago, and then talk about how differently I talk about myself now than I did then.  I hope that this feature will allow me to create new, self-absorbed content with a minimum of effort, while avoiding a metaphysical feedback loop which could eliminate all traces of me from the space-time continuum.

Luckily for you, my reader, if I fail you will never have read any of this in the first place.