I remember the first few days in DC it was was like we were just visiting (at least to my little 10 year old ass), but little did I know that we'd be here for a hot while. So we went through many of the changes that any family goes through when they move from coast to coast (I say this like the shit happens all the time), but what really caught me off guard were the subtle things that made such a big difference in my new digs.
Number 1 difference: The BUSH (and I dont mean GW)
Niggas in DC were not feeling the Jehri Curl Afro (circa 1979-80). Man at first I was kinda oblivious, I mean seriously clueless. I had no idea about the hair game in DC. On the West Coast (BAY AREA) cats was rocking hair, and how you rocked it really didnt matter... So after a few weeks at school I started to pick up on the comments, they ranged from cats calling me the "BUSHMAN" to people faking like they was getting shocked when they reached up and patted on my fro, which resulted in a gang of little Seat Pleasant beat downs, I had a "BUSH" but I knew how to WHOOP dat ass (Oakland style). So needless to say my first few months at Seat Pleasant were pretty shitty especially since Mom's wasnt letting the fro go any where. Moms was like why you wanna cut your head an look like all the rest of those little bald heads running round (Gotta love that Mom logic), and that was pretty much the end of any discussion on hair, so I had to knuckle up and rep for the afros. I remember this one teacher (skinny Black ashy mother fucker with a janky Teddy P. beard) always had some slick ass shit to say about my hair, I mean the kids was one thing but this cat was relentless and I couldnt whup his ass, so I had to just take that shit. What the fuck kinda teacher is gonna dis his students for they hairstyle? Ol bitch ass nigga. I remember Halloween and I had on my Chewbakka costume and you know how they have the costume parade in the elementary joint, we are all walking around in our gear and BOOM this nigga is standing bout ten feet from me directing the kids which way to go. So as I pass he's like "I should guessed that was you, I couldnt tell where you costume began and where you hair ended". Now mind you this is some punk ass power trippin ol stank ass bitch fuckin up my whole Cali vibe, so what did I do? I cried all the way home and broke out the secret weapon:
MY DAD.
I had one of those crazy ass "break glass in case of emergency" Dads, you know the kind that just blow up the whole spot, make you fight the biggest kid and throws in some of that good ol' southern motivation like "If you dont whup his ass, I'ma whip yours" shit I woulda fought Mike Tyson before I fucked wit Pops, so you know I had to drop it...
See the only way I could ever come home crying was if a grown up caused it, PLAIN AND SIMPLE. So I get home and it goes like this:
POPS whats wrong with you boy?
ME Mr ashy skinny black mofo with the nappy beard was mean to me
POPS What he do?
ME He keeps talking about my hair
MOMS (stage left: cuts a serious look, of motherly concern to POPS)
ME Mr ashy skinny black mofo with the nappy beard was mean to me
POPS What he do?
ME He keeps talking about my hair
MOMS (stage left: cuts a serious look, of motherly concern to POPS)
Well lets just say Mr Ashy got scuffed the fuck up, (POPS you my hero) I mean that nigga didnt even look at my ass no more! Hell the whole staff was on notice after that one... I dont know what went down but teachers was always whispering when I came around after that. I can see the memo that went out "NOTE TO STAFF: Dont mess with that little kid with the BUSH his DADDY is CRAZY". So after a serious "SMACK MY BITCH UP!!" session I had a little peace of mind as I continued my little quest to figure out the cultural norms of black people from the east coast, but now I was on guard...
"Realize its all real"
NARO%
