Got my haircut at the curly hair salon last week. I went to a different location this time and this time my stylist was Jeffrey. I don't know why I was surprised when Jeffrey introduced himself and I saw that he was Asian. I say this because I also thought: I don't think an Asian man has ever touched my hair before. Again, another weird thought, but there it was. Just to be clear: I felt no anxiety--I just made a note to self: first time! Should I be thinking these things? I don't know.
Jeffrey was incredibly personable and knowledgeable about hair. He gave me a detailed diagnosis of why I wasn't getting the results I wanted. It was a baseball cap day---there have been many of late--and he said the number one product I needed was WATER! I needed to use more water when I got my hair wet and added conditioner.
Now, I am not a chatterer by nature. But Jeffrey was. He asked where I was from. He asked what I did. He had gone through all of the standard cocktail questions and then said with his strong accent: "I like the color of your eyes. They are like my mom's."
"Your mom?" I asked.
"My mom," he said. "She has red hair; and she has eyes just like you, very bright blue-green."
"Really?"
"See, people think I am just Asian. I am Mixed. My mother is Dutch and Malaysian. Who knows why my Dutch grandfather came to our village, but he did. My cousins, some of them have red hair too. And some are very tall, like they are Dutch."
We talked the rest of my time there--sharing stories about being Mixed, and about our family backgrounds. And I got a great haircut!
What is the point of the story? I'm not sure--though I am certain it is bigger than the fact that the first Malaysian/Dutch guy touched my hair last week.
