I got my hair cut yesterday. Not a big deal for normal people. But for me, someone from a family full of hairdressers, it’s a big deal.
I’ve never had the experience of getting my hair cut by someone not in my family. I’ve never had to research, find a salon, find a hairdresser, make an appointment, etc.
But I did it. I made an appointment Friday morning to have my hair trimmed at noon on Sunday. So, as per my usual Sunday schedule (yes I have a schedule on the weekends), I worked out first thing in the morning, took a shower, and then headed to my appointment.
Firstly, the salon was not where I thought it was. I drove to the wrong location and then called and said, “I think I’m lost.” The lady on the phone sounded a little miffed, and informed me that I had gone way too far down the road.
Once I found the salon, I walked in a completed a form. The salon was really nice. The floor was a dark jade green tile, the walls were painted a very earthy color, and the chairs were really comfy. It looked pretty upscale.
I also noticed that I was the only white person there. There were ladies sitting at hair dryers scoping me out, and I felt like they were thinking, “Why are you here? This place is ours!”
One reason really like Atlanta is the diversity here. Yes there are way more African Americans than there were in Maryville, Tennessee, but there are also lots more people from India, other Asian countries, South American countries, etc. I just feel like everyone gets along really well.
For example, in my boxing class, I shared a bag with Indira, a woman from India, and Suzie, a woman from China. They both are well-traveled with children living in London and Paris. It makes me feel way cooler than I really am to have friends like this.
That being said, I feel like there are some people in Atlanta who harbor an ill-will toward white Americans. For the most part, I feel as though this is warranted. However, I’ve never felt like I wasn’t welcome somewhere because I was white.
Sometimes it seems like because I’m white, people assume I have a negative opinion about them just because I’m different skin color.
So I just tried to look excited, and not nervous about the fact that someone who’s not my mom was about to cut my hair. Because I didn’t want to be interpreted as a meanie.
When my hairdresser walked back, she introduced herself. She was the cutest little lady with the best haircut. As she took me to her chair, I blurted out that I was nervous and that I’d never had my hair done by a real person who wasn’t related to me. She just laughed and got to business.
We talked about going to the gym, and her 3-year-old son. How we both deal with tantrums (she with her son, and I with my babysitting kids). She trimmed the mullet I was growing and sent me on my way. I tipped her 50%.
All in all, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. The hairdresser was nice. I forgot about the people who I thought were judging me in the background. I got over my sense of not belonging.
The only reason I felt like I didn’t belong is because I let myself feel that way. I always belong. And I will go back to her to get my hair cut again when it needs cutting.
I’m excited for my next haircut!