"I don't believe in hairstyles."

communication oddities

Last week, a woman said she didn’t believe in hairstyles. This made me grin. It has made me grin for days.

With most conversations veering from the deadly strangeness of the weather to the darkness of politics and the tragedy of multiple global crises, grinning feels good. I am tired of apocalyptic conversations that end in a shrug. I am bored with ‘but what can you do?’ summaries.

Of course, I feel these things too. Of course I talk about them.

But do you believe in hairstyles?

To be fair, this isn’t exactly what the woman said and she didn’t say it to me. I got it in the middle of an extremely long text message from my mother regarding my brother’s upcoming wedding. Apparently, the hairstylist does not believe in trial hairstyles, or a practice run, since there are too many variables that will only be determined day of. Like humidity, I guess.

She wasn’t saying she didn’t want to meet my future cuñada. My future sister is Colombian and speaks very, very little English. She just arrived in the country a few weeks ago. For residency reasons, she and my brother have to be married quick. Of course, much drama comes from this. Language, new country, immigration status, you know. But a lot of the drama has nothing to do with language barriers, or the couple’s plans, or legal questions: it’s the pressured family drama that outs around things like weddings. I can feel my mother’s emotions like static electricity. I can sense my brother’s aloof shrug from miles away. It’s all familiar. Everything is hot and sharp and loaded. We’ve all stepped out of our respective lessons learned, shook like a dog, and stepped right back into old, old caricatures of ourselves for the special occasion. We are never actually talking about what we’re talking about.