It’s thick, and it’s dark. I’ll admit I take my hair for granted most days. And I get annoyed when it doesn’t cooperate or hangs in a lackluster way.

I went to the same hair stylist for over 20 years – Juliette I miss you, may you rest in peace. And it wasn’t until I was in her chair and she was curling the last strand of hair that I’d see my hair in a different light. Oftentimes, a client in a neighboring chair would say, “You have so much hair!” or “Your hair is gorgeous.” “That looks so pretty.” I have to give all the credit to Juliette. She was a master stylist and could do five heads at once and have everyone out the door looking fresh in under two hours.

Women would also regularly ask me, “Are you Mary’s daughter?” or “Is Mary your mother?” Sometimes Juliette would beat them to the punch and say, “This is Mary’s daughter.” Juliette had a way of talking under her breath to clients while they were in her chair, just loud enough where they could hear her, while no one else could. Each time someone would ask me who I was, she’d quietly crack a joke about how long I’d been coming into the salon and how they should’ve known who I was.

One day the usual question came up. A middle-aged black woman complemented my hair. When she figured out that yes, I was Mary’s daughter, she said, “Oh! I thought you were white.”

“Yes, I’m sure you did. I hear that a lot,” I replied.

“You do look white though, but not in a bad way,” she said.

“Uh, huh,” I said, looking at her with a confused expression on my face.

Juliette quietly said to me, “Now what the hell is that supposed to mean? How are you going to tell somebody how they look and then say, ‘it’s not in a bad way’?”

Juliette read my mind. I dropped my head, trying to conceal my laughter from the woman. God forbid I made her feel bad for the ridiculous comment she had just made.

To this day I’m still trying to understand how I look white but not in a bad way…