Malcolm X; Hair (1965)

Ill never forget the day I was sent home from school because of the vermin feasting on my head. I was in fifth grade and we were in the middle of science class when the principal of the small private school I attended barged into the classroom like a bat out of hell, screaming about the mandatory lice check. I had no idea what this crazy woman was talking about; I remember thinking “ what is a lice?”. Slowly she made  her way around the classroom untying all the braids and hairbands of the girls around me. I didn't understand what was going on. Why was my principal shuffling awkwardly around the room checking  my friends hair? I still had no clue what was happening when she told Chelsea, the girl sitting at the desk to my right, to go wait at the door. Poor Chelsea looked as if she was just told unicorns didn’t exist, with a single tear running down her cheek. The next thing I know my braid is being untied and my long black hair is falling into my face. I hear the sigh from Ms. Gannon and am told to go wait at the door. 

Reading this selection from the Autobiography I was instantly transported back to the busy supermarket Walking through the aisles at the nearby mart, watching my mother frantically toss items into the cart, not worrying about the pain I knew was coming. As we got home my mother put an apron over me and began combing out my hair. As she was adding the Lice “concoction” to my hair I could feel the heat beginning to surge in my skull and my skin threatening to tear apart.  My mother looked at the clock and said wait ten minutes, but I didn’t think I could wait another ten seconds. I ran to the sink and shoved my head under. The hot water felt like it was “raking my skin off”. After my mother, like Shorty, delicately combed my hair with the fine toothed lice comb we had just purchased. The pain was slowly diminishing.

My lice incident can relate to Malcolm's conk treatment in feeling but in the end I had to have the treatment done to rid myself of pests and to be allowed back into school while he realized he was playing a role in self- degradation. I was enduring pain to rid myself of disease while he was  inflicting pain on himself and bringing himself disease. He was violating his “God- created body to try to look “pretty” by white standards.” I can relate to the burning pain he felt and I can also relate to the feeling of inferiority and the notion of changing yourself to please the stereotypical image of beauty. Reading this selection from the autobiography has made me both remember an interesting time in my life and think about how I change myself to please others.