Weave Us Alone!

Now…we all know you don’t have to be an elite writer or columnist, or whatever the hek you aspire to be, or better yet, get asked by a mate to be a once-off freelancer for a new idea of hustling a magazine that might not even be published, to remain relevant in this demanding world we live in. I say this with all the niceness in me, which varies from time to time, based on my “how do I make today more significant than yesterday” moments or why I chose to wear a yellow t-shirt instead of a clown suit? Awkward moments consume even the best of us at times. But in this day and age, we channel all those “awkward moments” into something else and somehow let our weaves do the talking.

Yes, this could get ugly. Much like the awfully painful-looking weaves we make a part of our daily lives. It’s become a serious matter, an awkward cause for concern; because as young children, growing up, I’m pretty sure we were taught to surround ourselves with greatness. Or at least, that’s my hopefully accurate conclusion. And if we struggle to be amongst the best, we often resort to forcing notions of conforming and trying to perfect the almost impossible, which can be quite tricky. ‘Tricky’ could very easily lead to “tacky” and guess what, people who fall under that category really couldn’t care less.

That so-called “tacky” weave definitely tells a story about you, by the way, just in case you didn’t know, which often screams “cheap-ass, broke-ass, and skanky hood-rat”. These are the ‘kind’ words society has dubbed on their fellow African sisters. Funny, sad, but more realistically, true.

In the spirit of beauty, the weave fascination has become a sensation to many females world-wide. It has managed to blast our African female beauties at large lengths (excuse the pun. It really wasn’t intended. Well, maybe just a little bit) and more so, our black South African sisters at even greater magnitudes. Divas, hustlers, ghetto-barbies, ladies, honeys, babes and dolls all miraculously united in the weave war-front. Okay, maybe that was a little too dramatic, but in essence, each of these characters have their own perception about how to go about making their weave the best in S.A. It’s become a battle of judgment and prejudice confrontation, without saying a word. The weave does the talking.

Rock-hard, busted, ‘rotten’ hair has become popular, in a world of its own, believe it or not. More and more South African females are content with the tarnished brands they choose to consume and have somehow created their own niche in the weave hustle. Make no mistake, they know for a fact that they are indeed purchasing one of the worst products in their entire lives, but for the love of conforming to what they hope is the best, the doubt and painful regret becomes null and void. Strange people out there hey…

Then there’s the lavish, pretty, goal-orientated (which honestly isn’t as relevant as society makes it out to be when it comes to which weave brand they prefer) and sassy black South African woman are in a league and class of their own, apparently. Society has its way of creating labels for its fellow citizens and strangely enough, they accept those almost unnecessary yet awkwardly relevant attachments to define their amazing hair. Oh sorry, I mean…weave? Yes, that! My kindness tends to get slightly ‘retarded’ at times, so don’t mind me. Pardon instead.

From 8 inch to 24 inch pieces and packets of Indian and Brazilian human hair (literally), men are making wives out of these beautifully weaved-up divas. How refreshing is that? Err…rather arbitrary and corny, I’d say. The slick and sexy weave ends up becoming more worthy of mature daily life traditions and happenings than the actual purity and soulful spirit of a natural South African beauty. The things we do to be the greatest woman, is the story told by our weaves; Astonishing.

‘Afro’, what is that? ‘Natural’, who are you trying to insult? ‘Bald’, I refuse to be cast as an alien in my awesome circle of friends! ‘African’, I know who I am okay!? This is the reality we are scared to face. Man or woman, young or old. We live in a nation and society where we just let things slide. Makes people talk less. Show off more. It’s that weave that makes “them” real. Sure.

Nontombi "Mini" Mdlalo is a bubbly and charismatic young lady with a wit sharper than Debora Patta's nose. Mini is a lover of all things alternative. A marketing student who is truly passionate about her work.