The Haircut

Yesterday I went to get a haircut and as usual there were a few people ahead of me. I live a bit of a distance from any metropolitan area so I go on base to get my doo done. It only cost twelve bucks and while I might not come out looking like I am about to to do a show at the Apollo, I ain’t walking around looking like my name is “The Fierce Leopard, King of the Wasubi.” Anywho, my time came and I got into the barbers chair. As usual the barber and I engaged in small talk. As he was busy trimming and clipping, this old white guy walks into the barbershop. You could tell he was old because it looked like his skin was starting to fall off. He still had hair, but it looked like some of it fell on the floor when he set down. I know some of you are wondering what did I come to the barber shop for, to get a haircut or do critiques? Well the dude set down right in front of me and I just noticed those things. I mean when you go get a haircut, you know how the barber will sometimes hold your head at a certain angle while he cuts? Well he held mine so I had no choice but to look directly at this old man.

You might also have been able to determine I didn’t like that old man. I could have said, “He was a dignified old man and although the years shown on his face and his somewhat sparse hair, his countenance eluded to his experience and wisdom.” Bullshi@!! I know a racist when I see one!! As the barber was cutting my hair, he said, “Does anybody know how old that man is? He is 96 years old!” I did some quick mental calculation and determined he was born in 1923. I looked at this old man dead in his eyes and said, “That’s incredible, I never met anyone your age. So you were born in 1923?” That old man looked at me like I had just peed in his cereal. I’m like… maybe he didn’t hear me. The other people in the barbershop were going on and on about what he must has seen in his life time and to tell the truth I was also thinking about it. So I decided to give it another shot. I figured he must have been a WWII vet, so I asked him about the day they dropped the Atomic bomb. “Where were you when they dropped the Atomic bomb?”

Now before I continue with this story, I want to give you some background. When I was a young man, I worked for FDIC on 15th st and Pennsylvania Ave NW in Washington DC. Nelson Mandela was still in Robbins Island Prison and apartheid was the law of the land in South Africa. Michael Jackson wanted to “Rock With You” and Richard Pryor was the funniest man on earth. It was lunch time and me and a buddy was going up to K Street NW for lunch. We walked up 15 street NW and when we got to L Street NW, that’s when it happened. I saw this guy walking toward us. He had on one of the crispiest dark brown uniforms I had ever seen. He had medals on both sides of his chest. I mean a “lot of medals!!” His slacks had a light brown stripe down them and he looked very important. So I went up to him and said, “Sir what are all those medals for?” You know what he told me? “None of your business nigg@r.” What@!! I immediately got into my stance!! In those days folks was still watching Jim Kelly who starred in “Enter The Dragon,”and every soul brother had at least two pair of nunchucks and a karate yell. “You gonna take that back #@@!$$. Aheeee… !!!” But my buddy pulled me away and although I was calling him every name in the book, we managed to get going. Later on I found out he was a Colonel in the South African Navy. So why did I tell you this story? Well that’s the look that old man gave me when I asked him about the Atomic bomb. “None of yo business nigg@r..”

I knew then he had heard me the first time. If I didn’t know then, I knew it when my barber asked him the same question moments later, he answered it. I’m getting fired up now. I’m finna jump out that chair and smack that old man back 2 years before the Civil War. Instead I looked at him and said, ” You were alive during segregation, the lynchings of the 1950’s, the 16th street church bombing, the assassination of Martin Luther King… and I was coming up with a few more before the folks in the barbershop interrupted me by saying… and you was here before cell phone .. computers and TV… They all started laughing, but not me. I was looking at that old white man and he was looking at me. As I got out that chair I started thinking to myself, when he was a young man, blacks could not even come to this barbershop, less more get a haircut by a white barber. I took solace in the fact that he had to wait for me to finish my haircut before he got his. I wanted to tell him there is “nigg@r hair in them there clippers boy”, but that is just being evil. So I paid the barber and he said thank you sir. I wish him a good day and as I walked back to my car I thought… “The Fierce Leopard, King of the Wasubi…. hmmm…”