Now that an Interracial man is on the path to becoming the Dem nominee, I thought it would be fun to post short excerpts and insights from the life of an Interracial American (me).
So here’s one. I went home last weekend for an Italian family celebration, wearing my hair out. Like, big and curly and festive. (Sidenote: As you may or may not know, my hair garners perpetual curiosity and unabashed amazement wherever it goes - but this is the topic of a separate post.)
I got to talking with my grandfather about dress code at my office. He asked me if I am ever asked to pull my hair back or wear it straight/in a bun. I smiled, thinking that the question was entirely timely considering the recent blowup at Glamour.
I told him no, that in fact my co-workers delight in my curls.
He nodded. And smiled to himself. My Grandpop, a Sicilian man of 84, seemed pleased and impressed that my work allows me to wear my hair as natural as it wants to be.