I had a brief encounter with a white woman on a bus stop. I was wearing my box braids and she raised her hand -who knows if it was clean or not- and reached to my head to touch them. We didn’t know each other. She didn’t have the right to touch me without my consent and there she was, running her hands through my hair while saying “I love them”.

I don’t know you, I don’t owe you a conversation, I don’t even owe you a glance. Why are you touching me? Why are you talking to me?

If the situation was different, if she happened to see a white girl with gorgeous hair, I’d bet she wouldn’t have dared to touch her hair without consent.

These situations repeat themselves at least twice a week. Sometimes people that sit behind me during classes dare to touch my twists, braids, dreads without even asking first. Sometimes when I’m introduced to new people they give me two kisses – as the tradition goes in my country – and swiftly go onto touching my hair and usually compliment it. Then again, they didn’t even ask me if they were allowed to. Why are they touching me?

If I dared to touch a white girl’s hair, she’d probably look disgusted at me. She’d move, letting me know that that expression of familiarity was not welcomed. I would be forced to back off, the bystanders would’ve thought that there was something wrong with me – Who goes out there touching people’s hair?-

If I, a black girl, had the same reaction a white girl would have had, I would have been encountered with “it was just a compliment” or even “you’re rude”.

I am not allowed to touch a stranger’s hair on a public space – or anywhere really- no matter what they are. I respect them as human beings and recognize that I am not entitled to them. They don’t owe me anything. Why should they?

On the other hand, everyone is entitled to touch the hair of a black girl, or to touch them, period. Because nobody owes us space or respect. We do not have that privilege, so we should be content with being petted like a dog and respond with a smile instead. We’re supposed to be grateful that someone has curiosity about us, because everyone else despises us. We should be glad that someone is interested in a part of us.

This situation is not that different from the street harassment lots of women face on a daily basis. In both cases, women are disrespected by people with a sense of entitlement about them.

But, as street harassment affects women of all races, it has to be talked about and someone has to do something about it. Black girls endure unwanted touching by strangers, men and women of all races, on top of also facing street harassment, but, as it, as a whole, only affects us, it doesn’t matter. We don’t matter.

You’re not entitled to me. I am not yours. We might be the most disrespected and neglected women in the face of earth, but we don’t owe you anything.

The next time you have the impulse of touching someone else’s hair because you deem it “different”, “strange” or even “beautiful” back off a second and think if you would do the same to a person of a different race.

I betcha wouldn’t.

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Hannah
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