Hey everyone, been quite a while since my last fanfiction endeavor, even longer since my last Boondocks story. With Aaron McGruder fading into the background these last recent years, I felt compelled at last to write something simple but heart warming about a topic that has both fascinated and plagued me in my own lifetime. Enjoy.
Jazmine Dubois sat upon the dainty cushioned stool before her vanity mirror, eyes averted, and mindlessly tracing the exquisite wood carving of the feminine furniture. Anything to keep herself distracted from the mess upon her head, the insufferable tangle of honey curls nestled atop what she would have otherwise considered a flawless woman staring back at her from within the reflective glass.
She reviled days like these, when her hair was once again the subject of her merciless scrutiny, emerald gaze glaring angrily at each tightly woven coil of tress. Most of the time she was able to ignore it. For so long, that was exactly what she did. And rarely did people react badly to it; nothing more than a harmless yet ignorant remark from her innocent peers.
But at sixteen, she was at the end of her rope in regards to her hair. Each year, new styling products would come out, and she would try each one in desperate attempt to find something to properly manage the feral abandon that was her hair. To no avail. Her mother was never any help, and her father was just as well. There had to be something she could do. The self loathing was becoming unbearable, and while she may have been somewhat naive throughout her life, she was aware enough to know that she did not deserve this kind of animosity, least of all from herself.
Jazmine forced herself to look upon her hair once again, facing her denied afro fully at last. In an instant, his image flashed across the inside of her eyelids, Huey Freeman, silhouetted by a blazing summer sun. It was the sign she was looking for, the more she contemplated him, and everything he would tell her. Their friendship had endured through the years, and though his signals were oft mixed, even inexplicable, it was obvious after some time that he too had become accustomed to her companionship. All much to her pleasure; as abrasive as he could be, there was truly a priceless heart keeping him alive.
She remembered the incident a month ago, when she straightened her hair for the first day of school, only to sweat far too much during an unfairly active gym session, causing her hair to frizz into her taboo afro. She exited the girls bathroom, trying to hide lingering tears and puffy red eyes, only to have Huey facing her, expectant that they would walk home together as was the status quo.
He saw her tears, resisted rolling his own eyes, and inquired unto her calmly.
What's the matter, Jazmine?
She almost laughed, upon remembering. She could be such a blubbering idiot sometimes.
It's my stupid hair...I straightened it today, but I got so sweaty in gym that it just...
His hand cupped her shoulder gently. Honestly Jazmine...it looks fine. You shouldn't care so much about it.
EASY FOR YOU TO SAY! CONFIDENT HUEY FREEMAN NEVER BATS AN EYE AT ANYTHING.
Calm down for goodness sake. If it's really that important to you, maybe I can help. Maybe you're approaching it the wrong way. Have you thought about having some black hairstyles done?
...Black...hairstyles? There are hairstyles for black people?
He did roll his eyes then. Of course there are Jazmine. And I'm no hairdresser but I'd say your texture is perfect for that sort of thing.
Jazmine remembers clamming up, trying to process his offer with anger lingering in her system. He eventually feels put off, and disengages like the gentleman he is.
Just think about it, okay?
And he walked home without her that day.
He never mentioned her hair again. And neither did she. The entire month they ignored the instance, and perhaps that was for the best for a little while. There was no lasting conflict. But in secrecy, Jazmine would find herself in the weeks that followed pondering his words, his advice.
Huey was right all along. Beneath his childish gibes about how black she was and what a big afro she had, was a boy trying to tell her she was fine the way she was. And when she truly thought about it, Huey's own afro was a touchstone of his organic, raw, realistic nature. And how proudly, even beautifully, did he wear it.
...So why couldn't she?
Jazmine glanced at her cell phone laying upon her bedspread. Her stomach sank for a moment, at the thought of going out in public without her hair pulled back in any way, nothing framing her face but the untamed coils and kinks of her belligerently natural hair.
Naive, maybe; but she was not a coward. She seized her phone, dialed Huey, and he answered on the second ring.
"Hey Jazmine."
"Hey Huey...um, I was wondering...could I come over?"
"Of course. You don't need to call to ask...is something wrong?"
"No! No...not at all...I'll be over there soon."
Their eyes...she could feel their eyes on her, random people passing her by. Either that, or she was paranoid. Yes, she decided she was paranoid. As long as she kept reminding herself that she was paranoid, she could keep taking one step after the other, until at last she found herself at the Freeman residence's doorstep. With a trembling finger, she rang their doorbell, swallowing a ceaseless lump in her throat as she heard footsteps approaching from the other side. Another jolt of anxiety shot through her nerves as she thought about the possibility of having to deal with someone other than her truest friend in her vulnerable state.
The mahogany door opened, and praise be God, Huey's form now faced her, brows creased in his trademark scowl and yet she knew this expression to be concern instead. He said nothing at first, initially looking into her eyes with confusion, before his stare roved to her enormous honey blonde afro flayed in all directions.
He finally spoke. "I honestly can't believe it."
"W-what...?" She said softly, her voice quivering, mouse-like.
"That you went out in public like that."
She couldn't help it. Her natural sensitivity overcame her, and she fell to her knees sobbing furiously into the palms of her hands.
"Jazmine...Jazmine! Come on..." Huey knelt by her side, gripping her arms and trying to help her rise once more.
"Look, I didn't mean it like that at all. I'm proud of you, actually."
Her cries died down at his words. "R-really...? But why?"
She focused upon his visage, and although he wore no distinctive mien, there was a warmth in his eyes; a smooth, and comforting depth in his vocal tones.
"Because I know how weird you are about your hair, and I know how hard it is for you to accept it. It's not easy for us, Jazmine...the rest of the world wants our hair straight when it comes out of our scalps anything but."
In a rare phenomenon, she could have sworn to have seen him smile. It could have been just a trick of the light.
"It took guts, Jazmine, I mean it."
Jazmine wiped away her muddled face, taking his hands for support as he helped her back up.
"Will you...still help me find some good black hairstyles? Maybe even someone...around here who knows how to do it?"
And then, he actually smirked. "It would be my pleasure. Come upstairs, we can look up pictures on my computer to give you some ideas."
With watery eyes and a grateful smile, she followed him inside, whilst she ran her fingers against the wild hair fanning out from her skull, and found that suddenly, it didn't feel as rough and course as she used to believe.