Locals ‘speak power into hair’ in celebration of Black hair styles

DeKALB – For Michael Calhoun of DeKalb, his locks are more than just a hairstyle. “It’s a way of life,” he said.

Calhoun, who is better known as “Church” in the DeKalb community, said the preferred term for his chosen style the past decade isn’t dreadlocks, it’s “locks” because dread carries a negative connotation. While his motivation for keeping the style so long has been largely convenience, he said it’s grown into a bonding experience between him, nature and energy around him.

“It feels good,” Calhoun said. “Like it’s a spiritual thing.”

Calhoun’s spiritual approach to his locks harkens to the hairstyle’s Rastafarian roots, which were said to have been planted when Ethiopian Emperor Haile Selassie I was crowned in 1930. Selassie spent time in exile after Italy invaded Ethiopia and, until he was freed, guerrilla warriors vowed not to cut their locked hair.

Though Rastafarianism encouraged more natural and less refined locks, many people especially those in Black communities, further adapted the style by applying techniques to keep their hair looking well-groomed.

Mariyah Ofei, a DeKalb resident and Calhoun’s loctician, said she’s had her own locks for about six years. She agreed with Calhoun’s reason for getting locks – more out of convenience and less upkeep than an afro, for example – and said she also prefers the term locks.

”We try to speak power into our hair,” Ofei said. “Because it’s not dreadful – it’s just locked.”

Illinois lawmakers recently passed a law saying Black hair styles such as cornrows, locks or afros cannot be banned in school dress codes – or else the school risks losing its Illinois State Board of Education recognition status. The Jett Hawkins Law, as it is called, was named after a Chicago student who was told his braids violated the school’s decades-old dress code.

The Jett Hawkins Law went into effect this year, on Jan. 1.

Ofei said she questions why Black hair styles were even banned in the first place and that time spent debating whether or not to ban them could’ve been used on better things. She said she would ask anyone who might take issue with Black hairstyles why take issue instead of seeing past the hair to the person, or employee.

“So long if I’m getting to the business, that’s what I feel like should really matter,” Ofei said.

Ofei, who’s been self-employed as a full-time stylist since 2017, said she’s never had to deal with dress code issues related to her hair personally.

“And if I did, I wouldn’t take that job,” Ofei said.

Calhoun also said he’s never faced any such issues and said he wouldn’t take a job if his locks violated a workplace policy. As a child who grew up in 1990s Chicago, he said he experienced heavy stereotypes related to his locks.

“But I feel like the narrative is changing,” Calhoun said. “Seriously.”

For Ofei, Black hair styles show the wearer’s creativity, she said. It’s another way for people – including her clients – to express and stay true to themselves, whatever that may look like.

“Because at the end of the day, I always tell them, this is your head,” Ofei said.

Alexzandra Austin of DeKalb said she was told braids were used by slaves to create hidden messages and maps to freedom. She said she personally expresses herself through her hair, since she wears a lot of black clothes as a full time stylist.

“It just shows your personality,” Austin said.

Chanice Williams of DeKalb, who works as a technician at Northwestern Medicine Kishwaukee Hospital, said she wears the same scrubs eery day as part of her work uniform. Like Austin, Williams said her hair is the only thing that changes, at least when it’s not up in a cap for surgery.

“But walking into work, you know, that’s a fashion statement in itself – you want to look good walking into work,” Williams said. “You’re helping people at probably the worst time of their lives, so you want to look good. When you look good, you feel good.”

Austin and Williams said they have been friends their whole lives and danced together growing up. Austin recalled how she would have to adjust her hair to meet dance dress code requirements, such as having to put it up in a bun.

“We would have to get a weave added to our hair or do something else because our regular hair wasn’t going to do what everybody else’s hair was going to do,” Austin said.

Williams said she believes other people consider locks an unprofessional look and that there’s a stigma to Black hairstyles.

“I think there’s so much in that culture that, if people actually took the time to research and actually figure out what locks mean to people and their journey with them, I think there would be a lot more appreciation for it,” Williams said. “Because there’s a lot that goes into having that style.”

Williams said she wanted to remind Black folks especially that identity holds power, and to be proud to wear whatever hairstyle makes them feel best.

“You don’t let anyone on this earth make you feel like it’s not beautiful,” Williams said. “As long as you can wake up and you look in the mirror and those braids, those locks, that afro, that wig, that quick weave ... if that’s beautiful to you and you walk out and you’re confident, it doesn’t matter.”