When a “stupid little wig” caused a strong reaction

By Freddy Macha

We had walked the streets.

Celebrating 70 years of power of the Queen.

Joyfully, waving hands, cheering, shouting, watching and checking. Speaking of leaving, the two ladies with me were busy commenting on other women’s clothes and appearances.

“Queen’s green is the best,” said one.

I nodded. Queen Elizabeth’s green costume with matching green hat and white gloves looked stunning.

“Fred, you like green, don’t you?” »


I agreed.

“And you?”

“I’m a purple girl.”

Followed by a giggle.

The English language has amazing descriptions of colors. Mauve is a pale purple, lilac a pale mauve, while purple, the “sparkling” one, wanders through a similar “tribe” of shades…

You can put these four colors together and party. Just like scarlet, red, brown and pink. Or black, grey, aluminum and ash. Yellow, brown, orange and chocolate.

Colors are a fascinating representation of nature.

And while we were there, we ran into a couple I knew, both black. The female was mesmerizing in a loose purple dress. Yes, despite all the criticism of the British Empire and colonialism, many of us black people were on the streets, eager to cheer on a woman who has been on the throne since February 1952. In 2020, the Sunday Times Rich List placed Queen Elizabeth as the 372nd richest individual with an estimated worth of £350 million.

The black couple had matching purple hats.

“Mauve is beautiful,” I said. Ladies like the recognition of what they wear. Us guys too. But for the ladies, it’s the sugar, spice and tea of ​​psychology.

As we were chatting, walking, stopping, checking the scene and chatting again, I noticed something strange. A friend of mine laughed continuously, shamelessly.

A few minutes later, we lost the couple dressed in purple in the large festive crowd.

We were now near a glacier. The two were licking chocolate cones. I was drinking mango juice. A smoothie.

“Why were you laughing so much, Judith?

Judith (pseudonym) was black as night. Long black hair, which she had braided proudly since childhood. Proudly.

Judith: “I will never understand my dear sisters. That hair thing. What exactly is wrong with our… friend… up there? »

Did Judith’s laugh refer to the couple dressed in purple?

“Yes. Did you take a good look at her? Her body is amazing. Not an ounce of fat on her. Her skin is…how shall I put it? Smooth as yogurt. Black people, we’re so lucky with our colors, Seriously! She has such a beautiful body!”

The other woman quickly chimed in, “I could kill for her curves.” Such a class. And I haven’t even started talking about her boyfriend! Good God !


“No, they are married, luv. Not boyfriend! Husband and wife dear!”

Judith was now peppery and full of energy: “Look at this beauty! This brilliant work of God! And her hair? What’s wrong with her hair? Short but crisp. Smooth. Tell me people? Am I naive? Such a beauty and that stupid little wig on her head. That’s what I don’t understand about our sisters. I know a sister with a huge beauty salon. The wigs they sell are out of this planet. Wigs are getting more and more ridiculous. Some look like dried, rotting tree branches. So ugly. Some look like sisal umbrellas. Some are so poorly designed that they make the wearer look like death. Dying. You can tell they are damn uncomfortable. I was shocked the other day when I went to a party and a white woman asked me point-blank where I bought my wig because it looked so amazing. I almost slapped her. I said it wasn’t a wig. This is my natural hair. We don’t all wear wigs. But then I understood the poor woman. We are too! An entire industry created JUST FOR US BLACKS with dead people’s hair…mostly from Asia. Sad and serious. Sad and serious! I laughed because she was really… how to say. Oh my God. Forgive me for my language. SHE DOESN’T NEED A STUPID WIG! Her short hair is heaven! But good God! Have you seen her… her wig? I stared at the little thing rising up the side of his face. A little ribbon thing. A little patch of brown ribbon THAT DOES NOT MATCH WITH THE REST OF HER CLOTHES…this SILLY brown patch. Why did she need that SILLY brown wig? It’s like us black women wear wigs just for fun. As if we hated each other. We don’t like our bodies our natural hair anymore! This is a global African crisis!

Judith huffed and huffed and coughed and sneezed and huffed like someone struggling to climb a steep mountain.

About Dwayne Wakefield

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