White people, don’t touch my hair

Now, I must admit that I’m generally not that sensitive about people touching or asking questions about my hair, because it rarely happens.  My hair is by and large not that interesting.  I don’t have corn rows or an afro or dreds or a jerri curl.  It’s short, plain and professional (except for the 4-5 days before I get it cut).    So unlike my friends who have more “ethnic” hair, I didn’t grow up having to tell my classmates, “no, you can’t touch my hair.”  And while I have, on occasion, had to explain, “yes, I do wash my hair,” or “yes, I do have to brush it; it does make a difference,” touching was not much of an issue.

So, I wish someone would explain to me why in the last two weeks, two of my adult co-workers decided to rub there little pasty fingers on my head without provocation or invitation?  No, rubbing my head will not bring you “good luck,” as one of them suggested.  And quite frankly, I would think that it goes without saying that univited hair touching is socially improper.  My head is not an angora sweater; you are not allowed to rub or caress it.  WTF.

In addition to it just being an inappropriate invasion of my personal space, I thought there was a memo that went out (circa I don’t know, when you were in 7th grade) that informed your ignorant ass that black people do no like it when white people invite themselves to touch their hair.  It’s on par with defending yourself against charges of racism, by saying, “but I have black friends.”  In other words, if you have gone through puberty someone should have corrected you on this behavior by now.  It’s just that fundamental.  I understand that you like it, but it’s not okay.  At best, it’s a condescending display of your curiosity.  At worst, it’s grounds for me to snap your fucking fingers off.

If you’re taken aback by this, might I suggest a primer from my friends Johnny and Sally.  Their mode of communication is irony.  White people like irony, right?