The Big Green House

Monday, January 20, 2003

 

Do the right thing

I spent the early 90�s living in Oakland and studying theater. In 1993 I was playing a part which required me to shave my head. Being the �anything for my art� kinda guy that I was I gladly shaved*, even though it was early in the year & still relatively cold.

Now, this was back before the shaved head thing became the hipster look for young men. I got a lot of strange looks walking down the street, which I attributed to the oddity of my gleaming dome. The fact that a white man with a shaven head, dressed in a black T-shirt, flannel shirt, black leather jacket, torn jeans & black hi-tops (my standard uniform back then), walking down the street of a predominately black city might put some people on edge didn�t occur to me.

That is, not until MLK Day of that year.

I had the day off, so I decided to take advantage of the free time & go see Malcolm X, which was then playing at the neighborhood theater. There was a large line of people waiting to get in, so I went to the back of the line and took my place. I noticed that I seemed to be drawing some stares, and one or two downright nasty looks, from some of my fellow movie patrons. I put this down to their probably thinking that I was doing my duty as a White Liberal by attending that particular movie on that particular day (which wasn�t entirely inaccurate, by the way).

Eventually, the young African-American woman standing behind me said hello; we lived in the same building & had a nodding acquaintance. We chatted for a bit, exchanging the �what do you do and where are you from� stories that people who see each other all the time but don�t really know each other do when stuck together waiting in line. And then she said, �You know, when you first started going around with that shaved head, I thought you were a skinhead.�

I just about dropped my teeth right there and then. I don�t think I�ve ever denied anything as quickly or as completely as I did at that moment. And I made sure never to leave the house without a hat on until my hair grew out again.

And that�s my lame MLK Day story.

*Off-topic, but I must relate this: since my head had to be 100% without hair for every show, I was assigned my own make-up assistant to shave and apply make-up to my head each and every night before a performance. Fortunately my friend Carol drew the duty, so I could relax and trust her to take care with the razor. Plus, I should mention that she was pretty easy on the eyes. I am here to tell you that having your melon shaved clean by a beautiful woman is not an unpleasant experience.

bmarkey 1/20/2003 08:11:00 PM