I was in a bookstore when a white woman in her late thirties began taking great interest in me. Your hair looks great. It's so easy. My daughter is looking to cut her hair short. Where did you get yours done? I am generally suspicious of engaging in "hair" talk with white people, I tend to fear that it will culminate in them asking if they can touch mine, and I like to avoid that conversation at all costs.

I told her who cut my hair and that the reason I cut it was because I refuse to comb my hair more than once every three months. I told her that since I cut it short I haven't really had to give my hair a second thought, and I prefer it that way. My daughter doesn't like to do anything with her hair either.

I took out the business card of my hair salon and handed it to the woman. I informed her that although the stylist is white he has a lot of experience with African American hair...and curly hair, I added, assuming that curly hair is the reason she approached me to begin with.

I walked over to the fiction section and begin to browse. About fifteen minutes later the woman passed by me on her way out the door. She was followed by her daughter, who, like me, was half black.