Sweet Herbal Honey Apothecary

From Curator & Organizer Janae' "Jaee" Sumter

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Like in many cultures throughout the diaspora, historically and communally, getting your hair down is an act of storytelling between generations.

As a person from New Orleans, locs or what we call them in Nola, “dreads” was a norm in our upbringing. Growing up, everyone in my wards/hood(s) had locs, afros, perms, braids, or weaves and it was not a taboo like you would find in some communities. I grew up lovin’ and challenging that aspect of myself and my community. It was black and it was us. I didn’t grow up in an economically advantage community, so we knew how to support and uplift each other through service, creativity and exchange with one another. From weekly food pantries at the church to yard sales, swap meets, parties, free crawfish boils, and local community businesses, it was normal.

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I still remember my childhood memories when my grandma would bring me to one of the neighborhood hair braiders to get my hair braided. I always left being fed with good food, conversations, warm hugs, and some cute braids. Goodness was a normal human act like good ole southern hospitality. It wasn’t a second thought because we all got a story.

This act of sacred giving to ourselves and each other is as communal, honest, and traditional as an “I see you” moment of recognition. As I began to move into different cities and countries with their community cultural understanding, I quickly learned the differences and similarities. This included views, language, perception of hair, and ideas of separation as well as togetherness. This balance between cultural understanding and radical self-exploration.

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In 2019, I started my loc journey, two weeks after the passing of my grandfather, now an ancestor who died from COVID when I was living in China. I began to remember those sweet and bittersweet memories and I began to miss the sacredness of exchange. I woke up one rising, started my two-strand method, and never looked back. At that moment, my ancestors guided me back to the vitality of why every one of our stories is worthy, healing, and our own. In that, I remembered that community service is the key to liberation and understanding.

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We all have our own hair story that does or does not define us. We've all cut our hair at one time or another, dyed it, and rocked it in a big or small fro. We've all had braids and hot comb burns that gave us that quick jerk and slick side-eye. We've all had braids and cried when it was too tight. We've had faux locs and protective styles that we covered up with a turban on a “not so hot” hair day. We’ve also been called slurs for how we choose to be liberated in and by our hair. We’ve all had to hide aspects of ourselves and we’ve all had to find ways back to being ourselves.

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 Our hair is a part of our story. It is a powerful, abundant living entity with its way of expressing love to us through community, storytelling, likeness, and difference. This project honors every part of our story and who we are as individuals and as a community who supports each other, even though difference.