Growing up, I yearned for a sanctuary, for a place to not only protect me but where my people could gather. Catholicism, the religion my grandparents practiced, did not soothe the fervent curiosity I had for the world. While the church preached love and equality, I felt anything but that. Instead of the church, I turned to my mother’s salon. Her salon, which was also our living room, was a shrine of sorts. Her talent for braiding was salvation for me and the friends who came into our home. The hair salon was my sanctuary where I went to deliver myself. We did not have verses, but hair codes that we knew by heart: 613, 1B, 350. Our hymns were Missy Eliot’s “Get Ur Freak On” and Tracy Chapman’s “Fast Car”. I learned how to “love thy neighbor” in a way that the church never showed me. We came as we were and my mother never judged us. This multimedia project is an experiment in Afro-fabulation rooted in my experience with religion. I’ve braided 13-foot wigs, done collaboratively between myself, friends, and family, to be modeled on “hair deities”. I am shooting in local hair salons, friends' apartments, and beauty supply stores, all of which are acting as sanctuaries. The portraits of hair deities are inspired by my interest in West African practices of spirituality. This work is an homage to the gathering place that is the salon. Through this project, I am cherishing the many Black women who used their hands as vessels for freedom.
