Why my Biracial Daughter Wears Straight-Hair Wigs - Should I stop her?

Illustrated by Khalid Birdsong on friedchickenandsushi.com

Reading this comic strip, you would think my daughter is confident and comfortable with exactly who she is at all times. Well, you'd be mistaken. Alana (the name I use for her in the comics) is a nine-year-old girl who epitomizes authenticity in every area but her hair.

Gliding into the living room, almost daily, holding her karaoke microphone. Wearing the pink and purple wig her grandparents gave her for Christmas, is nine-year-old Alana. My half Japanese, half African-American daughter. 

On the one hand, I know she likes wearing the wig because it's straight and she thinks it looks better than her beautiful curly hair. On the other hand, I feel like she should take the wig off and feel good singing with her natural look.

Should I force her to take the wig off and be herself? 

Of course, not. I think I should relax and let Alana pretend to be someone else for a little while. It's the only way, at this age, she will experience her dream of having long straight hair. Besides, It's fun.

The reality can be challenging to accept at times, though.

She'd rather have a straight look than her naturally curly mixed-ish hair. 

I understand that most people are not in love with their hair and wish it could be different, but Alana really gets upset with what she's got. And I think I know why.

Alana is the only girl on both sides of our families with mixed hair. 

In fact, she's the only one who's biracial. My side is all African-American, and my wife's family are all Japanese. 

When Alana spends time with either side, it's clear that she doesn't look just like them. Of course, I know she's unique and beautiful but, I am her father. The fact that Alana doesn't see her self represented in our family may be making it difficult to feel connected. Now that she's growing older, she's noticing more and articulating her frustrations.

My wife and I want her to be proud of being a part of two races and cultures but know we can't fully understand how she feels. 

I will say, though, living as people of color in the United States gives us perspectives on what it's like to be treated differently. Still, we both can return to our upbringing as a way to ground ourselves.

I'm proud of being black and can share any trials and tribulations of black life with my family. My wife was born and raised in Japan. She can return to her country and take in everything she loves and fit right into the culture.

No matter where we go, Alana stands out. 

Some of this desire for straight hair comes from watching movies and TV shows, of course. She sees so many white girls, and even Japanese girls—when we're watching TV Japan—with hair Alana feels is "beautiful and easy to comb."

What can we do? 

I'm grateful for the short film "Hair Love," directed by Matthew A. Cherry about an African-American girl and her father learning to do her hair. There were so many moments watching it where Alana shouted, "That's like when you do my hair, Daddy!"

Another great example is the "Black-ish" TV show spinoff "Mixed-ish." Where Tracee Ellis Ross tells the story of her character, Rainbow, as a child growing up as a biracial child in the 1980s. The show is funny, heartfelt, and honest about how confusing it can be at times living in the middle of two families of different races, with a desire to love and honor both equally. 

These beautiful examples of representation help to foster conversations. 

Without them, I don't think we could discuss being mixed race as smoothly. Alana sees herself as unique and has a better understanding of her place in the world because of these creative artists.

I hope by sharing this story in writing, and comic strip format inspires those who need to see themselves represented. 

Representation is grand, but it doesn't solve all our challenges.  

Alana still doesn't like getting her hair combed.

We're working on that.

Why I Miss Living in Japan

Photo by Galen Crout on Unsplash

Moving back home to the U.S. after living in Japan for two years was a shock to my system in more ways than one. 

You always hear about how harmonious and helpful everyone is in Japan. I love the country, but it’s not an easy place to live as an ex-pat, especially if you speak very little Japanese. 

Photo by Alexander Smagin on Unsplash

Life in the ‘land of the rising sun’ does have its perks, though. You can have a level of peace and solitude that I find difficult to come by in the United States. Crime is low and everyone is accustomed to living politely (and quietly) with their neighbors.

That tranquility among the noise is a massive part of what I miss about being in Japan. 

I felt like a human being instead of a threat.

Living in Japan for two years as an African-American male was a challenge, but also liberating.

I was an English teacher with the JET Programme and truly loved the cultural exchange with the students and teachers in the Junior High Schools where I worked.

For me, in particular, I was not just a “black man” there, with all the fear and stereotypes that come along with it. I found I was lumped into one general category—foreigner.

Students saw me as a person from another country, fascinated with my hair and curious about what America was really like.

As I walked the streets of Osaka, I felt like a person and not someone the public would see as a threat. It was miraculous! 

Sometimes people stared because I looked different.  

Only because I wasn’t Japanese and not because I was black. Being six feet three, I found people were also mesmerized by my height.

It was astounding, no women clutched their purses as they passed or crossed the street when they saw me walking towards them on the sidewalk. 

The biggest load-off my mind? Not worrying about getting shot by the police. I’m dead serious. That was a game-changer.

You should always be aware of your surroundings anywhere you go. Still, I’ll admit, I became pretty relaxed within the safety of the cities in Japan. Watching my back became a distant memory.

I felt like a person.

I love my country but after years of feeling like the “negative other” in America, I can forget I have value. Believe it or not, when I’m in the U.S., there are plenty of instances when I feel like saying the phrase popularized by Jesse Jackson, “I am somebody” to myself. Just to remember, I matter. 

I have to consciously think about this when moving through life in the U.S. Tell myself I have value. Most of the negative stereotypes for black people perpetuated in the media and entertainment, tell a different story.  

When I daydream about moving to a quiet rural area, where I can have solitude, reality always seeps in. It’s not the answer for all people. Jobs may be scarce, and if you’re not independently wealthy, you’ll need to pursue a career in a major city to make money to live the life you want. 

Even as a black male, I’m afraid people living outside of big cities may have fewer interactions with people of color and be more closed-minded. 

Living in Japan, experiencing each day as a different kind of “other”— compared to in America— was a special time in my life. I will say though, I do know through that experience, what it feels like to be seen as scary, only because I look different. 

Photo by Laura Thonne on Unsplash

You experience prejudice as a foreigner in Japan. It’s just different.

Each day wasn’t perfect. There were times I would sit down on a subway train, and the person next to me would stand up and walk to a different area. Renting an apartment can be a challenge because some buildings do not rent to non-Japanese.

Getting together with other ex-pats helped relieve some of the microaggressions. You quickly understand that it doesn’t matter where you’re from or the color of your skin. If you do not look Japanese, you have situations where you are treated as a guest and not a citizen. Everyone could relate, come together, and vent their frustrations and also share what they love about living in Japan. 

I often thought about how sad it was I had to leave my country of birth and move all the way to Asia to feel safe and at peace.

You don’t need to live in Japan to find yourself. Although, for an experience of a lifetime, visiting is most certainly recommended. The country is beautiful, rich in history and culture, and Japanese people are very kind to visitors. Things get more complicated when you live there for a long period of time.

Don’t let this scare you. 

Have the courage to move to a new place if you feel the urge to experience something exciting and different.

I’m still searching for my next tranquil place to call home. Something close to what I had in Japan. The reality of moving to any new country will always stick with me, though. 

Living abroad helps you understand that no country, city, or neighborhood, is perfect. 

When I find my next tranquil home, I expect to enjoy the positives and take the negatives with a grain of firm salt. 

Do People Fall Off of Treadmills at the Gym?

I can’t be the only one…

I'm not a gym guy. I've tried several times, but I can't make it work for me the way my friends can. My mind gets overwhelmed and discombobulated every time I enter one and try to use the machines.

I know, making it a habit would probably help. Over time I'd memorize how to use each one and gain more confidence.

But I ask you, is it really worth it to commit to a gym?

Why are so many people willing to spend their time and energy moving their bodies, sweating like the crazy, stuck inside of a building?

"Spinning" on bikes that don't move. Running on treadmills that go nowhere while watching HGTV.

What are we, human hamsters?

It makes me want to walk around, yelling at people, "Stop working so hard to go nowhere! I know it's cold outside but have some balls. Get a real bike and ride! Ride to an actual place. Move forward. Go somewhere in life!"

To be fair, I can see going to a gym as a win if it's the only way you get motivated to exercise.

You get to drive, not walk or bike, to a building that is enclosed, shut off from the real world, where you can escape.

Like taking a trip to Exercise Land.

Walking in, you see beautiful in-shape bodies, a few that could use some work, and the gym wakes up your senses. And your jealousy.

"I gotta spin and lift too so I can look like all of these Greek Gods."

You smell the motivation in the air. Or is that athlete's foot? Either way, you're pumped.

That's how I try to feel when I enter a gym. It's usually one a friend invites me to in hopes I fall in love with the overpriced sweat house.

It all seems so magical. So, encouraging. Until I walk up to my nemesis.

The treadmill.

Theoretically, I should be able to step on it and just start walking. I'm sure that's how they were back in the olden' days.

Everything has to be so damn advanced now that I have to anxiously go through pressing buttons and choosing settings just to start.

I only want to get moving so I can go nowhere like everyone else.

The super-fit woman to the right of me who clearly has been running for seventeen straight hours tries not to watch me fumble around with the treadmill motherboard.

The guy on the left just gives a smirk. I bet he's thinking, "Look, a new guy. What a loser. He probably wastes all of his time running outside. In...nature."

Once I figure out a setting that will make the treadmill move, I can finally start walking. The choices don't end there, though.

I have to choose a TV station to watch. Here I am taking a stroll and channel surfing. Trying to enjoy the multi-tasking, first-world problem of what to watch while breathing hard and sweating.

After going through all the channels, you know where I end up.

HGTV.

Walking turns to jogging. The feeling is incredible. The treadmill surface is softer than the hard concrete, so I get the false sense that I can run farther than I ever can out in the elements.

I'm jogging while watching a couple remodel their mid-century modern home. Continually checking how many imaginary miles I've completed here in this building of "No pain, no gain."

One mile. I ran one mile. It feels like ten. Probably because I'm still in the same place I started.

Slowing down to a walk again seems like an excellent idea. Change up the pace, like interval training.

Boy, was I wrong.

As I ease back into a walk, I start feeling dizzy. Do you feel like this on one of these things too?

Like a fool, I blame it on HGTV.

Changing the channel will help. I reach for the channel button, the room spins, and I fall forward onto the treadmill.

Or is it back as the moving surface pulls me down and onto the floor?

What do you know, the treadmill surface stops moving. No buttons to press. I just had to fall on my face.

The lady on the right looks surprised for a second but can't stop running, she's too close to completing her five thousand miles.

The guy on the left keeps running but yells out, "You okay, dude?!"

I get myself up slowly, give a shy wave to my super athletic neighbors, and hobble away in shame.

My knee hurts from the fall but not as much as—let's say it together—my pride.

Please tell me falling off treadmills is something that happens at gyms regularly.

It can't only be my failed attempt at running in place.

How to Succeed Using "The Parenting Mindset"

If you want to do anything meaningful in life, you always hear experts say it's crucial to be a "self-starter" or a person who's "motivated" to be successful? 

Maybe you feel like that's for a special kind of person. What if you think there's no way that can be you?

It doesn't mean you have nothing in the world to strive for or go after. You may have big dreams.

You're just not doing what it takes to move forward. 

I bet you've read or heard inspirational teachers saying, define what real success looks like to you. Find your reason "why," to make it important enough. And that will motivate you to pursue your goals.

This is good advice, but what if you still have trouble moving forward toward what you consider success?

Take on "The Parenting Mindset." 

Maybe you're not even a parent. But one thing is true—you must take care of yourself. 

No one else is going to, not really. 

Your life is totally, and without a doubt, all your responsibility.

I am a parent, and one thing I felt when my daughter was born was a massive sense of responsibility. Babies are helpless. Even though I knew this intellectually, the fact that she couldn't do anything for herself hit me like a ton of bricks. 

If my wife and I didn't feed, clothe, and change her diapers regularly, she wouldn't survive.

You are not helpless, however. You can make changes and live the life you choose. No matter what you've been through. 

The hardest part of parenting—the part that created the mindset below—is that you must do all of these things to raise your child, and no one cares if you're tired. 

It doesn't matter if you're sick or depressed. Your baby needs food. Your child needs your support and care.

Think of your life this way.

The parenting mindset involves treating your goals like a child that needs constant care, only you can give, no matter what. 

That's the hard part about life, right? Having to take care of business and move forward even when you're feeling down or "life" is slapping you in the face with a wet towel.

It can be easy to let all your motivation get sucked out of you.

I know there are those of us who have more challenges to overcome than others, but it could always be worse. 

Actually, I would suggest thinking about all the ways it could be worse, so you understand how good you have it. 

Gratitude. It's the perfect reset. Start there, and then keep moving forward.

Sometimes, we're tired and need to rest. That's fine. Take time to recharge, but decide for how long.

Decide to take a break for a few hours—a day, a weekend. Then, get off your buttocks and get back to work.

If you are a parent. Don't use your child as an excuse not to pursue your goals. Look at them as your motivation to succeed.

I know it's challenging, especially in the first year of raising your child, to make time for yourself, but carve out what you can, when you can.

Think about it, which would you instead tell your kids when they grow older, "Raising you was too hard, so I just gave up on my dreams." Or, "Raising you was the challenge that helped make me stronger. You inspired me every day to pursue my dreams to make you proud."

I remember feeling noxious every time I had to wake up multiple times a night to feed or change my daughter's diapers. It was tough, but I got used to it. 

Hard? Yes. For the best reason? Raising my offspring. Heck, Yeah!

I discovered I'm capable of so much more. If I can survive on very little sleep and still go to work and perform at a professional level, I can do more in my life than I previously thought.

Not to mention, using what very little free time I had in the most efficient way possible helped me start my Fried Chicken and Sushi webcomic and update it twice a week consistently. 

I found the magic in how productive you become when you limit the amount of time you have to spend on something.

Try it. Whether you're a parent or not, behave like one.

Take full responsibility for your success. Be grateful for what you have. 

No one will help you the way that you can.

Make up your mind that you can do much more than you think you can each day.

Use your limitations to motivate you.

See how much you can do in a short period. Take what you feel is lacking in your life and reframe how you think about it. Can you turn it into something that can light a fire in you to push harder towards your goals?

I think you can.

No.

I know you can.

Now, get out there and make things happen. Before I put you in time-out.