By: C Icart, Co-Editor-in-Chief
Last December, I went home to see my family for the holidays, as I do every year. It was a great time, and after months away, the warmth of being in majority-Black spaces envelopes me. So let me let you in on what these spaces are and their historical significance in Black communities.
The beauty supply store
When I go back to Ontario, my mom always asks if I want to take advantage and get my hair done. With a smaller Black population, there are fewer options and higher prices out here in BC. In the past couple of years, I’ve been choosing to rock the faux loc* look, but I was feeling box braids* this time. I needed to go to the beauty supply store to execute my vision. I didn’t realize not everyone knew about these stores until non-Black people started asking me where I got the hair for my box braids when I flew back to Vancouver.
Beauty supply stores are magical. Some even refer to them as “sacred spaces” for Black women.
While drugstore selection has improved, the beauty supply store is one of the only places that has a wide selection of products for Black hair. I walk past the relaxers* and beads my mom used to put in my hair as a kid, towards the seemingly never-ending wall of braiding hair. It comes in all colours and lengths. I called my mom over to help me decide on the shade of red and the number of packs I need (nothing is more annoying than returning to the beauty supply shop with your hair half done because you didn’t buy enough hair). Oh, and can’t forget the bonnet*!
The braider’s house
Black hair salons and barber shops are some of my favourite places on earth (extra points for the ones with TVs playing Afrobeats music videos), but this time we were heading to my mom’s friend’s house. Many Black women take on braiding as a side hustle. On top of making money, they are keeping alive a cultural practice that has existed in Black communities for thousands of years. Different braiding styles differentiated African cultures, and then, the people taken and enslaved during the transatlantic slave trade adapted their hairstyles to their new conditions. This is the origin story of cornrows*, for example. Unlike the times when I’ve fallen asleep while my aunt braided my hair (the process takes hours), visiting this at-home braider was slightly more professional. I showed her the hair and explained the braids I wanted and her expert hands started moving at the speed of light. Lively conversation and cultural exchange (my mom and I are Haitian and the braider is Cameroonian) animated the space as family members walked in and out. Multiple people worked on my hair at once because they had a packed day (it was New Year’s Eve). Both my mom and I walked out looking absolutely fabulous.
The Black church
As a Haitian Canadian queer and trans person, my relationship with Christianity has been . . . complicated. I was raised Christian, went to Catholic school, and went to church with my mom every Sunday. As I got older and learned more about history, social justice, and myself, I started asking the hard questions. What does it mean to adopt a religion that has been both used to justify the oppression of my people and support the Haitian Revolution? Can I pray next to people who use religion to justify homophobic views? But I also knew that this small local Haitian church was one of the only majority-Black spaces I had growing up. Monday–Friday, I was one of 2–3 Black kids in class feeling like an outcast. But on Sunday, I put on my nicest clothes to go to Sunday school with a bunch of kids that look like me.
We sang songs in French and Haitian Creole and socialized after the service. It was a great place for community and returning as an adult for Christmas and catching up with everyone filled my heart. My Sunday school teacher asked me if I still read the Bible I used to annotate as a kid. I answered with a non-committal smile.
The kitchen
Home is where the bannann peze* is. My mom always makes this Haitian side dish for me when I come home because it’s my favourite, and I don’t like deep-frying in my poorly ventilated basement unit. Otherwise, cooking is one of my favourite hobbies. So, considering that I’ve learned how to make pad thai, scallion pancakes, and mushroom risotto from scratch, how is it that I barely know any Haitian recipes? The recipes can’t die with me. I’m sure my mom was thinking the same thing because she was very clear that this New Year, I was going to make and drink soup joumou. So I asked for her recipe, went online and read how other people make it and headed to the grocery store to gather the ingredients for my attempt at veganizing the iconic dish. On January 1, 1804, the Haitian Revolution culminated in independence from the French.
Soup joumou* used to be reserved for slave owners, so drinking the soup every year on January 1 is a powerful act. Prior to European colonization, the land now known as Haiti was inhabited by the Taíno people. When they became independent, Haitians got rid of the colonial name given by the French (Saint-Domingue) and replaced it with Ayiti, the Indigenous Taíno name. My parents say I put too many hot peppers in the soup, but I think it turned out just right!
In past years, I think I approached Black History Month as an opportunity to learn and educate other people about Black Canadian history, because it tends to be overshadowed by African American history. After all, I’m a Black Canadian. But I’m also a second-generation immigrant so, for me, learning about Black history is learning more about Haitian history and celebrating my culture. So from me to you, Bon Mwa Istwa Nwa! Happy Black History Month!
Glossary
Bannann peze: This Haitian creole word directly translating to “pressed plantains” refers to fried plantains. Typically, Haitians will soak unripened plantain slices in salted water before frying them twice.
Bonnet: Typically made of satin or silk, bonnets are used to protect hair from the elements. Many people wear them to avoid the friction between their hair and their cotton pillow cases that would lead to hair breakage.
Box braids: This is a hairstyle where hair extensions are braided with one’s hair. The term box refers to the square shape of the parting for each braid.
Cornrows: This braided hairstyle can be traced back to 3000 BC “in the Horn and West coasts of Africa.” They were often used to communicate information like marital status or religion. During the slave trade, they were sometimes used strategically to illustrate escape routes. In some cases, they were used as a place to hide seeds that could be used to plant food to survive after they escaped. Today, they function as a common protective style with a rich history in Black communities.
Faux locs: This is a hairstyle that imitates the look of locs with hair extensions. Locs (sometimes known as dreadlocks) are a hairstyle where sections of hair are matted together to “create a rope-like appearance.” The word locs tends to be preferred over dreadlocks because the term is believed to originate from slave owners calling the hair of enslaved people “dreadful” when it matted after months on ships.
Relaxer: This is a chemical treatment that permanently straightens curly hair. Relaxers have been fluctuating in and out of style in Black communities since the 1940s. There has been research coming out about the health risks related to wearing relaxers.
Soup joumou: Blended calabaza squash and Haitian epis (a blended seasoning paste made with garlic, scallions, thyme, and parsley) serve as a base for this iconic soup. It is then customary to add ingredients like potatoes, cabbage, beef, pasta, and leeks.
