Great Grandma, Mamol, and Mama Wore Wigs

There are photos of my mother's grandmother in a wig. She was a church-going older woman who eventually succumbed to diabetes. I have no idea how long she had worn wigs, I just know she did. I never saw her real hair; and quite frankly, I was too young to even remember how she truly looked when she passed. I just have those snatches of images. You know the frame work of a big woman, a bossy woman, a woman who did not go out in public looking "any old kinda" way. A chestnut brown woman with those big and small moles that arise from aging. A focused on "what she wanted" kinda woman. I remember a lot of white dresses and missing legs... the smell of liniment and direction-giving. At least I think she was missing legs. My mother's grandmother on her father's side had diabetes, too. I remember for sure that she was missing legs, and that she also wore a wig. These black women wore wigs, pressed their hair, braided their hair, and hid their hair under wraps. I am sure they also at some time or another, these same women, let their hair down, let it kink up, took sissors to it, or just gave up on it. It struck me today that I wanted to think about what generational time structures kept confined those little ladies in the paradoxical apparatus that was "atop their heads," atop their own natural hair. My grandmother was born in 1920. Her mother was born in the late 1800's. My mother was born in 1944. Seemingly every 20 years or so, a generation of little black ladies passed on the cultural wearing of wigs to us in Waco. I was born in 1969, but I have never worn a wig unless it was for a play, film, or costume party. The closest I came to the act was braid extentions. Braiding in longer synthetic or natural hair to hid the length of my hair, but not necessaryily the hair itself was my variation on the theme I guess. My mother wore wigs when we were children. She had three of four of those styrofoam heads with bobby pins and place combs, and netting and all. She was a licensed beautician. The heads sat upon her dresser for many years, coursing in and out of different 70's inspired wig styles. I was more interested in playing outdoors, but I notice them there-, the wigs, partial wigs and other hair pieces. My mother still throws a wig on or hair piece in, even now that both her daughters have locs. She also still presses and curls. I think it makes her even more hell-bent on her wigs to see our carefree lifestyles. She likes to say, "Babydoll, I like what I have," and if we press her to change, she says, "no, no, no, no, no," and that's that. Why she clings to the wig, hair pieces, and press and curl is beyond me, but cling she must. I am talking specifically about my mother; my intent is not to disparage the wig, press and curl, or any other choice of hair style. Whatever you like, go with it. Please!!! I believe eventually she will resort to wearing the wig full time when out "in public." Our family has a history of slight hair recession and loss, especially around the forehead and temple. Right now I am beginning to see the recession around my temples. I have a triangular area on both sides of my forehead near the temple where it is just "hair too short to tussle with." I am not ecstatic about it, but I am about to hit my 40's, and these things are a part of aging. So, I can see Mama wearing her wigs more often as she approaches her mid to late 60's and the "in your face" realities of aging. My grandmother's hair was a soft and silver-white by the time she was in her 60's. She passed away at 67 of alzheimer's with that pretty lengthy hair of hers that was long on the top and at the sides, but noticeable shorter at the back nap and the temple area. Mama's hair is soft like her mother's hair, too. Her hair is also thinning at the temples and "kitchen." However, Mama will dye her hair until the day she dies (Ms. Clairol is recession proof). There will be no gray hair for her at all. And with that reality, I know the thinning hair pattern has been handed down to me. I wonder if in the future, if I live to be 67 or 87 or older, if there will be a season for me to share in what the women in my immediate past experienced, the wig. Blessings~