“She asks me why I’m just a hairy guy.
I'm hairy noon and night. Hair that’s a fright.
I’m hairy high and low.
Don’t ask me why.
Don’t know.
It’s not for lack for bread.
Like The Grateful Dead.
Darlin’.
Give me a head with Hair.
Long beautiful Hair.
Shining, gleaming, streaming, flaxen, waxen.
Give me down to there Hair.
Shoulder length or longer Hair.
Here baby, there Mama.
Everywhere Daddy Daddy Hair.
Hair, Hair, Hair, Hair, Hair, Hair, Hair.
Flow it.
Show it.
Long as God can grow it my Hair.
Let it fly in the breeze and get caught in the trees.
Give a home for the fleas in my Hair.
A home for the fleas. Yeah.
A hive for the bees. Oh yeah.
A nest for the birds.
There ain’t no words for the beauty, the splendor, the wonder of my Hair.
Hair, Hair, Hair, Hair, Hair, Hair, Hair.
Flow it.
Show it.
Long as God can grow it my Hair.
I want it long, straight, curly, fuzzy.
Snaggy, shaggy, ratty, matty, oily, greasy, fleecy.
Shining, steaming, gleaming, flaxen, waxen.
Knotted, polka dotted, twisted, beaded, braided.
Powdered, flowered, and confettied.
Mangled, tangled, spangled, and spaghetti.
Oh say can you see
My eyes if you can then my Hair’s to short.
Down to here.
Down to there.
Down to where it stops by itself.
Do do do do do do do do.
They’ll be gaga at the go go when they see me in my toga.
My toga made of blond, brilliantined, Biblical Hair.
My Hair like Jesus wore it.
Halleluja I adore it.
Halleluja Mary loved her son.
Why don’t my mother love me? Hair.
Hair, Hair, Hair, Hair, Hair, Hair, Hair.
Flow it.
Show it.
Long as God can grow it my Hair.
Hair, Hair, Hair, Hair, Hair, Hair, Hair.
Flow it.
Show it.
Long as God can grow it my Hair.
Hair, Hair, Hair, Hair, Hair, Hair, Hair.
Flow it.
Show it.
Long as God can grow it my Hair.
Hair, Hair, Hair, Hair, Hair, Hair, Hair.
Flow it.
Show it.
Long as God can grow it my Hair.”
-- The song ‘Hair’ from the Broadway show, ‘Hair!’ Lyrics by James Rado and Gerome Ragni; music by Galt MacDermot
Hair. Over the past few days, the recent battle over hair at Pretoria Girls High School has triggered this writer to consider memories about hair, and the strength of its symbolism throughout history. For virtually anyone conversant with “The Bible” – either as literature or religious scripture – one of the most vivid tales in the whole corpus is that of Samson and Delilah.
Samson was the legendary strong-man-warrior of the Israelites who fell in love (and lust) with Delilah, a Philistine beauty – in midst of a decades long conflict between the two peoples. Delilah is eventually cajoled by her people’s priests into luring Samson into revealing the secret of his strength, or, as “The Book of Judges” has it, “And Delilah said to Samson: ‘Tell me, I pray thee, wherein thy great strength lieth, and wherewith thou mightest be bound to afflict thee.’” In due course, after he teases her with several false leads, he does tell her truthfully that it derives from his long, flowing long locks of hair; hair, he explains, that has not been cut since the day he was born. In a biblical example of some kinky bondage, she ties him up, cuts his hair to subdue him, and thus his strength evaporates. With that torment, he gives one last effort and pulls down the Philistines’ temple walls, crushing himself (and lots of others) in the process.
Aside from religious implications about giving in to the temptations of dangerous foreigners, this story might even be read as an ancient warning about the wiles of barbers and beauticians. And this story was the inspiration for French composer Camille Saint-Saens’ great opera that includes a stunning aria of love, lust, guile, and temptation,
class="s4">Mon coeur s’ouvre à ta voix (My heart opens to your voice). Listen to it sung by the incomparable Jessye Norman.
More broadly, besides long hair being an obvious symbol of religious piety and observance, right through to the present for many societies, scholars of ancient civilisations explain that hair has, all around the globe, frequently been an obvious demonstration of great strength and virility on the part of its bearer. Perhaps this harks right back to biological explanations that, just as with other animals, a luxuriant plumage of hair demonstrated the health and vitality suitable for yet other important purposes. And perhaps, too, given prehistoric hominins’ shedding of most of their body fur as far back as several million years ago, long hair could well have been a vivid example of what Charles Darwin first described as sexual selection for reproduction and evolution of the species.
But on a more personal basis, I also had an epiphany about hair as an important, symbolic statement and opposition to oppressing forces. Nearly 50 years ago when I had (rather involuntarily) entered the US Army, in our first day on the training base, we were marched to a base barber for our requisite, severe, military-style cuts. Coming directly into the army from a university campus of the early 1970s and all that entailed, I had secretly hoped to keep at least some of my hair and my dignity.
So, when the barber asked if I wanted one of those right-down-to-the-scalp cuts or a trim that at least left a little bit of hair (but no moustache), I immediately selected the latter, got my cut, and paid my $1.50. But as soon as we had returned to our barracks, the drill sergeant in charge of us young recruits marched anyone with even a wisp of hair left on their heads right back to that barber to finish the job – and with yet another $1.50 to be paid out. And along with that second cut, we received firm lessons in institutional hierarchy and dominance, and one’s place right at the bottom of a society – all conveyed through the symbolic nature of a simple haircut.
Living in the United States in the 1960s, the power of hair as a sign of something deeply important was almost impossible to miss. The great rock musical of the late 1960s was, after all, simply named Hair. In essence, the show focused on the last night of freedom for a young man with long hair who was about to enter the military (similarly involuntarily) and his fixation with his own hair – and that of others, as well as the problematic relationship he has with authority figures, starting from his mother, over his hirsuteness. This show came to audiences just as long hair increasingly was becoming de rigueur for both black and white young people.
