If I am shaven,
then my strength will leave me, and I shall become weak,
and be like any other man.
--Judges 16:17
Album of the
Week:
Emotional, Carl Thomas. If
you don't know, now you know.
Songs of the
Week:
"Cherchez LaGhost," Ghostface Killah. Dope, dope, dope.
"What It
Ain't," Goodie Mob w/ TLC.The
joint is speaking the truth.
Charles Oakley stared at my hair during a brief interview
I conducted back in March. When I stopped taping, he asked,
"Who braided your hair?"
"A friend of mine," I replied.
"She did a nice job."
Too bad more Americans don't share Oakley's appreciation
for the artistry of a fine set of cornrows. Hip-hop personalities
and NBA stars have showcased the many possibilities of this
quintessentially black hairstyle in recent years--often,
the 'rows of Latrell Sprewell and Allen Iverson get as much
attention as their games. Still, people base all kinds of
assumptions on the braids, usually deeming their wearers
to be thuggish. For every compliment, there's a furtive
glance from someone who's shook. On a good day, you might
even draw the unwanted attention of the ruffians in blue.
When I need my wig beautified, I drop by Toni Hill's crib.
She's hardly a hairdresser by profession. In fact, Hill's
one of Portland hip-hop's shining jewels. When she's not
rocking a show with Hungry Mob or the Chosen (or studying
for mid-terms), Miss Hill marks a few domes with her ill
signature patterns--and she knows the cultural importance
of what, to many, appears to be nothing more than a hairstyle.
"We're dealing with a history of people who want to stereotype
and want to make you think wearing braids is a negative,"
she said recently as she pulled and tugged at my scalp.
"I feel like it's a bonding experience. We are an oral culture,
so the time spent is one of talking and getting to know
one another."
Over the course of a year, I have heard, and witnessed
at times, the struggles Hill faces in her efforts to put
out a solo album in a male-dominated industry. She has the
ability to sit in the studio, listen to an instrumental
and write a song in less than an hour. But Hill hasn't found
cats able to produce the sounds she desires.
Worse, local companies have offered contracts with no executive
production credits, weak money situations and long-term
commitments. She's turned them all down. She says she wants
to work with professionals who recognize her gifts as a
singer, songwriter and producer and are dedicated to realizing
her talent, not trying to sex her up.
"Men devalue what you do," she says. "They only want you
to sing a hook and that's it. They don't realize you can
do a whole project."
Even though she says it often seems like no one is really
down to work with her as an equal, she maintains a positive
attitude.
"I wanna do my own thing," Toni said after snapping a band
on the twelfth braid. "I want to show a side of the music
I'm not able to express with other groups I work with."
It would be a detriment to us all if our only taste of
Hill's artistry comes courtesy of the designs on my head.
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Willamette Week | originally
published May 10,
2000
|
