After college where I earned a B.F.A Theatre Performance degree from the University of Michigan, I went to The School for Film and Television in New York City. My scene study teacher helped us to see how casting directors saw us, what types we should play and submit to. We all wanted to know this because we weren’t getting cast in the roles we wanted or weren’t getting cast enough period.
He went around the room telling everyone their types simply from their looks. For me he said the role I would play would be a cop, an NYPD cop, definitely not a model. He actually said, “Definitely not a model.”!! I was so hurt and confused. I never thought of myself as tough or that people viewed me as an NYPD cop and not beautiful. I was 22/23 and I thought I had potential to be pretty. I looked to my teacher for advice and guidance and he told me that I was not pretty enough for TV or to be seen as a pretty role on TV. True, I was not especially curvy, I didn’t know how to do fancy makeup and wasn’t that stylish, but I was slim, and not short. Everyone else in the class was given more flattering stereotypes to play and I wondered why I wasn’t. I concluded that I didn’t like the teacher; he was prejudiced against me and I needed to do something different with my hair.
Growing up I wore my hair in braids every day from age 4 to 13 because 1) I had really thick hair and 2) I wanted to look neat in school and fit in like the other kids. Being a light-skinned African American girl the only way others could tell that I was black was my hair.
They would say that I had kinky hair and if I ever wore my hair down my classmates (the boys) would make fun of me.
My hair was my struggle for most of my childhood. On the weekends other kids played in sports and participated in extracurriculars, but for me I had to pick one day, Saturday or Sunday to wash my hair. Normally, I picked Saturday so that I could have a full day to relax before school the next day. I was allowed to watch one cartoon and then for the next 6 hours I washed my hair and my mother dried and braided my hair. Yes, that’s right, every weekend it took 5 1/2 to 6 hours to dry and de-tangle my hair and put it back into neat braids. During that time, I always wished that I could be playing with friends, playing in sports, relaxing watching TV, or outside playing in nature. After hours of having my hair yanked and pulled tightly with a brissle brush, doused with water, and my skin burned from the hair dryer, my head and neck were sore and I was exhausted and just wanted to sleep.
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