28 Days of Black Joy: Durags

If you thought “don’t touch my hair” only applied to Black women, you’re sadly mistaken.

Every nap shall bow and every wave brush shall confess that a Black man’s durag is his first true love. Most people will say it was their moms, but SPOILER ALERT: That’s a Joe Jackson lie. From the first time you strolled your Black ass into Sally’s, walked past the barrettes, and cried tears of joy as you fell to your knees, it was love at first sight. You just knew your life would never be the same again the first time you saw those creases on your forehead as your waves Swag Surfed in the mirror.

In the immortal words of Thundercat, “Baby girl, do you like me in my durag?”

As the secret weapon of fuck boys everywhere, rumor has it that durags were solely responsible for the Light Skinned Renaissance that extinguished Aaron Hall’s career. Even fitted hats woke up to an eviction notice when 50 Cent ushered in a new era of coordinating durags to match your girl’s purse or your favorite Phat Farm polo. A staple of MySpace Top 8’s everywhere, its natural habitat is soaked in coconut oil while peacefully destroying what’s left of your pillows.

Black women and girls might wield Black Girl Magic, but never forget that our unlimited reserves of Black Boy Joy come from the velvet, satin, or polyester mesh doing the Lord’s work as we count sheep. Rumors persist that should you forsake your durag, you’ll lose your superpowers, but who’s stupid enough to ever do something like that and find out?

From Stevie Wonder to Sammy Davis Jr. and every Black man and child before them and beyond, shoutout to durags for continuing to serve as essential workers throughout this COVID-19 pandemic, all while keeping us fresh while the Feds watching.

Hallowed be thy name.