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Arts and Culture

Rooted in Tradition: The Intricate History of Black Hair Braiding

Braids are a multicultural hair fashion. Braiding has been identified in Africa, Greece, Italy and Egypt dating as far back as 2000 BC. Along with the many cultures, there are many types of braids including Micro braids, goddess braids, Ghana braids, snake, mohawk, Dutch, French, halo, fishtail, waterfall and so on. There appears to be as many types of braids as there are types of hair. African American braids hold a rich and significant history that goes beyond mere aesthetics, deeply rooted in culture, tradition, and resilience.

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Portrait of Ethiopian Emperor Yohannes IV. Public Domain.
Portrait of Ethiopian Emperor Yohannes IV. Public Domain.

By Tamara Shiloh

Braids are a multicultural hair fashion. Braiding has been identified in Africa, Greece, Italy and Egypt dating as far back as 2000 BC. Along with the many cultures, there are many types of braids including Micro braids, goddess braids, Ghana braids, snake, mohawk, Dutch, French, halo, fishtail, waterfall and so on. There appears to be as many types of braids as there are types of hair.

African American braids hold a rich and significant history that goes beyond mere aesthetics, deeply rooted in culture, tradition, and resilience. These intricate styles, which have adorned the heads of African people for centuries, carry with them stories of identity, resistance, and cultural pride.

The history of braiding dates back thousands of years to ancient Africa, with evidence of complex braiding found in ancient Egyptian artifacts dating as far back as 3500 BCE. Braiding was more than a hairstyle in many African societies, serving to classify its practitioners, too. Different styles could communicate a person’s age, marital status, wealth and tribe. The Himba of Namibia are masters of elaborate braiding, employed to denote stages of a woman’s life.

The early Africans put to good use their ancient knowledge of coded languages against their masters. One of such means was through the multifaceted African black hair. It was in this time that the cornrows patterns on Afro hair became more complex. Communications between slaves were restricted but the braids and cornrows they wore could send the necessary messages where needed. These included locations to meet, thoughts, and responses.

African women would braid rice and other grains into their hair, or their children’s hair, to ensure they had food during the Middle Passage, the 80-day journey that transported enslaved Africans across the Atlantic to America. This practice was called cornrows and involved hiding other seeds and grains, such as okra, peanuts, benne, and watermelon. The women would braid these items into their hair before traveling, or before separating children between plantations.

Enslaved Africans also used braiding to maintain a sense of community and to pass on traditions and knowledge through generations.

Braids are not just a style; this craft is a form of art. Women and men of all ages are getting their hair braided on a day-to-day basis casually or for an elegant event. The art of hair braiding has evolved beyond the original cultural purposes.

From ancient African societies to contemporary fashion runways, braids have remained a powerful symbol of identity and resistance. As we continue to celebrate and honor these intricate styles, it is crucial to remember and respect their rich historical and cultural significance.

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Alameda County

Lower Bottom Playaz Presents Lee Blessing’s ‘Going to St. Ives’

Played by Dr. ayodele nzinga, May N’Kame, the mother of a deadly African dictator, travels to England to see Dr. Cora Gage (Teresa Foss) about medical treatment for her failing eyesight. But what she really wants is a poison to assassinate her son. Gage is then put in a personal dilemma to either uphold her vow to ‘do no harm,’ or help put an end to the atrocities the dictator visits on his people.

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Oakland’s oldest North American African theater company presents a story of race, women, violence, and empire.

By Cat Brooks, Special to The Post

The Lower Bottom Playaz 27th season will kick off on July 9 with “Going to St. Ives,” a play by Lee Blessing.

Directed by playwright, actress, and community advocate Cat Brooks, the play by Lee Blessing is the story of two impressive women brought together by the personal and divided by the political, as both seek to accomplish the greatest good.

Played by Dr. ayodele nzinga, May N’Kame, the mother of a deadly African dictator, travels to England to see Dr. Cora Gage (Teresa Foss) about medical treatment for her failing eyesight. But what she really wants is a poison to assassinate her son. Gage is then put in a personal dilemma to either uphold her vow to ‘do no harm,’ or help put an end to the atrocities the dictator visits on his people.

“While the Empire’s location is fictional, a very real genocide is happening in the Congo right now that many of us are ignoring,” Brooks observed. “We set this play there in hopes of utilizing theater to make audiences aware of injustices moving in places and amongst people that mainstream media omits from its headlines.

“In these times, it is more important than ever that theater do more than just entertain. It must tell tales that ignite us into action.”

Also explored in Going to St. Ives are themes of motherhood and sacrifice. What does it cost mothers to raise sons only to lose them to the violence of the world? What experiences are shared amongst mothers across race, class, and country?

“Going to St. Ives examines the weight of privilege against the cost of ‘being responsible’ in a world carved by colonialism, greed, and loss in a high-stakes chess game between two women with only one thing in common,” said nzinga who is also the artistic director of Lower Bottom Playaz.

The play was first performed in 1997 in Seattle, eventually enjoying a highly praised off-Broadway run in New York in 2005.

For this production, Lower Bottom Playaz is partnering with non-government organizations that focus on raising awareness and providing support to displaced refugees across the diaspora, emphasizing community solidarity and collective action.

“Going to St. Ives” premieres on July 9 at BAM House in the Sister Thea Theater, 1540 Broadway, Oakland, CA 94612. All performances are scheduled through July 26 on Friday and Saturday at 8 p.m. and matinees on Saturday and Sunday at 2 p.m. For tickets and more information, please visit http://www.lowerbottomplayaz.com/. Reservations: 510 332-1319, leave a message.

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Activism

‘The Oakland Street Academy Saved My Life’

The first time a teacher pulled up a chair to sit next to me to help me out, I panicked because no adult had ever sat so close to me in any kind of a caring or helping way. My English teacher, Kitty (Epstein), would make the biggest impact in my life. I didn’t know then what it meant to have a teacher who would care about me enough to spend her precious time with me even through all of my frustration about learning and thinking the whole time I couldn’t learn anything because I thought I was stupid.

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Mural at the Emiliano Zapata Oakland Street Academy, an alternative high school in the Oakland Unified School District, located at 417 29th St. in Oakland. Phone: (510) 874-3630.
Mural at the Emiliano Zapata Oakland Street Academy, an alternative high school in the Oakland Unified School District, located at 417 29th St. in Oakland. Phone: (510) 874-3630.

By Ze Segundo, Special to The Post

This is an autobiographical statement by a former Street Academy student who overcame many obstacles in the1970s, attended S.F. State University, and built a successful life for herself.

I was born and raised in Oakland, living in a household with a single mother and eight children. My life was chaotic: I never felt loved, never hearing the words, “I love you.”

I was 4 years old when all of us were sent to foster homes. There, my little sister and I were tortured. I believe we were there a little over a year.

When we finally returned home to our mother, she had a new husband who was very abusive to all of us including my mother.

I and my other sisters were sexually abused by two uncles and my big brother. I remember my uncle choking me and telling me if I told anyone, he would kill me and my little brother – so I didn’t tell. I was terrified of him. I tried to stay away from him as much as possible, but that’s kind of hard to do when a sexual predator lives with you.

My mother would have parties on the weekends where there would be many people drinking and fighting. The police were often at my home. I hated Sunday mornings because my mother would make us kids clean up after the parties. The house had the stench of cigarettes and booze.

Having to clean up other people’s vomit made me sick to my stomach. This is when I started to drink myself. Taking sips of leftover alcohol in glasses and beer cans. That would be the start of my alcoholism.

I started cutting myself when I was 11 years old and didn’t know why. I think it was because it made me feel something different and somehow made whatever I was feeling go away for the moment.

I didn’t have many friends and didn’t have any social skills. I was very shy and withdrawn. In my early teen I couldn’t look people in the eyes. If I was walking down the street and someone was walking towards me, I would purposely cross the street, so I didn’t have to have contact with them.

I was terrified of the world around me. I didn’t even talk to my mother much because I didn’t know what kind of mood she would be in. I learned to stay silent and stay away from her.

My grandmother lived in Hayward; my sister, brother and I took a bus from Oakland to attend junior high school there. Because I didn’t have any social skills, the kids would tease me and bully me. I had to fight a lot, so much that my brother and I were kicked out; they didn’t want any of us in their schools.

After we were kicked out of the school district, I tried to attend a junior high in Oakland, but the noise in the classroom overwhelmed me. The sounds rumbled in my ears.

Again, I was bullied and teased. So, I stopped going to school. I would leave the house with my brothers and sisters but didn’t set foot into any classroom after that. I just wandered the streets until it was time to go home.

It was a very chaotic home life, and I was a severely abused child, overwhelmed with everything around me.

When I was 15, a social worker talked to my mother about sending me to Oakland Street Academy. My mother thought it was a continuation school, where the worst students went.

I didn’t want to go to Street Academy, fearful of being bullied again, but I was tired of hanging out in the street all day. I thought the Street Academy was strange, a school that took over an old furniture store building. It was an open floor plan with partitions that sectioned off classes.

During class, we could hear the buses go by and people talking as they were walking by. I was still painfully shy and withdrawn. I would show up to school early, so I didn’t have to walk past other students in the classroom. I didn’t speak to any students and barely spoke to the teachers. Even when class was going on, I would sit across the room in a small chair and table between two lockers.

I isolated myself from the rest of the class, not really knowing why, but that’s where I sat. I had a third-grade reading level at age 15 and couldn’t spell much at all.

The first time a teacher pulled up a chair to sit next to me to help me out, I panicked because no adult had ever sat so close to me in any kind of a caring or helping way. My English teacher, Kitty (Epstein), would make the biggest impact in my life. I didn’t know then what it meant to have a teacher who would care about me enough to spend her precious time with me even through all of my frustration about learning and thinking the whole time I couldn’t learn anything because I thought I was stupid.

Kitty told me that I could learn, and that there were no stupid students. I remember one time a small group of students walked to fast food restaurants just to read the menu because reading anything is better than reading nothing at all.

Kitty didn’t give up on me – so, I didn’t give up on myself.

School was difficult for me because so many things were going on at home. It was hard for me to focus, but the teachers were really patient with me. Street Academy empowered students by teaching Chicano studies and Black studies. We were learning about our own histories and cultures. Street Academy students participated in demonstrations like the United Farm Workers grape boycott of the mid-1970s. We learned that we could make a difference with our voices. It was a great self-esteem builder.

In many ways, Street Academy saved my life because I was going nowhere.
The minute I set foot into that school I knew it was something special. It took me four years to graduate because I was so far behind in my schooling, and I was dyslexic.

When I left Street Academy, I was reading college material and attended San Francisco State University. I was the first in my family to graduate high school and the first to go to college. As a 15-year-old with CPTSD (Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder), I accomplished what I thought would never happen to me.

I am grateful to the school’s staff and what Street Academy stands for. Schools and teachers should treat students like human beings, care about them, spend a little extra time, believe in them, and they will believe in themselves because you never know what students are going through and what they have experienced in their past that affects their learning.

There are no stupid kids, bad kids, or lazy kids, only kids who need to be understood and loved. Street Academy gave all of that to me.

During the 1970s, Ze Segundo attended the Oakland Street Academy, an Oakland Unified School District school now known as Emiliano Zapata Street Academy located at 417 29th St. in Oakland.

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Arts and Culture

Prescott Circus Theatre Presents Free Summer Performance Series

Now in its 41st year, the Prescott Circus Theatre is a nationally recognized performing arts education program for Oakland youth. The circus offers safe environments that challenge Oakland youth, through circus arts training, to develop the skills and confidence to thrive on stage, in school, and in life.

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Prescott Circus showcase pathways pyramid. Photo courtesy of Prescott Circus.
Prescott Circus showcase pathways pyramid. Photo courtesy of Prescott Circus.

By Post Staff

The Prescott Circus, Oakland’s longest-running youth circus, is returning this summer with its free shows. Join the Prescott Circus’s young stars as they share their joys and talents through stilt-dancing, tumbling, juggling, and more.

At the heart of this one-hour show, which demonstrates teamwork, pride, and joy, are Oakland Unified School District students ages 8 – 17 from more than 10 different schools

Now in its 41st year, the Prescott Circus Theatre is a nationally recognized performing arts education program for Oakland youth. The circus offers safe environments that challenge Oakland youth, through circus arts training, to develop the skills and confidence to thrive on stage, in school, and in life.

This is accomplished through no-cost school and community programs for more than 300 Oakland youth each year. Performing company members from Prescott, where the program began, perform and make appearances at as many as 40 Bay Area events each year.

The summer program is funded in part by Oakland Fund for Children and Youth, California Arts Council, Port of Oakland, and the West Davis & Bergard Foundation.

Performances will be held Tuesday, July 14, 11 a.m. and 1:30 p.m. (ASL interpreted) and Wednesday, July 15, 11 a.m., at the Malonga Casquelourd Center for the Arts, 1428 Alice St., Oakland. For free reservations go to

https://PrescottCircusSummerShows.eventbrite.com

For group reservations for camps, childcare centers, senior centers, go to www.prescottcircus.org

A community show will be held Saturday, July 18, 2 p.m. to 3 p.m., at DeFremery Park,1651 Adeline St., Oakland.

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