"Can I touch your hair?"

Saturday, May 1

Today was amazing. Touch, as a part of SPACE, helped me discover several things. I was reminded how liberating it is to make art in public, how fun and uplifting it is to connect with people via the unusual, the spectacle, but also the challenge of convincing them to participate.

I came up with the idea for Touch because strangers often touch my hair without asking. I wanted to try and understand what the compulsion is about by asking strangers if I could touch their hair, let them touch mine, and create a ritual washing of hands before the act in order to make the touching of hair a sacred act that requires both permission and preparation.

I loved how people reacted to the project – so supportive and enthusiastic. I'd say of the people we asked, two-thirds said yes. The ones who said no responded with quizzical disinterest for the most part – the worst response was a large group who ignored me, except for one teenaged girl.

But no matter. The curious yeses drowned out any negativity, and my son's presence lightened the mood. I'd hired him to be my assistant, holding the glass bowl while I poured clear water for us to rinse the sand from our hands before any hair touching occurred. He ended up joining in between his running escapes into the sea ("Hey Mom, here's your bowl – I'll be back after my swim!"), foraging for snacks in the cooler and dodging the hungry seagulls who honed in on his bag of Cheetos.

But I digress. There's so much to tell. Here are some highlights.

Several women's self-consciousness about their hair and their general appearance surprised me. We heard many protests that their bodies were not suited for photographing, even that their hair was not worth touching. Nikki Devereux, the fabulous photographer who documented Touch, and I kept reassuring them that they were beautiful exactly as they were.

And with reservations set aside, we all laughed at the strangeness of touching hair, and the sheer child-like sensation of discovery. Testing physical boundaries in this way felt like transgression at its most transformative, because of the way we framed it. Instead of the piece being about discomfort, it became a way of celebrating the differences in our hair, validating each other's beauty, and sharing in a moment of affirmation.

A memorable image: of all the people we encountered, a woman with tattoos on both hands and elaborately painted Flo-Jo type nails spent the most time rinsing her hands in the water. She fully cleaned her palms, fingers, nails and the back of her hands. I can't wait for that photo.

Finally, I will just say that it plain felt good to see how people responded to the touching of my hair. They marveled at how soft it is, asked how it got that way, if it's real, what did I put it in it, etc. A hairdresser even took a photo of my hair with her iPhone to take back to her salon. It was almost like conducting a live PSA for natural hair.

And it wasn't just one on one. We had three-, four- and five-way hair touchings – but no, wasn't risqué at all! It was pure, FUN, social engagement, full of laughter. In the span of a few minutes, strangers learned something about each other, about themselves, shared publicly and understood privately.

I'm so grateful for the openness of the people we met. Pictures are forthcoming!

Khadijah Queen