Hidden Knots
By Cheryl Darby

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While looking at my bootcamp photo, I thought about all the changes I went through as an African American woman in the Navy with my hair.

There were several incidents that happened that weren’t funny then, but today I can laugh about them.

Today I will share one of them.

When you are stationed in foreign countries, there are some things you take for granted. Growing up in Cleveland, Ohio, there were always barber shops or beauty shops available not far from home where I could get a press & curl, finger waves, or a perm. I could get French braids done by my younger sister or endure my aunt braiding my hair so tight that I swore she braided my brain as well.

While being stationed in London, England, I found out that we would be wearing civilian clothes to and from work. I loved it, so I had to make sure the hair complemented my work outfits. Once I arrived, I contacted a friend who was already in London. She was able to give me a contact so I could start getting sew-ins. I knew I would like whatever style I received because her hairstyle was really nice.

I caught the Tube to my hairstylist’s flat, and after hours of sitting, my hair was complete. I was truly pleased. After making payment and thanking her several times, I got on the Tube and was on my way back to my flat.

After weeks of showcasing my new hairstyle, I decided it was time for a thorough washing. So, I jumped in the shower and then washed and massaged my hair. Once I exited the shower and styled my hair, when I looked in the mirror, I was in complete shock. What sat on top of my head looked like a knotted birds’ nest. I called my friend almost in tears. How on earth was I going to show up for duty tomorrow morning with my hair in a state of chaos?

She told me she would come over and help me get the knots out and bring a wig and head band for back up. My friend rode public transportation, so several hours later she arrived, ready to perform hair maintenance with a wig, black headband, and scissors.

The stylist had performed such a good job with the sew-in that it took my friend about an hour to find the threads to remove the weave. The black thread had blended in with my hair, and my friend told me that she couldn’t remove the middle section because she would end up cutting my hair too. So, she placed the wig on top of my head and placed the headband on the edges of my hair.

I went to look in the mirror and looked like a conehead Diana Ross from the 60’s. It was getting late, and I knew my friend had to get back to her flat. So, I had to deal with my challenge.

The next morning as I waited for the elevator door to open so I could assume the watch, I encouraged myself that I would be okay.

As soon as the elevator door opened, in the happiest tone I could utter, I said, “Good morning, and how is everyone doing?”

Then I turned my back toward the riders as I stepped inside the elevator and rode to my destination.

I believe the shock of what I looked like had many of the riders speechless.

When the elevator opened and I exited, I could hear people cracking up, laughing. I held my head up high, walked to my work location, and assumed the watch.

While writing this story, I decided to call that friend who I haven’t seen in over 30 years. I wanted to know if she remembered that day. She did remember it, and we had a good laugh, reminiscing.

She suggested that I also write about another incident that happened that wasn’t funny then, but we can laugh about now.

That story I’ll save for another time.


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Cheryl Darby is a Navy Veteran and has enjoyed her military experience. Her hobbies include writing, reading, and theater. She is a current member of New Community Bible Fellowship, where she also enjoys serving. Spending time with her children, grandchild, family, and friends adds extra joy to her life.