“I like it big,” she says.
“Better get a different boyfriend, then,” says Charlie. He waggles his eyebrows to make sure we all get his innuendo. I’m surprised he doesn’t follow it up with a hand gesture just to be absolutely clear. My surprise doesn’t last, because he holds his thumb and forefinger apart by an inch.
“Good joke, Charlie,” I say. “Yes, my penis is only an inch long.” I don’t bother to look at my father’s face.
Natasha turns to me and her mouth actually drops open. She’s definitely reconsidering her recent life choices. I practically fling the pouch at my father. Things cannot get any worse, so I reach for her hand despite the fact that my father is standing right there. Mercifully, she lets me take it.
“Thank you, come again,” booms Charlie when we’re almost out the door. He’s like a pig in shit. Or just the shit.
I flip him off and ignore the vast disapproval coming from my father, because there’ll be time for that later.
I’M LAUGHING EVEN THOUGH I know I shouldn’t. That was the most perfectly awful experience. Poor Daniel.
Observable Fact: Families are the worst.
We’re almost all the way back to the subway station before he finally stops tugging me along. He slaps a palm against the back of his neck and hangs his head.
“I’m sorry,” he says, so quietly that I more lip-read it than hear it.
I’m trying to keep my laughter suppressed, because he looks like someone died, but I’m having a hard time. The image of his dad trying to shove the tub of relaxer at me rises in my mind and the laughter just bubbles out of me. Once I start, I can’t stop. I clutch my stomach as hysterics take me over. Daniel just stares at me. His frown is so deep it might become permanent.
“That was terrible,” I say, finally calm. “I don’t think that could’ve gone any worse. Racist dad. Racist and sexist older brother.”
Daniel rubs the spot on his neck and frowns some more.
“And the store! I mean, the ancient posters of those women, and your dad critiquing my hair, and your brother making a small penis joke.”
By the time I’m done listing all the things that were awful, I’m laughing again. It takes him a few more seconds, but finally he smiles too, and I’m glad for it.
“I’m glad you think this is funny,” he says.
“Come on,” I say. “Tragedy is funny.”
“Are we in a tragedy?” he asks, smiling broadly now.
“Of course. Isn’t that what life is? We all die at the end.”
“I guess so,” he says. He steps closer, takes my hand, and places it on his chest.
I study my nails. I study my cuticles. Anything to avoid looking up into those brown eyes of his. His heart thrums beneath my fingers.
Finally I look up and he covers my hand with his.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry about my family.”
I nod, because the feel of his heartbeat is doing funny things to my vocal cords.
“I’m sorry about everything, about the whole history of the world and all its racism and the unfairness of all of it.”
“What are you even saying? It’s not your fault. You can’t apologize for racism.”
“I can and I do.”
Jesus. Save me from the nice and sincere boys who feel things too deeply. I still think what happened is funny in its perfect awfulness, but I understand his shame too. It’s hard to come from someplace or someone you’re not proud of.
“You’re not your dad,” I say, but he doesn’t believe me. I understand his fear. Who are we if not a product of our parents and their histories?
DANIEL’S FAMILY DID NOT ENTER the black hair care business by chance. When Dae Hyun and Min Soo moved to New York City, there was an entire community of fellow South Korean immigrants waiting to help them. Dae Hyun’s cousin gave them a loan and advised them to open a black hair care store. His cousin had a similar store, as did many other immigrants in his new community. The stores were thriving.
The dominance of South Koreans in the black hair care industry also did not happen by chance. It began in the 1960s with the rise in popularity of wigs made with South Korean hair in the African American community. The wigs were so popular that the South Korean government banned the export of raw hair from its shores. This ensured that wigs featuring South Korean hair could only be made in South Korea. At the same time, the U.S. government banned the import of wigs that contained hair from China. Those two actions effectively solidified the dominance of South Korea in the wig market. The wig business naturally evolved to the more general black hair care business.
It’s estimated that South Korean businesses control between sixty and eighty percent of that market, including distribution, retail, and, increasingly, manufacturing. Be it for cultural reasons or for racial ones, this dominance in distribution makes it nearly impossible for any other group to gain a foothold in the industry. South Korean distributors primarily distribute to South Korean retailers, effectively shutting everyone else out of the market.
Dae Hyun is not aware of any of this history. What he knows is this: America is the land of opportunity. His children will have more than he once did.
I WANT TO THANK HER for not hating me. After that experience in my parents’ store, who could blame her? Also, she didn’t need to react to my family as peacefully as she did. If she’d yelled at both my brother and my dad, I would’ve understood. It’s a miracle (water-into-wine variety) that she’s still willing to hang out with me, and I’m more than grateful for it.