The other night I was out to watch a friend’s roller derby. Maybe that, itself, explains the odd thing I saw. But I don’t think so.
There was a little kid there, no more than 7-years-old, with a mohawk. Not a tiny faux-hawk, but a kick-ass, two-feet high, sugar-water one.
I immediately thought it was plain wrong. Then I had to ask myself why.
Sure kids become accessories for their parents. It’s sad, but true. And this child, whom I later discovered was a girl, did look like she belonged to her mom, much the same way my niece has the style her parents have deemed appropriate for her. The mohawk girl’s mom–no surprise–was clad in lots of black leather and tattoos and a somewhat shaved head.
Finally I decided it was the age, not the style that was my issue. No child should have to worry about having such coiffed hair. Imagine trying to sleep on those spikes? Or how about getting dressed or climbing on the bars at the playground? It’s as bad as the little girls you see all done-up like princesses at family functions but who can’t play and run around. Granted, that’s usually only for a day.
I think you should at least get the first ten years of your life or thereabouts without having to worry about what your hair looks like.