At the Barber Shop

My man Darios just opened up his own shop called District Cutters that's located behind the new cigar joint on Florida, I met him when we was cutting at Mason's down on H St. The place is small, only three chairs, but newly finished so it's super comfortable and clean.

I recognize the other barber that was there from Mason's but I don't know his name, it turns out that this other barber, Darios, and the dude waiting with me for a cut are all from Boston. It was interesting to hear these cats old-timing about Boston; talking about the bus routes they used to take and getting chased out of Cambridge by the brothers that lived there. For all the hue and cry about young Black men and how everyone is so afraid of them, the real truth is that they're much more of a danger to each other than they are to everyone else. I say "they" because me and the other bros at the barbershop yesterday are all in our mid to late 30's, we are (for the most part) out of the danger zone; we have been lucky and/or smart enough to make it past the years when an error in judgment was more likely to be fatal or land us in jail.

All the years that I was cutting my own hair I forgot the sense of spiritual renewal that I tend to get from going to the barber shop. I know that sounds kind of corny, but there's really nothing quite like it. Where else can you go where you will find preachers, teachers, thugs, cops, executives, janitors, politicians, construction workers, etc. all existing in perfect harmony? The barber shop is neutral ground, everyone leaves their bullshit at the door and is free to speak their mind. Sometimes that freedom to speak your mind leads people to say some unbelievably stupid things, like the time these guys were speculating that all White people were pre-disposed towards bestiality. I probably should have said something to the contrary, but I was laughing too hard at the ridiculous anecdotes being related to make any kind of strong argument. Still, just listening that day gave me some interesting insight into how whack stereotypes come into being.

There was also a dope ass classic Impala parked outside too, check it out.