That One Scene In Creed that Shattered My Emotions.
Black Women’s Hair and the Men who love them.
A black woman’s hair is precious to her. The world may see beautifully slicked hair, but black women see hours in a chair. The world may see perfectly braided strands of hair, but black women see eight hours on someone’s floor. The world may see a beautiful curly afro, but black women see an hour of hot oil treatment with another hour of wash and twist. Black hair is special because it takes time – we take time.
When a black woman is in a relationship, her hair comes with her. The silk scarves she wears. The hair she leaves all over the shower. The globs of product left by the sink. It’s all part of a process. Not only does she care for her hair, but she sacrifices for it. Some days she doesn’t swim. Some days she has to wear hideous hats. Some days she restricts movement to eliminate sweating out her blowout. A black woman cares for her hair so much that it is rare for her to let anyone except her trusted hairdresser and family members to place their hands on her mane. This act is so special and intimate that to being allowed to partake caring for a black woman’s hair is a great honor.
This leads me to Creed. Creed is not a movie about black hair or relationships. It is a movie about boxing. Adonis, the main character, has a dream and he pursues it. Not as a black man, but as a human— a human with a goal. Bianca, his love interest, also has a human story. Her struggles with going deaf and loving music make her multi-dimensional. Creed is special because it places a black man in a story typically told with white characters. There are no stereotypes or tropes — just life.
This life includes actions that are very normal for a black character to do. The hair piece comes in the midst of this. There are no signs or punctuation for this scene. Instead, it is placed in the midst of a very normal situation. It is the scene’s subtlety that provides its impact. In my tear-filled words I will explain how it went down:
In the previous scene, the characters are speaking with Rocky Balboa about a big fight Adonis is looking to participate in. The scene goes dark for a moment. As the watcher, I am comfortable. I do not expect anything from the scene that follows. In fact, I look away for a moment. By the time my eyes gaze at my screen, I see something so beautiful and intimate. It is not a sex scene. It is not a pre-sex scene. It is Adonis mending Bianca’s twists. The camera is angled from behind a half opened door — adding to the affection between the two characters. They are not talking about hair, they are talking about Adonis and his future. As the watcher, my heart begins to race. I start to feel something inside. My tear ducts become moist. I think of my hair. I think of how much it means to me. I realize the trust she must have in her man — to allow him to partake in the sacred ritual of mending her hair. As quickly as it comes, the scene is gone. I pause the movie for a moment. I stare at the screen. My heart continues to race. Then I whisper, “Goals.”
The relationship between Adonis and Bianca is beautiful. It is a relationship bound by a deep trust, vision, and (of course) music. If you’re a man reading this, know that this is probably one of the biggest indicators that your black woman loves you deeply. If you’re a black woman, know that if you can’t let him touch your hair — he might not be the one. If you haven’t watched Creed, you really should. Besides the very cute love story, it’s a well-done movie. A movie that will make you feel something regardless of who you are or where you coming from.
Until next time,
G.
