An extreme case of prison bedhead
I blame the state of my brother's hair on his tablet.
I try not to duplicate newsletters on my Substacks, but I just got back from Norway and had a hectic week of work, so I’ve decided it’s okay to break the rules. (Apologies if you subscribe to both and are getting the same newsletter in your inbox! Check out Stories About My Bro to see different photos.)
When Isaac first went to prison, he stopped cutting his hair.
Before he was locked up, he had the typical 20-something style of an Asian dude’s hair, buzzed short on the sides and longer on the top. Sort of like a flat top, but not as serious as someone going into the army. I always thought my brother had great hair—soft and lots of it (a blessing for a man).
The shape of his head
I think a big part of the reason why his hair always looked great was because his head shape is perfectly oval. And unlike some Asian guys, it’s not flat in the back.
I attribute this to my mom. After he was born, she made it a point to put him in all kinds of sleeping positions that would yield a very 3-D evenly-shaped head.
As a kid, I thought it was crazy that mothers played the role of a head-shaping God. She rotated him a lot. Sometimes he’d be on his back with his tiny arms raised up by his head. Then the next time he napped she put him on his stomach to shape the sides of his head. She made sure to balance out how long his head faced the left side with the right.
When his head was perfectly oval, my mom took baby Isaac to the barber and cut off all of the wispy, feathery locks on his head. I remember seeing him afterward and feeling horrified, but she ensured me his hair would grow back thicker and more evenly. She was right.
As an adult, his head shape served as the foundation for all kinds of ‘dos. He shaved his head multiple times and even though his ears are gigantic, he still looked good—like a bald head suited him.
In junior high, he had a shaved head but left a few long strands in the front that reached his chin when he pulled on it. The bangs were dyed blonde. It was his K-Pop/gangster look.
Prison hair
Three years into life behind bars, Isaac’s hair grew longer than ever, and for the first time in his life, went past his neck and shoulders. He started tying it into a small ponytail. When it reached the middle of his back, he tied it multiple times because his hair was like thick strands of rope—he takes after my mom.
I had no idea what was happening with Isaac’s hair until my mom told me. When she first went to see him at Kern Valley, she was shocked to see him rail thin, white as a ghost, and hair that went down his back.
She marveled at how much hair he had and repeatedly told me it was so black it looked nearly blue. Who has hair that black, she wondered aloud.
Seeing him for the first time in prison
I thought Isaac looked like a mix between a Fu Manchu character (without the long mustache) and a yoga instructor.
I asked him why he let his hair grow so long and I thought he was going to tell me he was doing it as a form of rebellion or to mark the passing of time. Instead, it had to do with practicality. He replied, “I was tired of cutting it because they don’t give you good clippers in here.” Obviously, scissors or razors aren’t allowed, so he had to revert to using crappy clippers.
While I sat next to him in the visiting room, I couldn’t take my eyes off his ponytail. It was exactly as my mom had described it—thick and midnight black.
A few months later, he told me he was done with long hair. It was too hard to comb and he always ended up using too much of his precious shampoo.
On my next visit, I saw his shorter ‘do, but just like when it was long, I couldn’t stop staring at his head. It looked like he cut his hair with a steak knife. His hair looked like shag carpet taped over his head—it was all matted down and pointing in different directions. It was jagged at the ends and totally uneven. The cowlick in the back of his head stood straight up.
During the visit, the first thing my mom did was touch his hair. She basically asked WTF happened. I wanted to say, It’s prison, Mom, that’s what happened.
Prison tablet
Besides dull clippers and my brother’s unskillful hand at being his own barber, I realized a big reason why his hair looks like that is because of his tablet. Ever since he got it two months ago, he stopped going to the yard and just lays around in his cell, glued to the screen. I picture him laying on one side, then shifting to the other—unknowingly creating a semi-permanent version of prison bedhead.
On the one hand, these tablets are a helpful tool to communicate plus a form of entertainment, and I appreciate that it makes life somewhat easier for Isaac and other incarcerated people. (Here’s an article from Prison Journalism Project in which an incarcerated writer talks about the pros and cons.)
On the other hand, I can’t help but think the tablet is also causing harm. Why go to the yard for fresh air and exercise when you could be watching “Black Adam,” watching the news, or making phone calls? Isaac told me that he stopped working out in the yard because what’s the point? His words, not mine.
He told me he felt like he could “breathe” again after getting his tablet. So, I guess I’m grateful for that. There are also ebooks and other educational materials he has access to on the tablet, which I know he has yet to explore. But at least it’s there in case he ever decides he wants to learn something new.
After the visit, my mom and I continued talking about his hair and how we thought it looked… er, unique. We couldn’t help but see the humor in his new, “tablet ‘do” and we both laughed.
We reminisced about his toddler days when his hair used to stick straight up. I wondered what his hair would look like the next time we visit.
Read on…
