are you going to change your hair color?

Yesterday I made it up to U street and had a mixed experience. It is on the edge of maintaining its historical black culture and succumbing to the spread of gentrification from the Dupont Circle area. The contrast is apparent when walking up 14th street, where trendy gardening and "Urban Essentials" stand next to community-centered establishments. One such place was Pulp, which turned out to be a two storied version of Ann Arbor's Middle Earth. Kitchy cards and pope on a rope, you know the deal. After visiting a pawn shop and thrift store to look for a cheap bike (I have since given up on the idea of getting one), I sought refreshment at cafe 14U. Much like the dive bar that really isn't but tries to be, 14U is the hip cafe that really isn't but tries to be. It was irksome to see all these notes from the management encouraging patrons to keep buying stuff in order to continue using their free internet, and the decor of old books and chairs are useless functionally and aesthetically. Equally upfront about its image crafting is Busboys and Poets, which is a huge place that I did not venture into due to the bitter taste of 14U's ice tea lingering on my tongue.

Instead I went into Milla, a hip-hop influenced version of Urban Outfitters or Forever 21. I was carrying around a cool sweatshirt that I found, and one of the women working there comes up to me to say, "that will make you look hot." She immediately followed this compliment up with, "are you going to change your hair color?" I was taken aback, but quickly responded with a nervous smile, "no! This is my natural hair color!" She gave a hmmp and walked away, and I was left with growing feelings of offense. Did I just get dissed about my red hair? No you didn't! I thought to put away the sweatshirt and walk out in protest. But the consumerist in me won out, and I spent a good time after that exchange thinking of all the sassy things I could have said in defense of my hair. Advice of Jawuan: when they give it, you gotta give it back. No more of this Midwestern politeness. No one gives me shit about the color of my hair.
The sweatshirt is hot, though. Perhaps I will be able to wear it here in, I don't know, November.

I spent the evening exploring the nightlife with one of the many former ultimate frisbee friends in DC. Allison and I started off at the dive bar trying to be a dive bar, Madhatter, and went down to the Eastern Market area to the one lesbian bar in DC, Phase 1. A little less painful than girls nights of the past, but still a pretty depressing scene. We ended up in Adams-Morgan, which was insane. 18th street is a string of clubs that spill out into the street with frat, black, and tourist crowds. Cars are bumper to bumper looking for parking and showing off their rides, and the packed streets give opportunity for groping when your not even in the sleazy clubs, yet. We hid in a hookah bar after stepping into the Pharmacy, which is suppose to be the hipster club, but was filled with an older L.L.Bean crowd. What do hipsters become when they get older? Yuppies! Not a surprise.

After that circus, we went our separate ways, I did the number one thing they keep telling us not to do in this scary big city, I walked home alone. There has been so much hype built up about DC and all its bad areas and crime rate by this program, but it is just covering its ass and worrying about "urban" neighborhoods and people. The same vibe surrounded the U street area, where I was warned about going there in the day time. Of course, there is common sense and safety, and knowing your suuroundings, but if we see locals going about their business after the sun goes down, why can't we? There is a difference between being aware and and being afraid. I choose the former.