_(exerpted from original article)_
Let us gather now to speak of puffy hair. You know what I’m talking about. That nappy, kinky, frizzy stuff that we have straightened, pulled back, slicked down, blown dry, blow torched and hacked off. But there are some who dig their hair’s natural freakiness — those stylish souls who make the Tribe (if not their mothers) proud by kicking the fully-grown Jewfro.
This might be a stretch, but it seems to me that the proper Jewfro arises, literally, from a distinguished legacy. Think of Einstein. That whole theory of relativity was pretty cool, but without the hair, would anyone really have paid attention? Dylan’s Brillo pad was a more conscious creation, and brought the look into vogue with the macramÃ© crowd. Raise your hand if old photos of your dad show someone who could have feasibly passed for a Black Panther or Harlem Globetrotter from behind. Please, have no shame
NIKKI BORODI, 22: _I’ve always had this kind of hair. I grew up in Cleveland, and I got harassed and made fun of for my entire growing up because of it. People would be like, ‘fro!’ and ‘radiation!’ and all this crazy stuff. The neighborhood I grew up in was 90% upper-middle class Jewish and only like 10% minority, if that, with about 400 people in the high school. They were photocopies of each other. Nobody had hair like mine. Who knows if anybody at all in Cleveland, Ohio has hair like mine? It was strange. I always felt very self-conscious about it. And now I’m at a point where I love it and I wouldn’t give it up for anything_.