“Oh” the hairdresser paused “Your hair is very curly”. “Yes” I gritted my teeth, water dripping down my neck “I said it was”. The consultation earlier that week, it seemed, had meant nothing. “It’s OK” she went on “I’m sure we’ll be able to manage”. Trapped in the chair, too far in this to go back, I feigned a tight smile. “So where are you from?” She went on “You look…different…” And so it started. Questions about my heritage; questions about Africa, then of course Jamaica; “Can I tell the where people are from by their appearance?” Comments on my hair “It’s actually quite nice”, “Do I ever wear an Afro?” comments on my features “Your lips are black but your nose is more white…”…