By: Simone Castello

Simone Castello in Seoul, South Korea with two adorable HAECHI - mascots of Seoul.

I’m not quite sure what my thought process was when I decided to pack up my life and move to a continent that’s notoriously unfriendly towards curly tops.

It was the first thing I noticed when I stepped off the plane at Seoul’s international airport. I was standing as a lone warrior with my curls, caught in a world where everyone preferred straight – straight lines, straight bodies and straight hair.

An 18-hour flight had done nothing to calm the frizzy mop that sat atop my head, and, with each stressful situation I encountered on my global trip, that frizz just frizzified some more.

I didn’t by any means imagine that I’d have it easy when I moved here. It was difficult enough trying to maintain and tame the coiling locks that had a power and mind of their very own, when I lived in North America. And I knew I was headed for deep trouble as soon as I saw a representative from my new job at the pick-up desk.

“Wow… you have much hair!” he exclaimed, as his eyes darted around my face, without making eye-contact. He was looking from one curl to the next, and then to the tuft of frizz that pressed against my sweaty cheek (I had fallen asleep right before we landed).

“Where are you from? You must be Egyptian? Iraqi?”

I didn’t understand what this man’s deal was. We had barely met, had barely said hello, and here he was, quizzing me about my hair? But I pulled myself together, adjusted the bags on my shoulders, and responded with my own set of questions. “I’m Simone? From Canada? I’ll be working with you for a year?”

He snapped out of his trance-like state and smiled. “Oh! Yes, Simone. I was just watching your hair.”

“Yes, I know,” I said. I suppose the exhaustion had taken over at this point.

Little did I realize, however, that this would not be the last of these conversations I’d have in Korea, as far as my hair was concerned. Everywhere I went people stared. I’m sure part of it had to do with the colour of my skin, but a great deal of it had to do with the loose curls that fluttered around my face, rather than hang down around my shoulders. I was an anomaly in a country that’s pretty homogeneous as far as looks were concerned.

Now, under normal circumstances, being an anomaly is amazing. You stand out in a crowd, and people notice you for it. The reasons may not always be good or right, but when you’re acknowledged, you’re getting attention… and that’s always a good thing.

Not in my case. Korea, in it’s mix of traditional values and desire to emulate all that’s western, somehow missed the memo on the existence of curly tops. Aside from obtaining curly hair through perm processes, the notion that someone could actually be born with it, seemed as foreign as an African safari.

Everyone from my friends to co-workers questioned me about the maintenance of the mop…. “How often do you wash it?”… “Is it real?”…”Aren’t you hot?”… “Can I touch it?” they’d ask.

I was flabbergasted. I mean, I’d had my share of questions back in Toronto, but never anything like this. And these questions were coming from foreigners. Was it really that big a deal?

I began to wonder if there was a way around this. I needed to survive my next year here, without my hair being a focal point in the issues I already had to deal with… but how? There had to be a solution, even if only temporary. All I needed was something to take the attention away, while allowing myself to continue being low-maintenance.

…. But what?

Tune in next time to see how Simone solves her hair-raising issue, in a country that’s as foreign to her, as her hair is to it.

Be sure to check out Simone’s weekly blog at StraightFromTheCurls