I donâ€™t understand church hats. For the most part, theyâ€™re annoyingly huge visual obstacles preventing me from seeing my pastor help me see my Jesus. You know, when I had one.
I remember one Sunday I wanted to take the obnoxious hat off of the lady in front of me and fling that b*tch (the hat, not the woman) clear across the sanctuary to see what kind of distance I could get.
But women seem to be fascinated with them. Not sure if they just look like the fashion choice of a grown or mature woman or what, but so many women I know look forward to the days where they rock the church hat and tambourine combo at church. Add to the fact that those joints look heavy on top of what has to be a pretty hefty lace-front and color me all kinds of lost.
Women love them some church hats.
Iâ€™ve always associated the 28-gallon hats that Iâ€™ve witnessed as some sort of high society southern belle snobbery type didgeridoo. ÃŸ–thatâ€™s an instrument and not a hat. Could be that I grew up down South and the women I often saw rocking them at our Stone Temple Pilot to Nowhere Methodist Cum Baptist Standing On The Dock of The Bay Missionary Non-denominational Church werenâ€™t exactly high society, but they played the part.
And if it goes down, yâ€™all, thatâ€™s my heart.
Maybe itâ€™s like the Black man Cadillac. There used to be something about rolling in a Caddy that just made all right with the world. That was the established ninja car. Nowadays, Caddys have lost their stronghold in my mind of what an established older Black man drives. But a Caddy is still a Caddy. But thatâ€™s a car. It goes to and fro and doesnâ€™t obstruct anybodyâ€™s view of Venus. It also doesnâ€™t draw odd attention to a woman who is 5â€™2â€ wearing a hat twice her size thatâ€™s Easter pink. With a veil. And what looks like odd little blueberries attached.
And a bow.
I really hate the bows.
Then youâ€™ve got the huge boxes the hats come in. When I was little, I would sleep in those boxes. You could move into one now in NYC and have to pay $1,000 for rent. They take up so much space in an already crammed closet with the rest of the shiny, shimmery clothing that only comes out on special occasion and funerals, which ever comes first.
So weâ€™ve got big a** boxes that house big a** hats that barely fit in cars and doorways that are generally only reserved for the church house, a place where a man cannot wear a hat out of fear of being disrespectfulâ€¦to somebody. Coupled with the ginormous sized purses some women wear and youâ€™ve got a whole lot of heft going on.
Now let me say that I have seen some women rock the mimosa out of a church hat. Hey, some women just have it like that.
I wonderâ€¦is it some type of rite of passage into womanhood in certain circles? I went to see the play Crowns some years ago (great play) and I got the impression that awomanâ€™s crown or hat was a sort of passing of the torch type deal. Akin to somebodyâ€™s daddy handing down his most prized possession like a watch or something (my dad does have quite the watch collectionâ€¦Iâ€™m scheming). Maybe the passing of the hat comes with an hours long convo about the history of this hat from Macyâ€™s to the head of your great-great-grandmother who wore it while she was fighting injustice down by the riverside.
I donâ€™t know. But Iâ€™m curious.
Ladies? Whatâ€™s with the church hat fascination? Do you have hats? Does it add to your womanhood? And fellas, is there a male equivalent.
Talk to me. Petey.
-VSB P aka THE ARSONIST aka MR. HAT DANCE aka GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL HE A 3