Sorry I'm a misfit?

So I started my loc-ing process this pass Sunday and I love it! It's different, it's short, it makes me look less like a 16 year old, and it feels très chic. I still have to get used to the new look and the constant itch, but I like it and unlike my ephemeral relationships, I believe that this is will be a long-term commitment.

Although it has only been two days, I've noticed lots of changes towards me. I was hoping to raid off the old pedophile men and creeps from talking to me, but now it's worst. I guess it's because I look more confident, but my run ins with old, ghoulish men on the bus and train, has intensify. But that's not the issue. The issue though is that I no longer feel accepted at my workplace. Granted I work with predominantly white middle aged people, the looks I'm getting is incredible. I am an eclectic person and mesh well with people of different ethnic groups and enjoy learning about cultures other than my own; therefore, I do not intend to make this posting about race relations this is just merely my observations. However, it amazes me how the awkward vibe of a group of people can make one feel like a offbeat due to a hair style. Hair represents an individual and their heritage and correct me if I'm wrong but I do not remember being born with European hair. I do remember the box of Just For Me relaxer that my mother and aunt took turns slapping on my hair with a fragile wooden stick, and the breakage that soon preceded; yet, I don't recall having European textured hair...ever.

When I started this job, I walked in with extension and let me tell you, people were walking by my cubicle everyday saying hello and wanting to get to know me because I was the new "kid". I took out the extensions because my hairline was receding and started wearing my Afro with a headband, and the hellos were still there. Maybe it's because my hair is fairly curly when I put gel in it but the hellos and the drop-by's were still apparent. So Monday morning, I walked into the building and this time I was welcomed with glares and whispers starting from the security lady (who normally smiles at me), to the elevator, to my cubicle. No one said hello, not even my supervisor who's always stopping by to share little anecdotes of his weekends. The one's who said hello, said it only when my eyes met theirs or when I said hello first. This one lady almost tripped from staring at my baby locs. I know I look semi bald because the hair is not full yet, but come on! I don't see Paul's and Henry's bald ass getting blazed like this! Now I don't know if my paranoia is kicking in, but like Ripley's, believe it or not, things have changed. Maybe in their eyes I'm getting too comfortable amongst them I dunno, sorry I'm a misfit, but I'm sick and tired of conforming to societies norms. My locs are very neat, rolled up correctly, and flat (pictures will be up soon), so what's the problem? Deep down I'm hoping that I'm getting treated differently because my hair is so fa-bu-lous and fierce that they're speechless, but I know that's not the case. I recently finished reading a book by Toni Blackman and I can't help it but relate to a passage where she asks:

new Negro?

they used to talk about a new Negro
i want to know what am i

am i an old negro because
the new Negro is now old

OR

am i a new Negro because i am
not old enough to be an old negro

OR

is it that I was born after the
new Negro and they called me black

OR

is it that i am not black anymore
since i am African American?
-Toni Blackman