In the Press

Edmonton Journal

Ed, the magazine
July 12, 2003
By Penny Cholmondeley

Club Dread: Untangling the difference between real and fake 'locks

Woolly locks - some fat and matted, others twisted and thin - extend from Kenny Ganga's head like the roots of an ancient tree.

So when he talks about his love of gardening, you wonder if he means the flowers in the yard or his mass of tangled dreadlocks. At just 17, he wears his dreads with uncommon confidence, as a physical record of his spiritual and cultural experiences.

Ganga is on the fringes of the latest trend appropriated by the mainstream fashion industry. Pop-icons like Christina Aguilaera and the guru of haute couture, Christian Dior, have used dreadlocks to manufacture a hip, urban image.

Dreads became prominent in the Caribbean in the 1920s with the growth of Rastafarianism. Dreadlocking was later immortalized by Bob Marley in the 1970s and has been associated with reggae ever since. For the Rasta, dreads symbolized spiritual commitment, liberation and a rejection of physical vanity.

Ironically, what began as an anti-fashion statement is now an entrenched style. In fact, anyone wanting adopt the look can, within hours, emerge from a salon with immaculate dreads - dreads that would normally take years to form naturally.

As you might expect, salon-generated dreadlocks offend Ganga .

"It's so impersonal. They'll be neat and groomed, but I'd rather have them fat, small, skinny, long. It's about growing as a person from the inside out."

Drawn to Rastafarianism after a trip to his native Trinidad in 1999, he decided to grow dreads naturally to connect with his island roots.

"I describe my hair as a bodily extension of my soul," Ganga muses. "That may sound hokey or hippy, but it's part of who I am. I didn't do it for fashion or vanity. I did it because I think dreads are beautiful."

Stylist Deborah Froud, who offers virtually instant dreads at Edmonton 's HIP salon, says she doesn't see many customers like Ganga; most clients are fashion-conscious kids with the $100 to $400 needed for professional dreads.

She appreciates clients who desire a creative styling approach and want to personalize their dreads by adding colour or patterns. However, she feels that dreadlocking, like any hairstyling trend, has a limited shelf life.

"I'll give it another three years."

Still, dreads are a big business. Vancouver 's Knotty Boy markets dread products, styling and removable extensions made from organic and synthetic materials. Founder Adrianna Hepper believes demand is partially linked to the popularity of hip-hop and rap-metal.

"I've got a sense that the majority do it as an anti-conformity statement," Hepper says.

"They are trying to make a statement and show they're concerned with deeper issues than appearances."

Hepper concedes extensions fulfill a customer's desire for instant gratification. But she insists radical extensions can be even more in keeping with individuality.

"It's a service for people who find regular dreads too tame or difficult to maintain," she says, noting Europe's blossoming cyber-goth movement features wildly coloured dread wigs and elaborate extensions complemented by dramatic make-up.

"These are people who are using themselves as a canvas for creative expression."

Trend or no trend, a certain segment of the population will always embrace dreadlocks. Janaya Ellis, a junior high school teacher and frontwoman for Edmonton reggae outfit Souljah Fyah, embraces Rastafarianism and sees dreads as intrinsic to her personal history.

Like Ganga, she's puzzled by the instant-salon approach to dreads.

"I've been tied to reggae music for as long as I can remember and feel a real connection with Rasta culture in terms of who I am and what I stand for," She says.

"Talk to almost anyone who has taken the time to grow dreadlocks, and you'l lfind it's a metaphor for their life. Over the years I've become less contaminating of my spirit and my physical body, and my dreadlocks represent that."

While Ellis appreciates that fashion dreads have diverse meanings for individuals, she argues that they fail to offer the same opportunity for reflection. Her own dreads, for example, took years to grow.

"People who go to a salon miss the point. the experience of letting go and getting to know yourself. It's about accepting that who you are naturally is beautiful."