Black men bond where they feel at home — in the barbershop

A trip to the barbershop used to be an all-day thing. On a typical Saturday morning in 1999, my mom would rush me and my brothers out of the house to get to Artistic Profiles on Morang Ave. on Detroit’s east side. We had to hurry — the barber gave out numbers to determine spots in line. The earlier you arrived, the better because it meant you wouldn’t be stuck in the shop all day. 

Artistic Profiles was a brightly colored marketplace buzzing with people, laughter, hot takes and posters with different haircut options by the number. Conversation, connection and commerce were the engines that powered the place where I spent so much time as a youngster styling my hair and learning about the world. Even though Artistic Profiles is no more, the culture that I experienced from “the chair” endures.

There aren’t many third spaces in society where Black men feel safe enough to rest in public. Defensive city planning practices and surveillance often make it uncomfortable for people of color to engage in public respite activities. But in the barbershop, everyone has value and a place.

— Orlando Bailey

LISTEN: Memories at the barbershop

For me, the barbershop is where I first publicly debated older Black men about who’s better between Kobe and LeBron. It’s where I started rattling off lyrics from Jay-Z and Nas to prove I had indeed listened to enough of their music to make bold statements about their work. And it was one of the first spaces that I felt comfortable asking questions about relationships, dating and the complex issues running through my mind. 

The Black barbershop is a sanctuary for grooming and public rest and a pulpit to express joy, debate values and politics in a community that is affirming and safe. 

Of course, it’s about the cut, too. The instant boost of self-esteem after a fresh lineup is uncanny. When the barber shoots alcohol from a spray bottle on the head and beard, it’s a similar high to leaving a charismatic church service. And when the barber whips off that cape and sets you about your day, it uniquely encourages Black and brown men to be “outside” so that everyone can see. 

It’s an experience you can find all across Detroit in different venues and with different styles. But above all, it’s creating community in a city that has suffered decades of population loss, the deterioration of neighborhoods and the loss of social settings. The barbershop has become an oasis to Black and brown men like me.

— Bryce Huffman

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‘No nonsense’

Inside Heavyweight Cuts, it’s instantly noticeable that there are more Black people in the shop than any other business along this small stretch of Kercheval at Van Dyke. The shop has an old school barbershop feeling to it: It has the barber chairs and mirrors along the right wall, a couch and folding chairs on the opposite side of the shop and wooden floors where clumps of hair sit for a few moments until a barber sweeps them up. 

In between the clipping and conversations, people look up at a small TV playing movies or, on Saturdays, college sports.

“We are a central place for fellowship,” said David Hardin Jr., who has owned the shop for 23 years. “Sometimes you might just need to vent, to have somebody to listen to you, somebody that would have a clear head and who’s not judgmental.”

Hardin, 50, said he has worked hard to make sure his little paradise is all about community. 

“This is a laid back cool environment. Good conversation. No nonsense,” Hardin said.

Heavyweight Cuts is an average-sized barbershop with a familiar, family-friendly atmosphere – even if you’ve never been inside. Keeping that focus means, for Hardin and his customers, certain things need to stay outside. 

“There is no smoking, no drinking, no gambling, I will keep the cussing to a minimum,” he said. “So you could bring your mom, your grandma or granddad, your grandkids, your nieces and nephew, whoever. Even if they’re not getting a cut, they won’t feel uncomfortable being in here.”

That’s one of the main reasons 34-year-old Detroiter Johnnie Moore has been getting his cuts at Hardin’s shop since he was 14. Moore praised Hardin’s efforts to keep the shop “feeling like family” over the years. 

“Dave always treats me right and since this is a neighborhood shop, I see him treat the customers right,” Moore said. “He always treats his people right so they always come back for more.”

In the past 20 years, Moore said he’s seen the surrounding neighborhood change, but Hardin’s Heavyweight Cuts has been a constant. It’s one of the reasons Moore said he feels comfortable bringing his 4-year-old daughter to the shop with him. 

Beyond the consistency though, Moore just loves the way Hardin makes him look after a fresh cut. 

“Just being young, being Black, once you get your haircut, you feel like you’re untouchable,” he said. “So there’s no better feeling in the world, especially when the girls like it.”

Whether someone is going to get a fresh haircut in time for wedding photos, to debate with their friends about why the Detroit Lions might actually be successful next season, or to simply rest in a public space, the neighborhood barbershop can provide relief from some of the harsh realities of living in the city like gun violence, poor economic conditions and the narrative erasure that leave so many feeling invisible. 

And, it’s not just important for Detroiters. The U.S. has a history of being unsafe for its Black citizens since its inception through chattel slavery, Jim Crow laws, subsequent police brutality and other forms of systematic disenfranchisement and marginalization. According to a survey conducted by The Harris Poll two years after the murder of George Floyd in Minneapolis, about one-third of Black Americans felt less safe than they did prior. 

Yet, across the city, Hardin and other barbers work hard to keep people’s spirits high. 

A place to ‘hang out’

Jefferson’s Barber Shop on Ryan Road is not too different in appearance from Heavyweight Cuts, but the atmosphere is much more tailored to grown men being unapologetically themselves. 

There’s profanity, the sight and smell of cognac in small Solo cups and, often, some bad advice about dealing with relationships. But for owner Don Jefferson, that’s always been the vibe.

“Man, these guys come in here to hang out,” Jefferson said in the middle of cutting a customer’s hair. “Half the time, they don’t even get a cut. They just watch TV or drink and talk about whatever.”

Jefferson, 77, said his journey to becoming the neighborhood barber was unplanned.

“Back in the day when I was raising my children and kept getting laid off from Chrysler, I had to do something, so I decided to do this,” he said. 

Soon after being laid off, the former plant worker turned his “side hustle” into a 32-year career. He bought what used to be a flower shop and has been running it as a barbershop ever since. He’s seen many changes in the city and his neighborhood throughout the years, but among the biggest is in the way men wear their hair. 

“The older men used to, and a lot of them who still have hair, wear it shorter and more neat,” he said. “But the younger generation, they like to wear it long like folks did back in the day when they couldn’t afford to get it cut.”

While Jefferson prefers the short and neat look, he’s happy to give his customers whatever they want. 

“Even when their hair is a mess, kinda like what you’ve got,” he said while pointing to my head.

Jefferson said he’s proud that Black men of many different generations can come to his place and feel comfortable. 

The generational hair preferences are evident in Jefferson’s. The old cats like to rock tapered bald fades with Murray’s wave grease and an olive oil spray sheen to finish it off. The younger crowd trends more toward tapered locs and curly fros with some help from the spin brush with faded sides and a line up. 

Even the facial hair is different between the generations. The older men in the shop wear their beards and mustaches very neat, while the younger men who can grow facial hair let theirs curl up and roam freely like an afro on their face. 

People ‘who are like me’

In Southwest Detroit, shops cater more to Latino Detroiters who also need a barbershop of their own to call home. 

Misters Barbershop, owned by Guatemalan immigrant Diego Vasquez, fits that bill. Vasquez, who doesn’t speak English, takes pride in having a place for other Spanish-speaking residents to feel comfortable.

“I work with a lot of people who are like me, which is a lot of fun,” Vazques, 40, told me via his daughter, Esmeralda, 20, who translated.

Misters shares similarities with the shops on the east side: Many grown men with their sons, laughter and familial vibes, confidence oozing from each man as they get up from the chair following a haircut. 

At Misters, Latin culture is on full display from the front door to the bathroom in the back, including Latin pop music videos on the TV and canvas paintings hung up on the orange and blue walls. Some of the stations alongside the barber chairs, where clients were draped in Gucci G capes, had pictures of family members taped to the mirrors and countertops lined with products and clippers.

Vasquez has only been living in the United States full-time for “about two years” and has owned the shop for one year, but he hopes to stay cutting hair on Vernor for a long time. 

“I like it because [cutting hair] has been my job for many years and I like transforming people’s look by changing up their hair, especially for Latinos,” Vasquez said. 

The shop and its owner are primarily there to serve Spanish speakers, but Vasquez said “everyone is welcome.”

A spa feeling

It’s not just men who are finding a home in the barbershop.

Dawn Sanford has been cutting hair for over 35 years. About four and a half years ago, the owner of Shears and Shaves Salon and Spa started her own shop on Livernois near Eight Mile.

The entire goal, she said, was to bring an upscale salon feeling to the city’s northwest side. The floors, leather chairs and even the clippers look new in a way that isn’t typical for a Detroit barbershop. The walls are lined with large images of famous Detroiters including Mayor Coleman Young and former Detroit Pistons “Bad Boy” star Isiah Thomas. 

The front of the salon has a waiting area with a chess set sitting between comfy seats and haircare products neatly lined up in a display case for customers to buy. 

“I wanted to bring an atmosphere of relaxation, a spa feeling, to the city,” Sanford said. “We want you to have that total experience with a peace-of-mind, taking-the-edge-off safe space feeling, if you will.”

Sanford, 66, spent more than 30 years working at Big D’s, a unisex barbershop about a mile and a half south. She took a lot from her time there and brought a lot of things – family-friendly vibes, expertise in various styles and even quite a few loyal customers – to her own shop.

“She’s an excellent barber to me, so I’ll follow her wherever she goes,” customer Keith Reese told me while waiting for a haircut in the lobby. 

Reese considers Sanford to be “like a big sister.” She not only makes sure he looks and feels nice, she also listens carefully to him, he said. 

“I can talk to her, she can tell when I need certain things done, she can tell when I might need a head massage, just by the expression I might have on my face,” Reese said. 

Aside from a haircut, Shears and Shaves offers services not often associated with barbershops in Detroit: aromatherapy, massages, manicures, pedicures, facials, body scrubs and more. The extra services are a great touch, Sanford said, but she believes people come back because she learned how to make it feel professional. 

“We’re more than just a service, we’re a culture,” she said. “So we create culture, we create the understanding of how service works. If you be there for your customers, your customers will be there for you.”