How to Wear a Zān (Jade Hair Stick) by Lauren Poplock
Tools Required
One jade hair stick (a gift from your aunt, whose words never crossed the border to your understanding)
Coarse, wavy hair (missing the ancient, silken gloss passed down through generations)
A mirror (reflecting a face that looks the part, but cannot play it)
Do not begin by twisting. That mistake will leave you with a handful of loose strands and a hollow chest. Start by gathering your hair into a high ponytail. Hold it tight - the way you cling onto the three Chinese phrases you still remember.
Twist the length of your hair clockwise. It will resist. It has been raised on American shampoo and secular convenience. It lacks the muscle memory required for a timeless knot.
“Look how elegant she looks,” your mother calls out, her eyes glued to the actress gracing the screen of her favorite gǔzhuāngjù (costume drama). “Girls from China don’t learn how to do this. They inherit it.”
Ignore her. Loop the twisted length around the base of your thumb. The hair slips. Your fingers, clumsy and uncoordinated, falter against the strands. These hands know how to hold the thin paper of American currency, not the traditions passed down through generations.
Slide the point of the jade stick under the top layer of the bun, moving from right to left.
“你拿它的姿势不对! (You’re holding it wrong!)” the ghost of a grandmother whispers in your ear. Or maybe it was the salesman at the night market in Beijing, hissing 香蕉人 (banana person) to your Jansport backpack as you left his stall.
Weave the pin downward, anchoring the weight of a lineage you barely understand. Press too hard, and the sharp point pierces your flesh. Bleed a little. Pain is the only dialect that requires no translation.
Flip the stick back towards the right, catching the far edge of the loop. Push it through to secure the weight.
Let go.
The jade stick falls instantly, clattering loudly against the porcelain sink. Your hair cascades down your spine, a sudden, cold torment of midnight that refuses to be bound.
Pick it up.
Leave it on the counter.
Walk out with a plastic claw clip instead.
An alumna of the Juniper Institute for Young Writers, Lauren Poplock has been recognized by the Alliance for Young Writers and Artists, National Council for Teachers in English, Hollins University, Live Poet's Society of New Jersey, SplitArts Foundation, and more. She is published or forthcoming in the Eunoia Review, Neologism Poetry Journal, Gargoyle Magazine, 101 Word Stories, Scaffold Lit, Rivener Lit, Bokeh Review, and more. She is a General Editor of Trailblazer Magazine and Prose Editor of Apotheca Journal.
