“It’s time for your lice check,” a woman who goes by “Ms. K” whispers directly into my ear as she starts running her fingers into my scalp and through each strand of hair. I’m in a dark room, Eastern ...

The barber turns on his trimmers. Click. Bzzzzzzzzz. He brings them closer and closer to my ears. He moves from one side of my head to the other. The gentle buzzing sound slowly pans from my left ear.