Seattle Hempfest Teaser

In any war, warriors will suffer for the cause. They will make personal sacrifices. Some great, some small. Der Kommissar Mariela and I made one such small sacrifice by venturing to Hempfest on Saturday. It was a goldmine. We have dozens of images to go through, but in the meantime, enjoy this video. I wish it were bigger so you could feel like you were there with me. You might want to turn your volume down, it may be quite loud. Apologies for the sound quality. I was there for the hair.

Dreaded White People and their Innocent Spawn


That child is on the verge of either crying or laughing. My wager is on crying. And the doofy mother with her circus wrist warmers and gift wrap bow is like ‘Om shanti, little one. Eat some banana and shut up, we’re at a protest. It’s awesome!’


Based on the age of the child, and assuming that’s his mother, it’s safe to say she had those dreads when she gave birth. Perhaps even at conception. Given the Nuptial Edition, I should not be surprised that white people with dreads manage to get laid, but still…I am.


 The glee with which that child in her Toms is about to dispatch that dread onto the floor is all the proof you need. White dreadlocks are an abomination and not even children can bear them.


Is this the most horrific picture of the bunch? Here is a dreaded white lady handing off her newly shorn dreads to a bewildered, clearly disturbed child. What kind of parenting is this? Those are undoubtedly a biohazard. It is bizarre that there seems to be an audience present for the event, although…someone cutting off her white dreads does sound like a pretty joyous occasion. Maybe this is actually the greatest picture.


 This cute little guy is too young to comprehend the idea of cultural appropriation or unforgivable hair, hence the mischievous, carefree smile on his happy little face.


You can almost see the understanding dawning on this toddler’s face; clearly, she’s just emerged from the cave and is still squinting in the unforgiving light of knowledge.


Love him while you can, before he realizes what’s happening on your head.

Email me your pics.

Broadway (Capitol Hill, Seattle) Edition

Der Kommissar Mariela, DWP’s very own Hawkeye, noticed an alarming trend on Broadway Avenue in Seattle’s grimiest, most precious neighborhood, Capitol Hill. This is one of the many reasons I avoid Capitol Hill whenever I can, in addition to the infestation of dour hipsters and the horrible parking. DKM, however, is not so fortunate, and is often required to go to Capitol Hill. Fearlessly, she captures the indigenous Capitol Hill DWP in service for the cause. Here they are.



Even if you couldn’t see one pink little finger, you would know this was a dreaded white person by her extremely multicultural sweater and bag, and by how atrocious those dreads are. Also, this pic was taken in July. July. Notice the woman walking the opposite direction in a white t-shirt in the first pic, carrying a cool beverage of some type. Welcome to Capitol Hill.



Oh, it’s cool, guys. This dwp gets a pass, as he’s obvs just an artist practicing his craft. LOL j/k guys, you know we can never give them a pass!


This girl takes off her shoes, as if to drive the point irretrievably home that she is back to her roots and connected with her primitiveness or whatever self-serving platitudes would inevitably come tumbling out of her mouth if someone said, ‘Hey there, why are you barefoot in the middle of the city?’ Don’t be fooled by that grass. It’s still Capitol Hill.


I see this and my face is like the last panel of this Cyanide & Happiness.

And, truly, the most impressive, to conclude this issue:

What’s happening here? I am impressed at the amount of hair this girl has. I wonder how much of it is actually connected to her head, and not just tangled in the dreads. Or possible fake? I also don’t understand what’s going on with that bandanna. What function is that serving? I’m all for form over function, on occasion, but I see no form here. Do you? If so, by all means, clue me in.

Please, further the cause and send your own pictures to dreadedwhitepeople@gmail.com

Also, Burning Man is almost upon us. We are recruiting.

All Hail the Tennessean

I can only assume that due to The Tennessean‘s prominence as a news source it likes to appear neutral. But we know better, and we thank them for it. They opted to do an entire expose on dreadlocks – mostly white (22/23 by my count, possibly 21/23) – at Bonnaroo. Mad props to them. Bask in it here.

And, just so you have something to look at in this post, here you go.

“If I’m honest with myself, this is not exactly what I had in mind when I decided to get dreadlocks.”

Be a champ and send me your original content DWPs!

The Sixth Circle of Hell

This post doesn’t have any theme besides pictures that just make me say, ‘WTF, guys?’


This is like a terrible dream. What if their dreads all got locked together and they couldn’t untangle them, like moose antlers, and they all died because they wanted to have a hair orgy? Was their mirth fleeting? I bet they had a cuddle party after this.


Seriously? The goatee and flavor saver, too? Come on, bro.


“I feel a little silly doing this. I hope this doesn’t make my dreads look stupid.”


I feel like maybe this is actually Rip Van Winkle, and he’s only just woken up and his hair was just like that. It’s what I hope, anyway. That looks like it would be heavy enough to hurt.  Or at least make your neck tired.

Whaaaaaaaaaaaat

I love this photo. There’s the great patch of scalp you can see, the strands of hair trying to extricate themselves from the “dreads.” And then, is it just me, or do you also see a snub nosed monkey in between the two left-most dreads? It’s like the man in the moon! Or maybe it looks more like Admiral Ackbar…what do you see?

Send me your offenders.

Didgeridoos & Dreaded White People: An Unholy Union

As so many white people with dreadlocks like to believe they are on a continuously progressing path to self-actualization and enlightenment, it makes sense that they place a lot of importance on the presence of ancient primitive shit in their lives, reverting back to their roots and natural states, or whatever other nonsense (doubtlessly peppered with the insufferable non-word ‘grok’) spills ceaselessly from their lips. Nevertheless, in my research, I was surprised by a trend. If a white person is playing a didgeridoo, there’s a very good chance they have dreads. I don’t understand the particular draw of a particular instrument to people with exceptionally shitty judgment when it comes to their hair, but the connection is undeniable, as you will see below.

 Nothing says authenticity like the doofy wide-wale corduroy Tam o’Shanter from your grunge phase in the ’90s.


“I feel so connected to my adopted aboriginal brothers when I play the instrument of our people. Oh shit, where’s my sunscreen?”



Is a PVC didgeridoo pretty much the ultimate slap in the face of the didgeridoo?


Douchey double dreadlock didgeridoo bonus multiplier.


Tie-dye, dreadlocks, didgeridoo, bandanna, slightly befuddled expression…this guy has it all.


This dude has apparently made his living being a dreadlocked didgeridoo player. Sellout!


“I think ‘Long December’ would sound beautiful on the didge!”

 

This is just a smattering of my didgeridoo file. And here is this fantastic picture from Burning Man, which is a lovely opportunity for me to mention that if you’re going to Burning Man, I want your eyes! Now, admittedly, the fellow below isn’t playing the didgeridoo, but you can clearly see he is being seduced by its siren call, and has put on his sexiest garb to answer it. Hello, sailor!

Send me your DWP pics.

Nuptial Edition

Is nothing sacred? One would hope (this one would, anyway) that even the most fervent devotee of white dreadlocks would reconsider his/her hairpath as his/her impending nuptials grew nearer. In my research, it is clear that there are many who did not – or perhaps did, and erroneously decided maintaining them – even on D-Day – would be a good idea. As evidenced below, you will see that this is indeed not the case.

Toeing the Line of Absurdity:

“As an individual, I express my uniqueness by subscribing part and parcel to the neo earth mother/hippie look. It really encapsulates all of my free-thinking quirkiness.”


“We’re very ‘alt’ and into ‘counter culture,’ as you can see by my dreads and his gauged ears. Except on our wedding day, where we thought maybe we didn’t want to look like total tools. Only partial tools. Thank god for this hat.”



“Hey babe. Sorry my hair looks like crap, but I’m 100% committed to both it and you.”


“Ill-fitting business casual is as formal as these dreads allow. Any more formal and I might look doofy.”


“I hope I put enough flowers and colored shit in my hair to make it look good.”

Seizing the Line of Absurdity and Having Orgiastic Frenzied Sex with it:

“We’re so subversive. We’re really sticking it to tradition  with our dreads and ironic tuxedo t-shirt.”



I’m not sure what’s worse: his facial hair, or her head hair. Poll time.


“I’m so bummed I couldn’t find bridal Steampunk goggles.”

“That’s okay, your totally culturally conscious neo-tribal headpiece more than makes up for it.”


Keep an eye on those boots. I have great hope for this couple. This wedding obviously required real commitment – even the lingerie is Steampunk.

And, I saved the best for last. Ah, Russia. A country perpetually behind the times, aesthetically. A country populated by poor people and run by the absurdly rich. A lawless land of shameless displays of wealth, where if you want to have a hella crazy goth wedding, you do it like this: 

   What is it with those boots? Why would anyone wear them ever, let alone in their wedding?



I didn’t know either of The Twins could love. Hey, how much do clothes cost in The Matrix?

No doubt I have only scraped the surface of DWP weddings. Send me your DWP wedding  (or not) pics!

Steampunk Edition

I was unaware that dreads were A Thing with steampunk subculture. I typically try to ensure my involvement with all things steampunk is as minimal as possible. But then, in my research, I came across this:

I LOL’ed, IRL. It was a mirth that was hiding pain, though. It hurts to see puff sleeves and stripes abused like this. And the spikes on the mini-hat fascinator (which are so stupid they might warrant their own blog)? And the dreads? It was too much. But I was conflicted; frequently, it seems, these dreads are fake. If Dreaded White People is devoted to white dreads because they look crappy, and fake dreads can be made to look more like good dreads, is this really the place for them? (To be clear, the dreads above cannot be construed as ‘good,’ even in the smallest measurement possible. They have that hairball-cat vom thing going on. How’s that for failure? Even your fake dreads look like bodily waste.) Would a steampunk edition of DWP be legit?

I had to consult Professor Brock, expert on pop culture and aesthetics. He was immediately concerned: “It’s so necessary. We’re talking about bad style here, after all. If you’re white and have dreads that make you look like a total loser, you merit inclusion whether the dreads are your real hair or not.”

Additionally, a subculture such as steampunk that appropriates dreadlocks in order to define and enhance its “look” is patently offensive. Also, steampunk tramples all over Victorian fashion, appropriating history, as well, and indiscriminately exploiting it. This is indefensible. More germane to this site, though, it just looks fucking stupid. And so, the (first?) Steampunk Edition of Dreaded White People. Just when you thought white people with dreadlocks could not get anymore obnoxious, they start pulling this shit out:

“You look skeptical, but let’s be honest – we both know I look really cool. Just ignore the baseboard heater.”

“I like to incorporate Native American elements into my steampunk look out of respect.”


“If I can’t attract people by being myself, I’ll resort to a fantasy land where I can live in sweet oblivion. Being different makes me sexy.”


“Nothing says ‘suitable for wild, wild west shootout’ like Elle McPherson Intimates. Wait, where are my goggles? Oh, good. All set.”


“Maybe if I put on enough make up and jewelry to suspend my disbelief, I’ll finally feel attractive.”


“Hold up, this can’t be right. My pocket watch says I’m a total tool.”

And finally, in parting, this girl, who perhaps isn’t fully Steampunk, but she’s got the stupid mini-hat fascinator, gross dreads, those insufferable furry boots/legwarmers so popular amongst the Burner types, a corset, ruffled underwear, and a bustle made out of…I have no idea what that is. And, of course, the fucking elf ears. Obviously, this is where she belongs.

“I just want to take a moment to draw attention to my head, in case it was possible for you to look anywhere besides me right now. Thanks.”

Speaking of Burner types, Burning Man is almost upon us, and it is certain to be teeming with white people with dreads. I need sleeper agents on the ground, documenting the war crimes. Send your Burning Man pics, and any other offenders, to dreadedwhitepeople@gmail.com.