In Nigeria, young people are profiled and killed by the notorious section of the police called SARS, for something as elementary as the kind of hair they wear. Stepping out of the house often scares me. What if my mother did not cut my locs when I was a year old? I probably would have been among the thousands of youths in Nigeria who are constantly harassed, detained and sometimes killed just because their hair is different from what the society has labeled as normal? What if you are a young person in Nigeria whose only constant prayer is to come back home alive? So I created this piece, not as a form of surrender, but a way of lifting my innocence up for everyone to see. It is not a gun, it is just hair.