It’s just hair. But is it, really?
Challenging discourses surrounding black women’s hair and spaces it’s allowed to exist in
As a natural haired black woman, the topic of natural hair and embedded discourses is something that is very important to me, and not because I wear my hair in its natural state. It is important to me because I choose to wear my hair in its natural state, despite the messages around me in all spaces of society (formal or informal) that I have had the pleasure to be part of.
From my experience, and the experiences of a number of natural haired black women that I knew growing up, wearing our natural hair in public was a big social taboo. Those that dared to wear it had to defend and justify this choice (and by extension their sanity) to perfect strangers. The social discourses surrounding this topic were staunchly aggressive and outright disapproving.
It has been an age since then, and attitudes towards black hair have changed for the better, so I thought. After all, there have been notable changes in black hair care and beauty products across the world. I mean, I order my hair care products from all over the world and the market for black hair care in general is now geared towards natural hair products more than any chemically heavy products such as relaxers and perms.
But somehow there’s still ‘that crowd’. Don’t get me wrong. They don’t hang out in crowds. If you’re unlucky, you’re likely to meet just one person or two people from that crowd on your bad hair day. The ones who try to panel beat you into the beauty standard stereotype. The ones who would gently suggest ‘if you relaxed your hair, you might have longer hair than Nora’ or ‘if you really took care of your hair, you might be the prettiest girl in the street’. The disqualifying factor…your rascal bushy hair.
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Since the beginning of time people have done this to women across the world. We have been prescribed the same beauty standards irrespective of race, social class, financial security etc. In fact, the whole beauty industry rigidly forces women to conform to prejudiced ideologies. From the shampoo we use to skin creams, the aim is always the same — to make women fit into the mold of the perfect woman stereotype. Who is this woman? It is the woman on the cover of a magazine. The tall petite girl with straight hair, light skin tone, perfect little nose and blue eyes. Every woman in the world is fairly acquainted with this woman, because she is the woman we are all ‘conditioned’ to be. For most women, fitting into the prescribed beauty standards is a much bigger issue than simply changing their wardrobe or getting a new haircut. For black women in particular this includes (permanently) altering the state of their hair.
A few years back I even presented a paper at an academic conference exploring this very topic. Yes, it is that much more important to me.
Why was this worth researching for me? Because at the time I had just decided to ‘go natural’ and I wanted to know what this new journey meant for me. I wanted to know what my hair care regimen was going to be like in terms of time, financial and emotional investment. The ‘big chop’ is not exactly a fun experience. Soon thereafter, two important steps were taken in favor of the natural hair movement — by black women in varied careers and black young women (high school students) at opposite corners of the world. Unruly’s “you can touch my hair” campaign and Pretoria High School for Girls protests were revolutionary for the black natural hair care community worldwide. Pretty soon prominent news outlets picked up these campaigns and before I knew it, I was invested too.
These campaigns had the same ethos about black hair and the right to wear it without fault, albeit different presentations. They challenged the court of public opinion that every type of hair is beautiful, every type of hair that is, except black hair. We have all heard the little pet phrases from black women themselves: “I need to relax my hair, I have very kinky hair, my hair looks unprofessional, it is unruly, I look like a hobo etc.” These are more than just empty little phrases. They are reminiscent of how society views black women’s hair- as simply unacceptable. In fact hair inventions meant to ‘help’ black women navigate their ‘hair situation’ have been the cornerstone of the beauty industry since time immemorial. As a result, generations of black women have endowed their very own hair with undeserved shame and have made it the thing they hide from the public using these very inventions- weaves, wigs, braids, thermal and chemical straighteners.
But why is this on my mind now? I was naive. I thought the fight was over. But this morning on reddit there a South African schoolgirl asking for advice on what do in response to her school banning all hairstyles that traditionally go with black natural hair — afros, braids, bantu knots, cornrows etc. All other hairstyles are permitted, all except the ones that might even remotely signal their blackness. These microaggressions aren’t just coming from formal institutions. You still get a few ‘tame it’ suggestions from strangers when you’re just walking about at the mall.
Pretty recently I went to a hair salon for a deep conditioning and a blow-out. Which to my knowledge does not involve any chemical hair straightening products. My homemade or store bought deep conditioners involve natural products meant to strengthen the hair strands, not alter their state or mess with the integrity of my hair in any way. Long story short, the visit ended as a spectacular failure. The lady was under the impression she was to “reintroduce light relax to [my] hair to blow it out”. “That’s how you blow natural hair out” she said. Needless to say, I disagreed and firmly stated that under no circumstances is she to put a relaxer on my hair. I apologized for wasting her time and quickly made my way out of the door. In my bewildered state, I also mentioned that she might want to be upfront on her branding and marketing signage since it clearly states she specifically works with natural hair. I left and retold the story to my friends and family.
Turns out, my corner of the world has not exactly kept up with the natural hair movement’s unspoken rules. Everyone seems to believe that to stretch natural hair, one absolutely has to use a chemical hair straightening product of sorts. But, the degree of use depends on the user’s intended outcome. They also seemed to believe that by stretching my Afro with braids, twists, curlers, or any any tool capable of doing such, I am unnecessarily making this journey harder for myself. Yet, no one can explain why my hair seems to grow longer and faster than before my natural hair journey. Which led me to think that the problem was not that the hairdresser’s branding and marketing were faulty, but that the whole understanding of the topic for people who are not as invested enough to learn about it ‘the long way’ needs some adjusting.
Until then, us, the ever growing natural hair wearing community will educate one person at a time, within reasonable context of course. Hopefully each generation of black women and men (and their miniature versions) that follow ours can learn to take care of their hair as easily as learning any form of everyday hygiene practice, take pride in it and move through society with their giant hair held up high!
