Afro hair is a force to be reckoned with– some of my earliest battles have been between me and a comb. To this day the skin between my ear and face is marked crisp due to a straightener that flew too close to the sun. I have core memories of sitting on the ground, neck crooked in unnatural ways, with my mother’s comb digging its way through my head (if not my mother, a family friend or a woman whose accent reminds me of home).
I am sure many of my peers can relate to this.
Our hair is delicate, as most prized possessions are. The weather acts as one of our greatest foes, dictating how safe it is to enter the public domain. Protective styles such as box braids, locs, and wigs come to the rescue in our time of need. These styles also protect us from over manipulation that may hinder hair growth. Straightening is another style that black women choose to wear.
I love the possibilities these styles bring. Color is my agent of choice when it comes to creativity, but there are many ways these styles can be manipulated.
Appearances matter. How we chose to express ourselves tells a story before we even begin to speak. I adore the use of protective styles for either expression or hair retention. However, the overreliance of these styles is most definitely a problem.
I will admit I find convenience in getting my hair braided. Especially as it allows me to experiment with things I would not consider doing with my natural hair (e.g color). The switch from straightening my hair to braided styles offers me some extra free time in the morning. Consequently, I grew accustomed to wearing my hair in braids, sparingly sharing my natural beauty to the world.
I was no longer protecting my hair, but protecting myself from an insecurity woven in silver strands. I was not addressing the insecurity that existing as a rarity in my hometown had caused me. Instead, I was feeding into the lies white supremacy had fed me. It is easy to grow self-conscious when surrounded by white peers, which was my experience for most of my youth.
Protective styles had begun to act as double agents— performing as both savior and oppressor. Saving me from the commitment that comes from taking care of the hair gifted to me, while instilling insecurity and ideas of white supremacy. These styles, though with the original intent of maintaining healthy hair, have become a way for some to avoid the time it takes to love our hair.
Claiming that black women should wear their hair naturally more often would not be a complete critique. In my experience, straightened hair or protective styles are perceived as mature and more clean than our natural hair. At special events it is assumed by peers and elders that our hair stays tucked away. The usage of wigs, braids, or heat is preferred to the coiled texture of our natural beauty.
Beauty is a social currency. People, specifically women, are aware that our perceived value is often tied to our looks. Respectability is in the eye of the beholder. For a lot of young women navigating self-acceptance, the workplace, and social events it can be conflicting choosing between socially accepted curated ideas of beauty and our natural selves.
This does not mean black women do not love our hair, however I believe we are not always genuinely appreciated.
Even when natural hair is uplifted, white approval is often written between the lines. This is shown in the obsession with length, smooth edges, and defined curls. I believe this is related to the intersection of blackness and womanhood. Womanhood and femininity are often associated with images of loose curls, light skin and long hair. Blackness does not fit into this mold. This causes a gap between black women and our femininity as we do not see ourselves represented in modern ideas of womanhood.
We need to work to rid ourselves of the white gaze– stripping ourselves of the way society has socialized to view ourselves. Racial uplift has to be more than just verbally affirming ourselves, it must be putting in the work to make choices that affirm us.
I am a firm advocate for choice, but I believe choice without critical thinking can be quite disastrous. We need to spend more time critically analyzing the reasoning behind the choices that we make to truly create change in our community.
I am still learning how to balance the joy in expression and the importance of authenticity. I am still pushing myself to extend the time between salon visits.
It has been a long road to loving my hair, and perhaps I am still on this journey, but I can confidently say it is worth every moment.