Female Blazers with afro-textured hair explain their complex relationships with their tresses
Every few months, junior Claudia Allou decides to straighten her hair. Armed with a straightening iron and a brush, she shuts herself behind the bathroom door and goes to work. When she enters, her tightly coiled dark brown hair rests in a bun atop her head. When she emerges, her hair falls sleekly around her shoulders. In this state, with her mane tamed, Allou can leave the house with her hair out. For the next week or so, she doesn't have to worry about being treated like an animal in a petting zoo.
Allou's decision to straighten her afro-textured hair is one that she makes out of necessity and desire for personal space. She loves to wear her hair out in an afro, but wants to avoid an unfortunately common scenario: people touching her hair without asking permission and then getting offended when she attempts to object. "Sometimes I'll meet someone and then they'll ask, 'Can I touch your hair?' I would like to say no but then it's that awkward interaction when they look at me like, 'Oh, you're offended? How could you possibly be offended by this kind of question?'" Allou says.
Asking to touch someone's hair may seem like a simple request, but for black girls it's bigger than that. For Allou specifically, people asking to touch her hair or assuming that they can do so without permission presumes an ownership over her body that removes her bodily autonomy. "It feels like I have no power over my own body, because I feel like everyone else has a priority over my body. It feels very powerless,” Allou explains.
To some, the concept of having a complex relationship with one's hair is foreign, but for a lot of black women and girls it's more than their reality— it's a part of their identity.
Senior Emani Hears, who also wears her hair in locs, also identifies her hair as a source of growth, both figurative and literal in her life. "I believe my hair defines who I am today. It symbolizes my growth as both a person and a woman," she says. "Culturally, as a Jamaican, it shows I am proud of my heritage. Artistically, it shows that I am a free spirited person that loves to be different. Socially and spiritually, it is a representation of each moment in my life."
However, junior Grace Olawuni recognizes a paradigm where hair is used as a manner of controlling black women's femininity and identities. Olawuni argues that whether a woman is wearing her hair in
a protective style,
people find a way to make her feel bad about it. "When we have weave they tell us we're fake and then when we have our natural hair they tell us we're dirty…there's no in between, there's no okay for us," Olawuni says.
This is the idea from which the "natural hair movement" was born. Black people, specifically black women, have worn their hair in natural hairstyles for years, but the natural hair movement began around the 1960s in conjunction with the Black Power movement. The Black Power movement was one that emphasized black pride and a positive image of the black community. One of the ways it did so was by encouraging people to embrace their hair in its naturally curly state.
Allou personally finds the movement to be empowering and a source of pride. "I love the natural hair movement. Honestly, the curls are beautiful and I am proud that women of color are coming to a place where we want to wear our hair as it is," she gushes. "And we don't want to try to look like women with straight hair because we have to but because we have the choice to experiment."
Despite this experience, Hears asserts that she loves her hair. "I kept a promise to myself that I wouldn't allow anybody to discourage me from the choices that I made pertaining to my hair," she says.
For a lot of black women and girls, the relationship they have with their hair is probably one of the most important ones they'll have in their lives. Learning to love and embrace a piece of yourself that people have been characterizing negatively for generations is not an easy task. For Allou, Bishop, Hears and Olawuni, their hair is never just hair. Bishop sums it up simply: "Hair is important to black people."
Editor's Note: This story has been updated.
Neida Mbuia Joao. Welcome to SCO! I'm Neida (pronounced Neigh-duh) and I'm the online opinion editor for the site. My favorite pass-times include snacking, reading super dense novels and watching lots of television. Clearly I'm on track to become a vegetable. If so I'd like to be a ... More »