I am my hair. A shoulder length pile of sun-kissed waves, kinks, and ringlet ends. Breakage, split ends, dryness, and kinky roots. There is a myriad of textures, some natural, some “chemically enhanced.” My identity and growth are tied directly to my curly hair; struggles and feelings of uniqueness are woven through each strand. When I realized I had curly hair, everything changed.
At 6 years old, I only had the word “poofy” to describe my hair. With no time to spare on my unmanageable mane, my mother would brush-dry curls into pigtails, creating a frizzy mess. In school I learned to apologize because my hair was in the way of those sitting behind me. I did not look like the White girls with their straight hair, yet I did not look like the Black girls with their coarser curls and relaxed styles. I learned to view myself through my hair, and since no one else reflected my image, I never saw myself.
At 10 years old, I got my first chemical blowout granting me bone straight hair (as long as I kept inside, humidity was not easy to avoid in Florida). At school I was inundated with compliments about my straightened hair. I spent the next five years
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My locks loosened up and my wavy hair was considered exotic and beautiful. I piled on more chemical treatment on top of already chemically-treated hair, giving me wavy roots and straight ends. My hair was no longer a part of me. It was who I wanted to be perceived as, a mask I hid behind. My hair now gave me a label: I was seen as mixed. It was not until ninth grade that I realized I had been on a wild hunt searching for a label under which my hair fit. It was not White. It was not Black. I was not Mixed. Did I not fit under the label of Hispanic? Why was my ethnicity in question every time I looked in the mirror? I had to decide if I wanted kinky Afro hair which applied to my Cuban heritage or if I wanted to keep straightening my hair, killing a characteristic of my
The researcher interview with African American women with natural hair and examination of social media. The researchers explain that in the natural hair community a curl texture is more attractive than kinky hair texture and lengthier hair more desirable than short hair; also having manageable hair is dynamic to African American women’s effective performances of Black femininity. This research expands the discourse in African American Studies that theorizes the experiences of African American women with natural hair compared to those of African American women with relaxed hair such as perms (Howard, 2015, p.
In the late 1960s, the Afro hairstyles became a political statement, announcing, “I am black and proud” and challenged white aesthetics. This movement asked Black people to show their natural beauty without shame, spreading to the world that black is beautiful (BlackHistory.com). However, two decades later, this statement has slowly faded away and has been replaced by fake hair weaves and hair straightening chemical creams. Today, African Americans spend over half a trillion dollars on hair care and weaves, more than any other racial group. Majority of African American women do not feel the need to wear their hair naturally, and choose to chemically straighten their hair (Johnson & Bankhead, 2014).
But I often wondered if I would still be admired the same if I was an all-natural beauty with a thick ‘fro or would I be considered too ethnic and “ghetto” by my Long Island peers. When you have black hair, you are exposed to scrutiny and often questioned by white America about your professionalism and commented on by your own people saying you have “nappy hair or you need a perm”. Like Dubois’ theory of Double Consciousness I found myself stuck between my
Hair modification is a century old tradition for all ethnicities. The focus of this research paper will be the benefits of natural hair versus relaxed hair within the African American hair community. My position on this issue is that the natural state of hair is inherently better than the processed relaxed state of hair, even though African American women continue to relax their hair the outcome may be extreme.
Hair is a basic element of most of our lives, so to many, hair is a trivial thing. However, the fact that we live in a social climate that routinely rejects aspects of communities of color, hair has come to be an increasingly symbolic piece of our racial identities. This is especially true for the black community in the United States. After generations of countering Eurocentric ideologies surrounding acceptability, members of the black community are beginning to embrace the acceptance of their own images despite cultural messages that continue to promote the opposite. In an article written by Khalea Underwood of Refinery29, she chronicles her experiences with having her hair touched by a white
Many of them, including the hairstylists themselves, had hair that had been chemically altered either through texturing, perming, or coloring. The overall vibe of the environment was very friendly but there was still little interaction between the clients unless conversation was facilitated by the stylists. Much of the conversation surrounded personal life and school. One clients told me directly that she had thought about going natural but having straight hair is just easier and natural was too much maintenance. The same client explained that she had started to alter her hair’s original texture as a teenager because of peer influence. She said that she had gotten a jheri curl because, “that was the style everyone was wearing at the time”. Many others expressed similar sentiments about this same influence and also that they had been perming their hair for several years and were just comfortable with the style and the
There has been a notable amount of conversation on the internet on the rebirth of the natural hair movement. Cherise Luter (2014) states that despite afros and the natural hair movement not being a new concept (i.e. the Black Power Movement), it has gone under what she calls a “refreshing change”. Furthermore, what used to be “I’m black and I’m proud”, has been replaced with “I’m me and I’m proud” (Luter 2016). So, what is the natural hair movement? It is defined as a movement where black women decide to not conform to the social norms of chemically altering their hair and wearing it in its natural, kinky, or curled state (Joignot 2015). The movement could also be considered as an outlet for black women to display their racial and cultural pride or to articulate their “political position (Brown 2014:297). However, simply the terminology “movement” is something that should be shocking to many. There is a great amount of historical context behind the continuous influence Eurocentric beauty ideals have had on black women for centuries. According to Nadia Brown (2014), Black natural hair throughout history has proven to be recognized as “either unintended or intended personal and political statements” (298). the beauty standard in Western society which praises European hair textures, has influenced many black women to be critical of other black women who choose to chemically straighten their hair, accusing them of being subservient to the dominant and pervasive racist
Hair is a basic element of most of our lives, so to many, hair is a trivial thing. However, the fact that we live in a social climate that routinely rejects aspects of communities of color, hair has come to be an increasingly symbolic piece of our racial identities. This is especially true for the black community in the United States. After generations of countering Eurocentric ideologies surrounding acceptability, members of the black community are beginning to embrace the acceptance of their own images despite cultural messages that continue to promote the opposite. In an article written by Khalea Underwood of Refinery29, she chronicles her experiences with having her hair touched by a white woman at a Lady Gaga concert and the impact that experience had on her. As with any opinion piece, there was a vast range of comments that reflect the racialized context that we live in today. Amongst the comments, there was an overwhelming expression of color-blind ideologies and a couple instances of racial clear-sightedness found throughout the responses.
I remember a time when I was at my aunts house on my fathers side and I overheard her saying “ her parents has to do something to her hair” when I left the room. And my mothers side of the family was no better since they always suggested that i straighten my hair--even though i wasn't even in middle school yet. but as I grew older and slowly Felt less hostile towards my mixed background, i started to appreciate the many places j came from. I realize that this was a bow do that stemmed from uncertainty good myself. That nobody was telling me I wasn't good enough or worthy--but i was just unconsciously telling myself that.
Chris Rock’s documentary, Good Hair, investigates the notion of what good hair is. Dominant society views good hair as straight or essentially caucasian hair. This is not only problematic to the self-esteem and confidence of black women, but it can also cause black women to appropriate Asian culture. Black women unfortunately take advantage of Asian culture in search of what society believes is good hair. Many black women wear weaves in order to align to what society believes is good hair. However, when they buy this hair, they do not realize what Asians go through. Likewise, Asians who give up their hair do not know where or who this hair will be going to. Thus, this desire for good hair further perpetuates the lack of understanding that black
Since coming to America, I have moved to an ample amount of places because my father’s job concerns. I changed school frequently and in each new school I was never greeted with a warm welcome. With one glance my classmates saw I was different from them. I was often bullied and teased because of my racial difference from my classmates, from these experiences I became a quiet and docile girl. This way I thought I would not get in anyone’s way. I had closed up in the world in front of me; I never expressed my own opinions and always agreed with the majority. However secretly inside of me, I was frustrated not being able to express myself and yet I was unable to change. I craved to be what I was in the inside to be on the outside. Still by
When I came to college, I wore my hair in long, caramel ringlets, often with a faux rose clipped in the front. Within a few months, I donned a brushed-back undercut, frequently accompanied by my favorite button-down and bow tie. I worked out as I had before; although now my goal was to become stronger, not thinner. Soon, as many college students do, I became the proud owner of a permanent piece of body art. As I entered my journey to independence, I resisted the presentation of myself I felt obligated to adhere to in my
Naturally, during adolescence, I decided to test my independence, forge new boundaries, and find my personality. My hair was no different.
My hair has always been curly. When I was a small baby, my hair was black, thin, and there was TONS of it. It was quite the mess for my mother to handle, so she often just brushed it after my bath or let my hair go crazy on its own. Now that I am 17, bad habits have been formed, and I am currently working on demolishing them. I am trying to nourish my curls back to good health; after all, they have been through a lot. They went through the classic, middle school phase which consists of frying my hair with an overheated straightener every day. My historically luscious curls also went through a seven-hour salon session of bleaching, and barely survived the phase of putting my hair in tight buns on the top of my head. Needless to say, my hair is damaged, broken, and hurting. Getting it back to healthy, beautiful, and happy hair is going to be the biggest challenge of my lifetime.
You're probably thinking, “What's so special about having curly hair.” It’s not about how curly hair looks, it’s about how you created it. Because of being Hispanic, you can also get ethnic hair. My mother has wavy hair, my father is the one that has curly hair, but he's a guy, guys don’t have to do much to their hair. Girls on the other hand, is different. My mother never really knew how to style my curly hair so she let my hair do it’s own thing. When you get older, looks start to matter to you. I never loved my hair, but my mother never let me do anything to my hair that would damage it. I went to a not very diverse school, so my hair made me feel self conscious about myself, but my mother, and other women told me how beautiful my hair was, and how unique it was. I had to face the fact that, that’s how I was born and I had to suck it up. It took me lots of practice and phases with my hair. It took me 17 years to know how to deal with my hair, and i'm still learning but I’m finally content and happy with my ethnic