Growing up, I did not like my hair. I wanted a long flowing mane like the girls (usually white) that I saw on television. It didn’t help matters that I grew up during the age of perming and pressing. In Jamaica, as I remember it, for a lot of households, pressed hair was a symbol of girlhood and, in extreme cases, a symbol of becoming a woman. To have straight, long hair was beauty. If you didn’t have it, you fell short of the standard. And of course, the closer you were to the standard, the more beautiful you were considered. Having a severe problem with self-esteem, you can only imagine the psychological damage this caused my young mind. It wasn’t until my mother went natural that I started to see the beauty in my own hair. As a young person I idolized everything my mother did and hair was no exception. However, even when her hair was straightened, my mother forced me to keep my hair natural and to accept it, and I can say I am glad she made me do so. Here are some of the experiences I, and others with natural hair around me, grew up with – the good and the bad.
People assumed you would eventually straighten your hair.
One of the questions I would get asked was, “When are you going to straighten your hair?” Not if (and we can argue whether this should even be asked at all), but when. People would say things like, “You’d look pretty with straight hair.” My mom told me that when people said this to me, I should ask them, “Do I not look pretty now?” to shut them up. The problem is, I was never a feisty child, and so the anger would slowly build, and before I was angry enough to say anything, the moment would have passed, and all I would be left with is the strong regret of not having said anything at all. I even had a black friend tell me she did not like her hair when it was natural (hers was permed) and asked when I would perm mine. Instead of being proud of the fact that I had virgin hair, I decided to make excuses. “Oh, my hair is thin and relaxers may not agree with it, so I’m waiting until I can afford good relaxers before I do anything.” It was ridiculous, really. I did this up until 11th grade which was when my mom went natural.
On looking “professional”/ Defining “classy.”
Now that I am in college this concern looms over me. What if those who I am interviewing with do not consider the hair I was born with, braids, or head wraps as professional? What do I do then? I don’t want to have to perm my hair for a paycheck. Nor do I want to only wear wigs to satisfy the short-sighted world-view of whatever company I will be working for. I simply want to wear my hair as it is and be able to eat at the same time. If I rebel and don’t do what they want, I have a risk of losing my job (if I can even get one). If I do what they say, then I perpetuate the image of black hair as being unkempt and unpleasing to the eye. In my younger days, I used to also think this way when someone would mention the word classy. I came to realize that “classy” has always had Western, Eurocentric connotations. I no longer feel this way. I think wearing my hair natural adds something to the term “classy” that could not have been there before, and that’s fine with me. However, I must admit that the “professional” part still bothers me.
“Do you have any products for natural hair?”
This one has got to be the most annoying thing in mundane black life. I remember walking into ULTA and asking the beautician if he had any products for natural hair. He chirpily answered in the affirmative and pointed to the aisle where I assumed a myriad of natural hair products would be only to find one line – Carol’s Daughter. Even when I asked him if he had anymore products, he kept saying yes and pointing to the same aisle. I don’t think people realize that if non-black people want a variety of hair products, then black people do as well. It really isn’t that hard. If you walked into a store and all they had was Pantene, you’d be upset. If I walk into a store and see one brand for natural hair, I also get upset. No hair is created the same and no natural hair is the same either. Pantene is great for some people, and not for others. Carol’s Daughter is great for others, but not for me. Should I then be impressed with a half-hearted effort at having a variety of hair products? It is sad that Wal-Mart and Target do a better job of having a variety of hair products for naturals than a beauty supply store (and even with Wal-Mart and Target, if you aren’t in an area with a large black population, it will be hard to find a variety of natural hair products).
“Can I touch it?”
This is the one thing non-black people seem extremely confused about. I personally, regardless of race or ethnicity, allow my friends to touch my hair because they are just that: my friends. That is what friends do. They have earned that right. I braid my friends’ hair, they braid mine, regardless of who they are. However, random people do not have a right to touch someone out of curiosity. It’s common decency: you don’t touch people you don’t know. This unwritten rule can’t simply be lifted because you are curious and can’t control yourself. This is especially irritating if the person spent time on their hair and you mess it up. If you are complimenting the person on how nice their hair looks, there is a very high chance that they don’t want you to touch it and mess it up. It’s not that hard to ask, and even then, it is a little rude just to ask someone you don’t know to touch them, isn’t it?
Natural hair, ethnic hair or neither?
Both these names are a problem, aren’t they? In all technicalities, everyone has “natural hair.” Black people aren’t the only ones who process their hair, so it is a little odd to regulate this term only to fit black people. It is the same with ethnic hair. There are ethnicities within every race, and somehow the pluralistic term suddenly fits the demographic of black people alone. I feel that it would just be easier to have an aisle for hair care and make sure to just include a variety of products. This might be helpful because it isn’t only black people who use natural hair products. People of different backgrounds with curly hair, for example, also use natural hair products. To have an aisle marked “natural” or “ethnic” hair is rather exclusive and just ridiculous because it creates a monolithic idea of what hair and people can be. It is a chronic case of making change seem harder than it really is. Besides, stores will save on resources when they don’t have to make so many signs to segregate hair products.
The self-hate war needs to stop.
I am not talking about black people having self-hate. That gets spoken about enough. I am speaking of black people who throw the term “self-hate” around every chance they get to build new divisions. The fact is, while some things in life are evident through actions, you can’t see into the mind of someone or know whether they have self-hate, so stop accusing people of having it. There are plenty of people with permed hair that love being black more than those with natural hair. I am a strong case in point. My mom never had a problem going natural because she loved her hair in any state it was. I, on the other hand, had natural hair and on the outside appeared all “black-loving” but was not. Also, by doing this, you relegate black people to walking political signs. We are humans too; if a white person with curly hair can hate that about themselves and have to overcome it and is allowed the space to overcome it, black people should be able to do the same.
Now, that I have accepted my natural hair, I can’t even bear the thought of having a long flowing mane falling all over me. I now have braids for the first time, and though I love them and would do them again, I can’t wait to touch my hair and style it in my “baby buns.” I personally see the hair I once wanted as quite dull and a lot more work than I want for myself.
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