My hair is politicized, let’s talk about it!
If you’re not black, you likely know nothing about black hair and the experiences black women go through due to our hair unless 1) A black woman tells you because you asked or 2) Hair-based discrimination is reported on. This is going to be a partially factual, partially personal, and probably passive aggressive entry because recently, I’ve been going crazy thinking about the bullshit black women must deal with.
Here are some facts from the Harvard Business Review discussing this very topic.
- The CROWN Act provides protections against race-based hair bias. Only 20 states have adopted the legislation and hair discrimination is not prohibited at a federal level in the US
- Black women’s hair was 2.5x more likely to be perceived as unprofessional
- More than 50% of black women surveyed felt like they had to wear their hair straight in a job interview to be successful
- 2/3 reported they had changed their hair for a job interview
- 1/5 between the ages of 25-34 had been sent home from work because of their hair
My hair type is a mix between 4b and 4c. It’s tightly coiled, gets dry easily and sits in a short afro when dry due to shrinkage. Most of the year, my hair is in box braids because my hair is very thick and taxing to deal with so I’d rather it be dealt with for me. Convenience is everything, especially in the warm climate states where I’ve lived, and box braids have slowly become more “palatable” to white audiences so hip hip hooray for that. In case you’re unsure, that sentence was dripping in sarcasm. When my hair isn’t in box braids, I’ll twist it into little sections with gel and then after a day, I’ll take down the twist out so that my hair is stretched. This means my hair appears less tightly coiled and looks a little longer. I do this because sporting a typical afro invites so many biases that are exhausting to entertain. It’s mentally debilitating.
Playing dress up has always been fun but dealing with my hair has been a major point of stress since childhood. Growing up in the white suburbs of Houston, that stress was magnified. I’ve said since I was very young “If my hair doesn’t look the way I want, I’m having a bad day.” That is in no manner an exaggeration. I can recount tens of instances across my lifetime that I’ve had a breakdown in the morning, eyes brimming with tears and hands shaking in frustration, because my hair wasn’t doing “what I wanted it to.” But that’s the thing. What I want is deeply shaped by societal standards and if I were to wear my hair untouched and no product, unfortunately my self-esteem would plummet. It feels like the world only likes Black hair when it’s altered in some fashion. Either I spend copious amounts of time and hundreds annually on my hair or I spend no time at all and receive different treatment from peers, potential bosses and strangers. It’s the “Would you rather?” question of the century.
While I’ve gotten into a good routine between box braids and giving my natural hair a break, the anxiety now occurs when I want to get creative and change my braiding style. I had the same straight, black, boob length style for over six years of my life. After intense deliberation, I decided to get ginger braids that were longer with curls my junior fall of college. I was extremely worried about the change, but the decision paid off. The color 30 really suits my skin tone, the curls are a fun addition and I feel really confident with this style. This summer, I’m debating trying something new. I’ve been seeing more cornrow style braids that I like on other girls, but I hated cornrows as a child, and I’m terrified I still do. My box braids usually cost $220 plus tip and the money it costs to buy the necessary extension hair. My hair takes 5 hours to braid which means I spend almost $300 every 3 months and 20 hours yearly in a chair getting my hair braided. So, you can understand why trying a new style is dangerous. If I try it and hate it, I’ll have to take the braids down, which takes another 5 hours, and then spend even more money to do a style I like. I do love wearing braids, but I can’t help but wonder if my hair wasn’t so policed, would I love them as much?
Some random asides and my personal takes. “Can I touch your hair?” Do not ask. The answer is almost always no. On the rare chance it’s a “Sure”, never ask again. It’s strange. “Is your hair real?” Yes, no, maybe. Why the hell is it any of your business? Have you ever asked a non-black woman that? Obviously not. Fuck off. Also, professionalism in the workplace is based in racial stereotypes rooted in (ding, ding, ding) white supremacy! If you plan to be a boss or leader in any workplace across any industry, I deeply implore you to do the active work necessary towards dismantling systems of discrimination, hair-based and otherwise. Please and thank you.
A final word. Be polite, of course, but ask questions! If we (black women) want to answer, we will. If we don’t and your curiosity is genuine, Google, YouTube and Tiktok exist. At the end of the day, black women don’t owe you anything. We did not ask to become your teacher and we shouldn’t have to. Okay. This leaned more aggressive than passive as I continued to write, but this can be exhausting to talk about so excuse me if my patience wears thin. Mwah!
Related Articles
How Hair Discrimination Affects Black Women at Work (hbr.org)
The Person Beneath the Hair: Hair Discrimination, Health, and Well-Being - PMC (nih.gov)
