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Beauty, Black Hair, Good Hair, hair textures, History of Black Hair

Why Don’t You Do Something With Your Hair? Hair Politics in the Black Community.

Photo by Osmar Vasques on Pexels.com

The question “Why don’t you do something with your hair?” carries weight far beyond casual conversation. It reflects the long, complicated history of hair politics within the Black community, where hair is not merely aesthetic but deeply tied to identity, culture, and social status. The question assumes that the natural hair that grows out of a Black woman’s scalp is insufficient, needing alteration to be considered beautiful or presentable. This dilemma plays out daily in salons, workplaces, and even among friends, revealing the enduring tension between assimilation and authenticity.

Hair politics in the Black community have roots that trace back to pre-colonial Africa. African hairstyles once symbolized tribe, social rank, marital status, and even spiritual beliefs (Byrd & Tharps, 2014). Intricate braids, twists, and natural textures were celebrated as markers of identity and belonging. This changed dramatically during the transatlantic slave trade. Enslaved Africans were often forced to shave their heads, stripping them of cultural identity and dignity (White & White, 1998). This dehumanizing act laid the groundwork for centuries of stigma against African hair textures.

During slavery and later segregation, Eurocentric beauty standards dominated. Straight hair was viewed as a marker of respectability and proximity to whiteness. Many Black women began straightening their hair as a means of survival, using hot combs and later chemical relaxers to fit into white society’s expectations (Rooks, 1996). This survival strategy was both empowering—opening doors to employment and social acceptance—and damaging, as it subtly communicated that natural hair was unkempt or undesirable.

This tension birthed the concept of “good hair” versus “bad hair.” “Good hair” was typically defined as straighter, looser, and more European-like, while “bad hair” referred to tightly coiled, kinky textures. This language continues to shape how Black girls grow up viewing themselves. The woman in the store who questioned another’s natural fro echoed centuries of conditioning that privileges one texture over another.

Biblically, this judgment contradicts the affirmation of divine creation. Psalm 139:14 (KJV) declares, “I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works.” If God made hair textures diverse, then natural Black hair is good by design. The cultural insistence on altering hair to be acceptable reflects a deeper issue of internalized oppression rather than divine truth.

Hair also became a political statement during the Civil Rights and Black Power movements of the 1960s and 1970s. The Afro emerged as a symbol of pride, rebellion, and resistance against white supremacy. To wear one’s hair in its natural state became an act of defiance and self-acceptance. Angela Davis famously wore her iconic Afro as both a personal choice and a political statement, making natural hair synonymous with the fight for liberation (Davis, 1981).

However, as mainstream culture commodified Black style, the natural hair movement lost some of its radical edge. The emergence of weaves, wigs, and chemical relaxers in the 1980s and 1990s introduced new standards of glamour and professionalism. While these styles offered versatility and creative expression, they also reinforced the idea that natural hair was only acceptable if controlled or hidden.

Celebrities have weighed in on this hair dilemma, often sparking debate. Viola Davis removed her wig on the hit show How to Get Away With Murder in a powerful scene that revealed her natural hair, stating in interviews that she wanted to normalize textured hair on television (Dockterman, 2014). Solange Knowles has also been vocal about the politics of natural hair, penning the song “Don’t Touch My Hair” as an anthem of autonomy and identity.

On the other side, some celebrities have been criticized for perpetuating Eurocentric beauty ideals. Rapper Lil’ Kim and others who have dramatically lightened their skin and straightened their hair have been accused of reflecting the deep scars of colorism and texturism. These choices are not simply personal but political, given the influence celebrities have on shaping beauty standards.

Workplace politics also play a major role in the natural-versus-straight hair conversation. For years, natural hairstyles such as locs, braids, and twists were deemed “unprofessional” in many corporate environments. It wasn’t until the passing of laws like the CROWN Act (2019) that discrimination against natural hairstyles began to be legally challenged in several U.S. states. This shows that hair policing is not just cultural but institutional.

The debate over natural hair versus weaves or wigs is complex. On one hand, weaves allow Black women to experiment with style, color, and length without damaging their natural hair. On the other, they can become a crutch if they are used to hide self-hatred or avoid confronting the stigma against natural textures. The key issue is not the style chosen but the motivation behind it—whether it flows from freedom or from shame.

Mentally, constant scrutiny over hair can lead to stress and self-esteem issues. Black girls as young as five report feeling pressured to straighten their hair for special occasions or school pictures (Opie & Phillips, 2015). This teaches them early that their natural state is less acceptable, planting seeds of insecurity that can take years to unlearn.

Spiritually, the church can play a role in affirming natural hair. Unfortunately, some church communities have perpetuated respectability politics by favoring women with straightened hair or wigs, especially in leadership roles. This contradicts the biblical principle in 1 Peter 3:3-4 (KJV), which states that beauty should not merely be about “plaiting the hair” or outward adornment but about “the hidden man of the heart.” This verse calls believers to focus on character rather than conformity to beauty standards.

The natural hair movement of the 21st century has made significant strides in reversing stigma. Social media platforms like Instagram and YouTube have created spaces for Black women to share tips, tutorials, and encouragement for embracing natural curls and coils. This digital sisterhood has birthed a new generation of women who proudly wear their afros, twist-outs, and locs as declarations of self-love.

Nevertheless, the pressure to conform to a certain standard of natural hair perfection—“curl envy”—has emerged as a new form of hair politics. Women with looser curl patterns are often celebrated more in natural hair campaigns than those with tighter coils, revealing that even within the movement, hierarchies still exist.

The Politics, Pain, and Power of Black Hair

I was standing in line at a neighborhood store when I overheard two women talking. One wore a sleek weave, carefully laid edges, and perfectly straightened strands; the other rocked a short, natural fro. With a laugh, the first woman asked, “Girl, why don’t you do something with your hair?” The second woman smiled politely, but her face betrayed the familiar sting that so many Black women know too well. That small exchange speaks volumes about the history and politics of Black hair — a history that stretches from the villages of West Africa to the plantations of the Americas, from the barbershops and beauty salons of the Jim Crow era to the hashtags and viral videos of today.

Hair has never been just hair for Black people. In pre-colonial Africa, hair was identity. Styles communicated tribe, social status, fertility, and even spiritual meaning (Byrd & Tharps, 2014). To cut someone’s hair was to humiliate them, stripping away dignity. Enslavers understood this, which is why many Africans brought to the Americas had their heads forcibly shaved, severing a crucial connection to their homeland (White & White, 1998). This trauma planted the seed for centuries of stigma against African textures.

In America, Black hair became a site of both survival and rebellion. For many, straightening hair was a way to gain access to jobs, education, and respectability in a white-dominated society (Rooks, 1996). The hot comb, famously popularized by Madam C.J. Walker, was both a tool of empowerment and a symbol of assimilation. “My grandmother told me that straightening her hair helped her get her first job as a teacher,” said Sharon, 62, in an interview. “But she also told me she always felt like she was wearing a mask.”

The language of “good hair” versus “bad hair” emerged from these survival tactics. “Good hair” was associated with looser, straighter textures — often linked to mixed ancestry — while “bad hair” was used to describe kinky, coily textures. “I grew up in the 90s, and my aunties would sigh whenever I wore my hair natural,” said Angela, 33. “They would say, ‘We gotta do something with this nappy mess.’ It made me feel like who I was naturally was a problem to be fixed.”

Biblically, this tension challenges what Scripture teaches about God’s creation. Genesis 1:31 (KJV) declares, “And God saw every thing that he had made, and, behold, it was very good.” If every hair texture is created by God, then none can be deemed “bad.” Psalm 139:14 reminds us that we are “fearfully and wonderfully made.” To degrade natural hair is to deny the Creator’s artistry.

The Civil Rights and Black Power era redefined hair politics. The Afro became a crown of pride and a political statement. “When I wear my Afro, I am making a statement that I am Black and proud,” Angela Davis wrote (Davis, 1981). To wear one’s hair naturally was to reject assimilation and embrace African identity. This was a time when hair became activism — the body itself was a protest sign.

But as the decades passed, relaxers, weaves, and wigs became mainstream again. For some, this was a matter of convenience and creative expression. For others, it was a return to old pressures to conform. “I love my weave because I can switch up my look,” said Monique, 27, during a focus group. “But I also hate that people assume I don’t love myself when I wear it. It’s not that — I just like the versatility.”

The natural hair movement of the 2010s reignited the call for authenticity. YouTube vloggers and Instagram influencers created a renaissance of tutorials, hair care tips, and motivational content celebrating curls, coils, and kinks. Yet, even within the natural hair community, hierarchies emerged. Looser curl patterns (3A–3C) were celebrated more prominently than tightly coiled textures (4B–4C), leading to what some call “texturism” (Robinson, 2011).

Celebrities have weighed in powerfully on the conversation. Viola Davis’s decision to remove her wig on How to Get Away with Murder was more than just a TV moment — it was a cultural reset. “I wanted to humanize her,” Davis explained. “And part of that is letting her be who she really is — natural hair and all” (Dockterman, 2014). Solange Knowles, in her song “Don’t Touch My Hair,” transformed her experience of unwanted hair-policing into an anthem of bodily autonomy.

Despite these victories, discrimination remains a reality. Studies show that Black women with natural hairstyles are often rated as less professional or less competent in corporate settings (Opie & Phillips, 2015). The passage of the CROWN Act (2019) in multiple U.S. states is a step toward protecting Black hair from workplace discrimination — but the cultural bias runs deep.

The question “Why don’t you do something with your hair?” carries an assumption: that natural hair is undone, messy, or unacceptable. But natural hair is done the moment it grows from the scalp. It does not need fixing to be valid. Romans 12:2 (KJV) reminds us, “Be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind.” Breaking free from the belief that straight is the only acceptable form is a mental and spiritual renewal.

Healing hair trauma requires unlearning generations of internalized shame. “I had to stop calling my daughter’s hair ‘difficult,’” said Candace, 40. “Now I tell her it’s beautiful, full, and strong — just like her.” This kind of language shift is revolutionary. It teaches young girls that their hair is a source of pride, not a burden.

There is also space for freedom of choice. Some women wear wigs or relaxers not out of shame but for self-expression. The issue is not the style but the root motivation. Galatians 5:1 (KJV) declares, “Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free.” Freedom in Christ includes freedom from the bondage of beauty standards — whether those standards push toward assimilation or prescribe a rigid idea of “natural purity.”

The politics of hair also affect men, though they are often left out of the conversation. Dreadlocks, cornrows, and afros on Black men have been criminalized, labeled as unkempt or threatening. Celebrities like J. Cole and Bob Marley used their hair as political and spiritual statements, reminding the world that natural hair is not just style but identity.

Moving forward, education is key. Schools, churches, and community spaces must normalize the full spectrum of Black hair. Representation in media matters — children need to see characters who look like them wearing braids, locs, fros, and curls with confidence and beauty.

Ultimately, the woman in the store who questioned the natural fro was voicing a generational script — one we must now rewrite. By embracing natural hair as inherently good, by affirming every style chosen freely, and by dismantling the good-hair/bad-hair dichotomy, the Black community can heal from centuries of hair trauma.

In the end, the question is no longer “Why don’t you do something with your hair?” but “What will we do with the legacy of hair politics?” Will we pass down shame or pass down pride? Will we perpetuate Eurocentric hierarchies or celebrate the God-given diversity of our crowns? The choice is ours — and it is time to choose freedom.

Healing from hair politics requires both internal and communal work. Internally, Black women must embrace that their hair—whatever its texture—is inherently good and worthy of care. Communally, there must be a shift in language, moving away from “good hair” and “bad hair” to affirming the full spectrum of textures as beautiful.

Parents play a critical role in shaping hair identity. Teaching young girls to love their hair early on, letting them see positive representations of their texture in books, movies, and social media, helps inoculate them against the pressures they will face. Such affirmation can prevent the painful moment when a stranger or even a friend asks, “Why don’t you do something with your hair?”

In conclusion, hair politics in the Black community are both a burden and an opportunity. The burden lies in centuries of stigma and division, but the opportunity lies in reclaiming hair as a site of freedom, creativity, and identity. When a woman chooses a fro, a weave, braids, or a bald head from a place of self-love, she resists the narrative that her natural state is not enough. By rooting our worth in biblical truth and affirming the diversity of Black beauty, the Black community can end the cycle of judgment and instead celebrate the crown that God has given.

References

  • Byrd, A., & Tharps, L. (2014). Hair story: Untangling the roots of Black hair in America (2nd ed.). St. Martin’s Press.
  • Davis, A. (1981). Women, race, & class. Vintage Books.
  • Dockterman, E. (2014, October 17). Viola Davis explains why she took off her wig on How to Get Away With Murder. TIME.
  • Opie, T., & Phillips, K. W. (2015). Hair penalties: The negative influence of Afrocentric hair on ratings of Black women’s dominance and professionalism. Frontiers in Psychology, 6, 1311.
  • Rooks, N. (1996). Hair raising: Beauty, culture, and African American women. Rutgers University Press.
  • White, S., & White, G. (1998). Slave hair and African American culture in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Journal of Southern History, 63(1), 45–76.

Black Hair, Good Hair, hair, hair textures, History of Black Hair, natural hair, The Hair Diaries

The Hair Diaries: The Myth of Good Hair

The idea of “good hair” is a myth rooted not in biology or beauty, but in power. Hair, in all its textures, is a natural extension of the human body, growing exactly as it was designed to grow. No strand that emerges from a healthy scalp is bad, defective, or inferior. Scripture affirms that God’s creation is intentional and good in every form (Genesis 1:31, KJV).

The “good hair versus bad hair” narrative emerged from colonialism and slavery, not from truth. European features were elevated as the standard of beauty, while African features were devalued to justify domination. Hair texture became a visible marker used to rank humanity along racial lines (Byrd & Tharps, 2014).

During slavery, hair texture was tied to social survival. Straighter hair was associated with proximity to whiteness and, in some cases, less brutal treatment. This produced a hierarchy within Black communities that persists today, even though its origin is rooted in trauma rather than preference.

Coily, kinky, and tightly curled hair was labeled “excessive” because it resisted assimilation. It could not easily conform to European grooming norms without chemical or mechanical alteration. Resistance, not inferiority, is what made this hair political.

Biologically, coily hair is a marvel of design. Its spiral structure helps protect the scalp from intense sun exposure and reduces heat absorption. These textures evolved as an adaptive strength, not a flaw (Jablonski, 2015).

Black hair also demonstrates incredible versatility. It can be braided, twisted, loc’d, coiled, stretched, sculpted, wrapped, and worn free. Few hair types carry such cultural, artistic, and functional range.

Historically, African hairstyles communicated age, marital status, tribe, spirituality, and social role. Hair was language before colonization disrupted these systems. To demean Black hair is to demean African knowledge systems (Thompson, 1983).

The hatred directed toward Black hair often reflects fear of difference rather than aesthetic judgment. What cannot be controlled is often labeled unprofessional, wild, or inappropriate. This language exposes anxiety, not truth.

The Bible does not rank hair textures. Scripture emphasizes modesty, order, and reverence—not conformity to Eurocentric appearance. God looks at the heart, not the curl pattern (1 Samuel 16:7, KJV).

Black hair has been policed in schools, workplaces, and public spaces, revealing how deeply the myth of “good hair” is institutionalized. Laws like the CROWN Act exist because natural hair was treated as a threat to order rather than a neutral human trait.

The pressure to alter Black hair has often been framed as professionalism. Yet professionalism is a social construct shaped by those in power. Hair that grows naturally from the head cannot be unprofessional by nature.

Internalized hair bias is one of the most painful legacies of colonialism. When Black children learn to dislike their own hair, it is not personal insecurity but inherited harm. Healing begins with truth-telling and affirmation.

Speaking positively about Black hair is not exclusionary; it is corrective. Affirmation restores balance where distortion has reigned. Celebrating Black hair does not diminish other hair types—it ends false hierarchy.

Coily hair teaches patience, care, and attentiveness. It thrives when treated gently and intentionally. This relationship fosters self-awareness and self-respect rather than shame.

The Bible describes God as a creator of diversity, not uniformity. If variety glorifies God in nature, it also glorifies Him in human appearance (Psalm 104:24, KJV).

The myth of “good hair” survives because it benefits systems that profit from insecurity. Entire industries were built on convincing Black people that their natural hair needed correction.

Black hair is not a trend, a rebellion, or a statement—it is a reality. Its presence does not require justification or explanation. It simply exists because God designed it to.

When Black people wear their hair freely, it is an act of self-acceptance, not defiance. Freedom should not be mistaken for aggression.

Restoring reverence for Black hair is part of restoring dignity. What was once mocked is now being reclaimed, not as fashion, but as truth.

All hair that grows from the head is good hair. Coily hair is not excessive; it is expressive. Kinky hair is not unmanageable; it is powerful. Curly hair is not a problem to solve, but a gift to honor.

The myth of good hair collapses when truth stands upright. Black hair needs no permission to exist beautifully—it already does.

References

Byrd, A. D., & Tharps, L. L. (2014). Hair story: Untangling the roots of Black hair in America. St. Martin’s Press.

Jablonski, N. G. (2015). Skin color: A natural history. University of California Press.

Thompson, R. F. (1983). Flash of the spirit: African and Afro-American art and philosophy. Vintage Books.

The Holy Bible, King James Version (Genesis 1:31; 1 Samuel 16:7; Psalm 104:24).

Black Hair, black-hair, hair, History of Black Hair

Black Women and Hair Activism: From Nappy Roots to #BlackGirlMagic

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Hair has always been a central marker of identity, culture, and resistance for Black women. From the era of slavery, where enslaved women were forced to conform to Eurocentric beauty standards, to the modern-day #BlackGirlMagic movement, hair has served as both a site of oppression and empowerment. Hair activism represents a form of social and political engagement, challenging systemic discrimination while affirming Black women’s cultural identity.

Historical Context: Slavery and Eurocentric Standards

During slavery in the Americas, Black women were often compelled to alter their natural hair to fit European ideals of beauty, sometimes being shaved or chemically straightened (Byrd & Tharps, 2014). These practices symbolized a broader attempt to erase African identity and enforce subservience, embedding the politics of hair into social hierarchies.

The Civil Rights Era and Nappy Roots

The 1960s and 1970s saw a rise in natural hair as a political statement. The Afro became a symbol of pride, resistance, and Black identity, captured in the phrase “Black is beautiful.” Movements like Nappy Roots (both the cultural reference and musical group) emphasized embracing natural hair, celebrating Black aesthetics, and challenging societal norms.

Workplace and Legal Activism

Despite cultural shifts, Black women continue to face discrimination for natural hairstyles in professional and educational settings. Legal efforts, such as the CROWN Act (Creating a Respectful and Open World for Natural Hair) in the U.S., address hair-based discrimination and underscore the ongoing struggle for equity (Tharps, 2019). Hair activism thus extends beyond aesthetics—it’s about civil rights and self-determination.

The Rise of #BlackGirlMagic

In the 2010s, movements like #BlackGirlMagic and natural hair communities online created global spaces celebrating Black women’s hair, beauty, and accomplishments. Social media platforms have enabled activism, awareness, and community-building, empowering women to reclaim agency over their hair and identity.

Hair as Resistance and Empowerment

Hair activism encompasses education, advocacy, and personal empowerment. For Black women, embracing natural hair is not just an aesthetic choice but a political act, affirming self-worth and resisting systemic bias. It communicates pride, autonomy, and a refusal to conform to oppressive standards.

Psychology and Identity

Research indicates that hair significantly impacts self-esteem and identity formation among Black women (Banks, 2000). Wearing natural hairstyles or participating in hair activism is linked to higher self-confidence, stronger cultural identity, and resistance to internalized oppression.

Conclusion

From Nappy Roots to #BlackGirlMagic, Black hair activism reflects a dynamic intersection of culture, politics, and identity. By embracing natural hair and challenging societal norms, Black women assert autonomy, demand respect, and celebrate their heritage, transforming a personal expression into a collective movement for empowerment.

References

  • Banks, I. (2000). Hair matters: Beauty, power, and Black women’s consciousness. New York: NYU Press.
  • Byrd, A., & Tharps, L. (2014). Hair Story: Untangling the Roots of Black Hair in America. St. Martin’s Press.
  • Tharps, L. L. (2019). The CROWN Act: Natural Hair, Discrimination, and Social Change. Harvard Journal of African American Public Policy, 1(1), 45–60.
  • Robinson, T. (2018). Social media and Black hair activism: #BlackGirlMagic and the politics of identity. Journal of Black Studies, 49(7), 657–676.
  • Tate, S. A. (2007). Hair and the politics of Black women’s identity. Cultural Studies, 21(5), 641–655.

Black Hair, Good Hair, hair, hair textures, racism

Hair, Politics, and Respectability: The Crown We Never Asked For

Hair has never been “just hair” for Black people. In societies shaped by colonialism and racism, Black hair—especially its natural textures—has been politicized, stigmatized, and controlled. The title Hair, Politics, and Respectability: The Crown We Never Asked For captures this tension: while hair is a natural inheritance, it has become a symbol of identity, resistance, and discrimination. From biblical reflections to modern psychology, the struggle over Black hair reveals both the resilience of a people and the weight of systemic oppression.

Hair and Politics: Why Texture Became a Battleground

During slavery, Black hair was ridiculed as “woolly,” “unkempt,” or “inferior” compared to European textures. Enslaved women were often forced to cover their hair with scarves, stripping them of cultural expression. In the twentieth century, straightening became associated with “respectability,” as Eurocentric beauty standards were used to determine professionalism, employability, and social acceptance (Byrd & Tharps, 2014). Hair became political because it signified whether one conformed to dominant norms or resisted them.

Even today, workplace and school policies ban natural styles such as locs, afros, and braids, framing them as “unprofessional.” This reveals how deeply Eurocentric aesthetics are embedded in institutional power structures. Black hair is not bad—it is the perception of it, shaped by systemic racism, that weaponizes it against Black people.

Media Examples of Hair Discrimination

  • Gabrielle Union (2019): The actress revealed that she was criticized on America’s Got Talent for her hairstyles being “too Black” for mainstream audiences.
  • Zendaya (2015): At the Oscars, a TV host insulted her locs, suggesting they made her smell like “weed or patchouli oil,” perpetuating stereotypes about natural Black hair.
  • Ayanna Pressley (2020): The U.S. Congresswoman openly discussed the politics of her hair after revealing her alopecia, highlighting the burden Black women face regarding appearance.
  • Students Nationwide: Numerous cases have emerged of Black children suspended or excluded from schools for wearing natural hairstyles—demonstrating how hair policing begins in childhood.

These examples show that hair is treated not as personal expression but as a battleground of social acceptance.

Why Is Black Hair Considered “Bad”?

  1. Colonial Legacies: European colonizers ranked African features as inferior to justify slavery and subjugation. Hair texture became part of this false hierarchy.
  2. Respectability Politics: Within Black communities, straightened hair was sometimes encouraged as a survival strategy, signaling assimilation to reduce discrimination.
  3. Media Reinforcement: Advertisements and entertainment long centered straight hair as the default “beautiful,” erasing the diversity of Black textures.
  4. Psychological Control: By stigmatizing natural hair, systems of power sought to strip Black people of cultural pride and self-love.

Psychological Dimensions of Hair Politics

Hair discrimination carries profound psychological effects. Research shows that Black women who feel pressure to conform to Eurocentric hairstyles report higher stress levels, body image struggles, and identity conflict (Robinson, 2011). Natural hair movements—such as the resurgence of afros in the 1970s and the current embrace of locs, twists, and braids—function as acts of resistance and self-acceptance. For Black children, representation is vital: being punished for natural hair fosters shame and internalized racism, while affirmation builds resilience and pride.

Biblical Reflections on Hair and Identity

The Bible addresses hair as both symbolic and spiritual.

  • Glory and Crown: “But if a woman have long hair, it is a glory to her: for her hair is given her for a covering” (1 Corinthians 11:15, KJV). Here, Paul acknowledges hair as a natural crown of dignity.
  • Consecration: In Numbers 6:5, Nazirites such as Samson were commanded not to cut their hair as a sign of holiness and covenant with God. This shows that hair was more than appearance—it was identity and consecration.
  • Diversity in Creation: Scripture affirms that humanity is “fearfully and wonderfully made” (Psalm 139:14). Black hair textures, in all their variety, are part of God’s intentional design, not a flaw.

These biblical insights reject the notion that natural hair is “bad.” Instead, hair is a crown—sometimes even a sacred symbol of identity and strength.

Toward Liberation: Reclaiming the Crown

To break free from the burden of hair politics, society must dismantle Eurocentric beauty hierarchies and embrace inclusivity. Policies such as the CROWN Act (Creating a Respectful and Open World for Natural Hair) in the U.S. represent legal recognition of this struggle. On a personal and cultural level, embracing natural hair affirms resilience: a refusal to bow to imposed norms. For Black women and men, reclaiming their hair is reclaiming their God-given identity, their psychological well-being, and their cultural pride.

Conclusion

Hair, Politics, and Respectability: The Crown We Never Asked For underscores that Black hair has been politicized against its wearers, weaponized as a marker of inferiority. Yet, both psychology and scripture affirm that Black hair is beautiful, intentional, and sacred. It is not a flaw to be corrected but a crown to be celebrated. In embracing their natural hair, Black people reject imposed shame and walk boldly in resilience, dignity, and divine purpose.

References

  • Byrd, A., & Tharps, L. L. (2014). Hair story: Untangling the roots of Black hair in America. St. Martin’s Press.
  • Robinson, C. (2011). Hair as race: Why “good hair” may be bad for Black females. Howard Journal of Communications, 22(4), 358–376.
  • The Holy Bible, King James Version.

Beauty, black-hair, Blackness, Good Hair, The Science of Beauty

From Kinky to Crown: The Politics and Pride of Black Hair

“Black hair is beautiful, but society has often told us otherwise. It is a statement of identity, resistance, and pride.” — Dr. Ayana Byrd, author of Hair Story

“My hair is my crown, and I wear it with pride. Every curl tells a story.” — Lupita Nyong’o

Photo by TUBARONES PHOTOGRAPHY on Pexels.com

Black hair has long been a symbol of identity, heritage, and culture. The textures range from tightly coiled kinks to soft waves, each reflecting the rich diversity of African ancestry. However, the politics surrounding Black hair are deeply tied to historical and social power structures. Eurocentric standards of beauty have positioned straight hair as the “universal standard,” often marginalizing naturally textured hair. This has created a spectrum of discrimination, from overt workplace bias to subtler societal messaging about what constitutes “good” versus “bad” hair. Understanding the textures, cultural history, and politics of Black hair is essential to fostering pride, resilience, and self-acceptance within the Black community.

The Textures and Cultural Significance

Black hair textures vary widely, commonly classified into four types (1–4), with subcategories (A–C) based on curl tightness and pattern. Type 1 is straight hair, which is rare among people of African descent. Type 2 is wavy, Type 3 is curly, and Type 4 is coily/kinky, characterized by tightly packed curls. Each texture carries cultural significance: in African societies, hairstyles represented social status, tribal affiliation, and spiritual beliefs. The Bible also references hair as a sign of strength and identity; for example, Samson’s hair was a symbol of his God-given strength (Judges 16:17, KJV). These textures have been politicized in modern society, where natural hair has often been stigmatized in favor of straightened, chemically relaxed styles.

The Impact of Media and Societal Standards

Media representations reinforce the notion that straight hair is the universal standard of beauty, creating a pervasive hierarchy of hair textures. “Good hair,” often described as straight or loosely curled, is historically linked to proximity to whiteness, while kinky or coily hair has been labeled “bad” or unprofessional (Byrd & Tharps, 2001). These messages have psychological and emotional impacts, influencing self-esteem, identity formation, and social mobility. Mothers, aware of societal bias, often teach children to view their natural hair as needing taming or improvement, inadvertently perpetuating internalized bias. Celebrities and public figures like Lupita Nyong’o challenge this narrative, celebrating natural hair as a crown of heritage and a statement of self-worth.

Care, Products, and Community Perspectives

Caring for Black hair requires attention to moisture, protective styling, and gentle handling to prevent breakage. Recommended products include shea butter, coconut oil, jojoba oil, and sulfate-free shampoos and conditioners. Popular protective styles include braids, twists, locs, and cornrows. Black men have expressed diverse opinions on Black hair, ranging from appreciation of natural textures to preferences shaped by societal norms. These perspectives highlight the ongoing negotiation of identity, beauty, and social perception within the community. Scholars emphasize that reclaiming pride in natural hair fosters empowerment and combats internalized oppression (Banks, 2016).

Conclusion

Black hair is more than aesthetic; it is a political and cultural statement that reflects history, identity, and resilience. From kinky coils to loose curls, hair embodies a legacy of survival, pride, and spiritual significance. By understanding hair textures, rejecting media-imposed hierarchies, and embracing culturally affirming care practices, the Black community can reclaim the crown of natural beauty. As Lupita Nyong’o asserts, each curl tells a story, and through this recognition, Black hair can be celebrated rather than stigmatized. Embracing the politics and pride of Black hair is a step toward self-love, cultural affirmation, and generational healing.

References

  • Banks, I. (2016). Hair Matters: Beauty, Power, and Black Women’s Consciousness. NYU Press.
  • Byrd, A., & Tharps, L. (2001). Hair Story: Untangling the Roots of Black Hair in America. St. Martin’s Press.
  • Lupita Nyong’o. (2014). Personal Interview: Celebrating Natural Hair. Essence Magazine.
  • Roberts, D. (2010). Shaping Beauty, Shaping Race: African American Women and Hair Politics. Duke University Press.
  • The Holy Bible, King James Version.

Beauty, black history, Good Hair, hair

TEXTURISM and Hairism: The Politics of Black Hair, Beauty Hierarchies, and Racial Identity

These photographs are the property of their respective owners.

Hair is more than an aesthetic expression; it is an emblem of identity, culture, power, and resistance. In racialized societies, however, the natural hair textures of African-descended peoples have long been devalued and stigmatized. One of the most insidious manifestations of this stigma is texturism—a form of discrimination based on hair texture that prioritizes looser, straighter, or more “manageable” hair over tightly coiled, kinkier hair. Closely linked to hairism, which broadly encompasses prejudice based on hair type and style, texturism reflects internalized racism and the lingering colonial legacies that shape beauty standards globally. This essay explores the roots, meanings, and consequences of texturism and hairism, tracing their origins through enslavement, Eurocentric aesthetics, and media representation, while also examining pathways toward hair acceptance and reclamation.

Defining Texturism and Hairism

Texturism is the preferential treatment of individuals with loosely curled or straight hair textures over those with tightly coiled or kinky hair. The term was coined by natural hair advocate Chassity Jones in the early 2010s, though the concept existed long before. Hairism, a broader term, refers to discrimination based on hair—whether through texture, length, or perceived neatness. Both terms expose a hierarchy that privileges proximity to Eurocentric beauty ideals, reflecting deeply entrenched social and racial structures.

Historically, hairism and texturism are legacies of colonialism and slavery. Enslaved Africans in the Americas were mocked and punished for their hair, which was seen as wild, untamed, or inferior to the smooth, straight hair of Europeans. Over time, this bias became internalized within Black communities, creating harmful classifications like “good hair” (straight or loosely curled) and “bad hair” (kinky or tightly coiled). These distinctions perpetuated social divisions, reinforcing white supremacist ideologies under the guise of grooming and professionalism.

Hair Texture Types and Their Racial Associations

Hair texture is commonly categorized using the Andre Walker Hair Typing System, developed by Oprah Winfrey’s stylist in the 1990s. It breaks down hair types into four major categories:

  • Type 1: Straight hair (most commonly found among East Asians and Europeans).
  • Type 2: Wavy hair
    • 2A-2C: Light waves to coarse, frizzy waves (found in some Latinx, Middle Eastern, and European populations).
  • Type 3: Curly hair
    • 3A-3C: Loose, springy curls to tight corkscrews (common among mixed-race individuals and some Black and Latinx people).
  • Type 4: Coily or kinky hair
    • 4A-4C: Soft, tight coils to densely packed Z-shaped kinks (predominantly found in people of African descent).

Type 4 hair, particularly 4B and 4C, is often mislabeled as “nappy,” “unkempt,” or “unprofessional,” despite its remarkable versatility and strength. This classification system, while useful in describing curl patterns, has also unintentionally contributed to a hierarchy in which looser curls are perceived as more attractive and acceptable than tighter coils.

“Good Hair” vs. “Bad Hair”: Origins and Impact

The phrase “good hair” emerged during the antebellum era in the United States, when lighter-skinned enslaved people with straighter hair—often the children of white slave owners—were granted preferential treatment. “Good hair” was hair that mimicked the European aesthetic: straight, smooth, and easily tamed. Conversely, “bad hair” referred to the coarser, kinkier textures of African people, which were labeled undesirable.

The legacy of these terms endures today. Black children still experience discrimination in schools for wearing their natural hair. Black professionals are pressured to straighten their hair or wear wigs and weaves to conform to Eurocentric corporate standards. The CROWN Act (Creating a Respectful and Open World for Natural Hair), first passed in California in 2019, had to be introduced precisely because hair-based discrimination remains legal in many parts of the U.S.

“I had to learn that my hair is not the problem—the world’s refusal to see my beauty is.”
—Lupita Nyong’o

“Our hair is political, spiritual, historical, and beautiful. It tells the story of who we are.”
—Dr. Yaba Blay

These quotes reflect a growing cultural movement toward reclaiming natural hair and affirming Black identity on its own terms, rather than through the gaze of whiteness.

The Origins of the Term “Nappy”

The term “nappy” is believed to have originated during slavery, used derogatorily to describe the tightly coiled hair of Africans, likening it to the coarse texture of cotton or the naps in sheep’s wool. Its use was designed to dehumanize and shame enslaved Africans, stripping their hair—and by extension, their identity—of any value or beauty. While some have sought to reclaim “nappy” as a term of empowerment, its historical weight continues to stir deep emotions and debate within Black communities.

Kinky Hair / Tightly Coiled Hair

Kinky or coily hair refers to hair textures that form tight curls or zig-zag patterns, often classified as Type 4. This hair type is rich in cultural and genetic heritage, yet is frequently misunderstood. Contrary to myths of unmanageability, kinky hair is incredibly versatile and can be styled in braids, locs, afros, twists, and bantu knots. However, due to its tendency to shrink and its fragility, it requires specific care and moisture retention.

Why is this hair type stigmatized? The answer lies in colonial aesthetics: beauty standards were built around whiteness. Kinky hair was demonized as evidence of racial inferiority and disorder—ideas perpetuated by pseudo-scientific racism. As a result, even within Black communities, looser curls or silkier textures have been idealized, creating a painful hierarchy of desirability.

Why Do Some Black People Struggle to Love Their Hair?

Centuries of anti-Blackness have conditioned many Black individuals to see their natural hair as burdensome or ugly. The media, education, and even family dynamics have reinforced these messages. Hair relaxers, hot combs, and weaves became tools of survival—ways to assimilate and escape ridicule. These practices, while empowering for some, also reflect a historical pressure to conform.

This struggle is not due to self-hate in isolation but to systemic programming. As author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie once said:

“The problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue, but that they are incomplete. They make one story become the only story.”

The dominant story about Black hair has been one of shame. It is time to replace that narrative with one of pride, knowledge, and celebration.

Toward Hair Liberation: Learning to Appreciate All Hair

Appreciating all hair types begins with education, representation, and liberation from Eurocentric norms. Schools and workplaces must eliminate discriminatory policies and embrace cultural diversity. Media outlets should highlight a broader spectrum of beauty. Families must unlearn generational biases and uplift natural beauty from early childhood.

Hair appreciation means understanding that no one texture is inherently better than another. Each type has unique needs, characteristics, and histories. Straight hair is not superior—just different. Looser curls are not more professional—just more familiar to a colonized eye.

When we affirm all hair textures, we affirm the humanity, dignity, and worth of all people.

Conclusion

Texturism and hairism are not simply issues of personal preference—they are extensions of colonial legacies, white supremacy, and internalized racism. They operate through language, beauty standards, school policies, and job opportunities, creating tiers of acceptance based on proximity to whiteness. But within this struggle lies opportunity: to reclaim, redefine, and rejoice in the beauty of all textures. Black hair is not “bad hair”; it is cultural memory made visible, it is resistance in every coil, it is ancestral glory written in strands. The journey to dismantle texturism begins not with hair products, but with truth—and with a collective commitment to healing.

References

Blay, Y. (2021). One Drop: Shifting the Lens on Race. Beacon Press.

Byrd, A. D., & Tharps, L. L. (2014). Hair Story: Untangling the Roots of Black Hair in America (Revised Edition). St. Martin’s Press.

Craig, M. L. (2002). Ain’t I a Beauty Queen? Black Women, Beauty, and the Politics of Race. Oxford University Press.

Hunter, M. (2011). Buying racial capital: Skin-bleaching and cosmetic surgery in a globalized world. The Journal of Pan African Studies, 4(4), 142–164.

Opie, T. (2019). The CROWN Act and the fight against hair discrimination. Harvard Business Review. Retrieved from https://hbr.org

Tate, S. A. (2007). Black beauty: Shade, hair and anti-racist aesthetics. Ethnic and Racial Studies, 30(2), 300–319. https://doi.org/10.1080/01419870601143927

Beauty, Good Hair, the brown boy dilemma, the brown girl dilemma

Embracing Wooly Hair: A Celebration of Black Beauty

Our hair stands in awe of the Most High, the creator of all creation. The sunbeams of the golden fleece that raptures our skins (no matter the hue) and the heat crystalize the tones in wooly hair. What a fabulous creation we are. 

All photographs are the property of their respective owners.

In his book, “The Chemical Key to Black Greatness” American Biochemist, Carol Barnes, described melanin as, “a civilizing chemical that acts as a sedative to help keep the black human calm, relaxed, caring, creative, energetic and civilized.” Research also revealed that melanin enables black skin to actively interact with the sun, to produce Vitamin D from a biochemical substance, 7- dehydrocholesterol. The study also detected that melanin has spiritual dynamics as well as physical since it acts as a sensory ‘receptor’ and ‘transmitter’; communicating with cosmic energy fields in the vast universe converting light energy to sound energy and back. Dr. Richard King, MD, stated that “melanin, by its ability to capture light and hold it in a memory mode, reveals that blackness converts light into knowledge.”

Melanin refines the nervous system in such a way that messages from the brain reach other areas of the body most rapidly in dark people, the primary race. The abundance of melanin in our skin gives us genetic inferiority. We are physically stronger. Mentally sounder. Spiritually more connected.

Wooly hair is the tree that points to the heavens.

His head and his hairs were white like wool, as white as snow; and his eyes were as a flame of fire; Revelation 1:14 KJV.

Our roots run long straight to the sky. Wooly hair can withstand heat at high temperatures.
‘Although there are no biochemical differences among black, Caucasian, and Asian hair types, there are differences in the hair morphology (8). Black hair appears elliptical or flattened in cross-section, whereas Caucasian hair is oval, and Asian hair is round. The follicle of black hair is curved, in contrast to a straight follicle in Caucasians and Asians.’ – Callender, V. D., McMichael, A. J. and Cohen, G. F. (2004), Medical and surgical therapies for alopecias in black women. Dermatologic Therapy, 17: 164–176. doi:10.1111/j.1396-0296.2004.04017.x

Khumalo NP, Doe PT, Dawber PR, Ferguson DJP.What is healthy black African hair? A light and scanning electron microscopic study. J Am Acad Dermatol 2000: 43:814–820.
‘African hair is curly and frequently exhibits knots ‘However, increased evidence of wearing with some loss of the cuticular pattern was observed towards the tip of the nose in all 3 racial groups most extreme wearing, with complete loss of cuticular structure, was seen toward the tip of the hairs of the Caucasian subject with the most extended hair. However, the hair shafts of the African volunteers did exhibit structural damage with evidence of longitudinal fissures, resulting in the splitting of the hair shafts. The splitting was also associated with knot formation. Longitudinal cracks were not observed in the Caucasian or Asian hairs. It was also found that many of the black African hairs (approximately 40%) were fractured with no attached roots.

‘The African hair shafts were enclosed by a well-preserved cuticle similar to that observed for the other racial groups. ‘The most significant feature was that the majority of the tips of the African hair had fractured ends …Similarly, the basal end also exhibited evidence of breakage in contrast to the Caucasian and Asian samples in which the majority of hairs had attached roots.’

‘From these observations, it could be proposed that any procedure that reduces knotting of hair and/or the need for combing would result in an increase in the length of the hair by reducing the incidence of breaks in the hair shafts.’

Konishi, S., (2008). Tied in rolled knots and powdered with ochre’: Aboriginal hair and eighteenth-century cross-cultural encounters. Borderlands, 7(2), 1-20. Through the influential work of the great taxonomer, Carolus Linnaeus,… Homo europaeus ‘yellow, brown, flowing’, Homo asiaticus ‘abundant black,’ and Homo after ‘black, frizzled’ (cited in Rosenthal, 2004: 2).

This eighteenth-century definition and conceptualization of African hair as ‘woolly’ intersected with slavery discourses that dehumanized the African body to justify its abject treatment. The Oxford English Dictionary indicates that this derogatory term signifying ‘the short, tightly-curled hair of Negroid peoples’ was first used in a runaway slave advertisement in 1697. This type of hair was also ascribed to sexual connotations, according to Allan Peterkin, ‘frizzy’ hair was seen as ‘demonic, licentious, and public.’

… ‘Negro’ possessed ‘wool instead of hair,’ and this difference, in concert with others concerning skin and facial features, suggested that they ‘appear to constitute a new species of man’ (in Diderot and d’Alembert, 1765, v. 11: 76).  uaresma, M. V., Martinez Velasco, M. A., & Tosti, A. (2015). Hair Breakage in Patients of African Descent: Role of Dermoscopy. Skin Appendage Disorders, 1(2), 99–104. http://doi.org/10.1159/000436981

In addition to these properties, the water content in African descent hair is slightly lower than in Caucasian hair, and the sebaceous glands often secrete a small amount of sebum, which has an uneven distribution along the shaft due to its spiral shape, leaving the hair with a dry appearance. M [17,20]

When we associate the term “Mixed Race Hair” we get a visual that it is wild, unruly, hard-to-tame hair. The curly, wavy, coiled, or full-bodied curls, are mostly the combination of different genetic factors that contribute to the texture of feel, the length, the volume, and the plethora of different hair textures. the truth is mixed race hair has more ortho-cortical cells which make it less prone to breakage and damage than finely coiled hair from the scalp. However, the bottom strands are closer to the coily nature of an afro.

Mixed hair, curly or wavy is often referred to as “Good Hair,” All hair is good hair, it all was created by the Most High.

The great phenomenon of wooly hair, the spiral-shaped, tightly coiled, excessive curly mass that tends to hold its shape and grows as a tree straight up on the head. Who are the recipients of such hair? The E1B1A gene carriers – the descendants are the biologically related ancestors far beyond the African diaspora. This is one topic that science has been perplexed by the origin of wooly hair. Geneticists will often say, “The genetic determinants of hair texture in humans are largely not found by science.” It’s either pleiotropic, and selection was for its research fails in comparison to the impact of genetically putting a stamp on its true origin. What genes of phenotypes put together have created such hair type? What is clear is that wooly hair has been passed down from Adam to each generation after his existence.

Most black women testify that perms, pressing combs, and relaxers make their hair more manageable. Who is the inventor of the relaxer? In 1877, the relaxer was created by accident by Garrett A. Morgan the same man that invented the traffic signal. This allowed women and men of color to have straight hair like their white counterparts for hundreds of years. The perm was referred to as “ creamy crack” in Chris Rock’s “Good Hair Documentary” A must-see if you haven’t seen it already it exposes the dangers and chemicals found in the hair treatments. Natural Hair is the best it is at its healthiest, free of chemicals and it grows fast! The chemicals in the relaxer treatments may be damaging but many women will argue the fact that having a relaxer has contributed to their back length hair if it is taken care of.

Black hair is a target of “texturism.” The question is, “Why has the world scrutinized our hair?” While we are burning it with chemicals and heating tools, and tearing it out with weaves and glue. For 400 years +, the general population of black people has been imparted to by white people that their hair texture and skin are superior to that of black hair and black skin. This welcomed the birth of a hair obsession. A majority of blacks perceive straight, silky, and soft hair as best. When in fact, wooly hair is scientifically superior to straight hair. Coiled hair acts as antennae conducting the electromagnetic energies of the sun. These are the benefits that our ancestors had in the cotton fields in intense heat. Kinky, afros, nappy, curly, pressed, permed, weaves, or smooth flow? What is our obsession with hair, and how does it affect our perceptions of what is considered attractive? This differentiation of various textures of hair that disregards our hair as being good sociological programming still continues today.

For as long as I remember people often asked me after examining my mid-back length hair, “Is all that hair yours?” or “Do you have Indian in your family?“ In the literal sense of logic or even common sense what they are saying to me is that a black female can’t have long hair unless she is mixed with something. Now, this thought process was first initiated by Willie Lynch back in slavery times and is still relevant today. So the term “Nappy” was created by the white man and was adopted for centuries by black people, but in reality, our hair has a helix (spiral) pattern. It’s the same pattern as whirlwinds and sound waves and DNA. Our hair is meant to grow outward like a tree, not downward like a cascading waterfall. When our hair is given proper care, it’s fluffy and soft. Not only that, our hair is high-volume, high-definition. Our hair doesn’t hang down, it’s not limp, lifeless, and flat, it never lacks volume, and you’ll never see a sister wearing a “bump-it” to get the illusion of voluminous hair. We don’t need it. We can take our wool from kinky to curly to wavy to straight and back to kinky again if that’s our desire. Our hair can even defy gravity and do so naturally. Others can’t. Our hair is a glorious crown, the “original” crown. Look how a head is designed! So, when you see these so-called European royalty women wearing a top. They are imitating the beauty of our hair! Wow isn’t that amazing! For black women, the straight hair bias is the culprit of texture prejudice that privileges the white woman’s texture as the supreme texture of hair. Black women are not aware that our hair is rich with soil, the color of dark chocolate rises to the sky, vastness as space, coiled to perfection, and a mystery of the Most High.

I must admit I love running my fingers through my hair while showering, the curls embrace my face as the water runs the length of my back. I get attention on the comeliness of my hair they suggest that it’s a prized possession but in reality, to my nation, it’s a god. Yes, it is possible to worship hair, I have never been guilty of such worship.. frankly, I always had long hair. It was never a concern of mine. But for many of my sisters, it is, after all, it’s our crowning glory. Black women have always been guilty of false glory due to the fact that you are adorning your head with someone else’s glory. How do we get our own glory? By nourishing our own glory and owning it. I know we own our cars, clothes, or even homes but we must own our hair. We must be thankful and take care of what the Most High gave us.

My interview with Khalifa Musical, a professor of African American Studies

Q. Do you think that as children we are programmed to say that our hair is bad?

Khalifa: Yes, I remember my mother said to my sister about her kinky hair, you need to get your hair done by that she meant to straighten it with perms of straightening combs. As a man, I grow up conditioned to perceive black hair as something terrible that needed to be fixed. I used to look at the women on the commercial and think that was beauty, it was not until I because a student of consciousness that I realize my thinking was wrong. In fact with most of my students, when asked about black hair – 43% (over 200 black male students) said they prepared black women with their natural hair, apart from wigs, weaves, and perms. While 57 % preferred the look of Caucasian straight hair as most attractive and 90% voted that this was conditioned by slavery misconceptions and fallacies about our hair.

Redefining the standard of beauty in terms of hair.

The hair texture closely associated with European straight hair is considered almost heavenly good and esteemed most attractive. This straight hair blows in the wind, cascading down the back, smooth to the touch, and easy to comb. Is this perfection? How can this hair be the best? Willie Lynch is to blame for this one dividing and conquering the slaves based on hair texture. But who says this is true? The fault lies with the mother who never taught the daughter the beauty of her hair. The world has brought into this lie, pure and simple for some, there is no turning back from this theory. In West Africa, Nigeria to be specific the boys and young girls cut their hair off not to deal with the texture and opt to wear wigs. While in the United States, black women are literally tearing their hair out of their heads through the wearing of the weave so they can slang it back and forth. The ignorance of our people is undoubtedly devastating to know that something that was created with sheer brilliance is a beast of burden to many.

How to take care of black hair?

My Q & A with my hairdresser Diana, note she has natural hair all the way down her back.

Q: What do you think about this Good hair, Bad hair situation among black people?

Diane: I think black people are some of the most ignorant people on earth, surely they have bought into the lie of slavery. All hair is good, if it grows out of your head, it is good. What has ruined our noses is the perms and the weaves.

Q: What are some tips for the maintenance and growth of natural hair?

Diane:

1. There is a huge misconception that black hair is coarse, strong, and can take a beating. That is true, in fact, black hair is the most fragile of every hair type, my Asian clients have the strongest hair very coarse now their hair can take a beating.

2. Co-washes your hair once a week with a natural moisturizing conditioner and not shampoo because it dries out the hair which can cause breakage.

3. Keep your hair moisturized with a natural moisturizer and seal the ends with olive oil. Choose natural organic products and try to avoid products with mineral oils and petroleum oil. Natural oils like almond, coconut oil, olive oil, grape seed oil, and jojoba oils are much better.

4. If you use heat styling products (blow dryers, Flatirons) on your hair, try and cut it down to 1-2 times a month if you can, and make sure you use a heat protection shampoo and/or moisturizer, or a good heat protective serum/spray on your hair before flat ironing or curling.

5. Make sure you sleep on a satin pillowcase or tie your hair up in a silk scarf so your hair can stay healthy and won’t break or tear. Silk or satin pillowcases, bonnets, and scarves will protect your hair from breakage while rubbing against certain fabrics that cause breakage.

6. Moisturize your ends nightly with coconut oil before you go to sleep

7. Once a month only use a protein treatment for deep conditioning.

8. To extend hair growth I recommend a diet of fresh fruits and vegetables and exercised weekly to get the blood flowing to your hair.

9. Massage your scalp a few times a week for extra blood flow for hair growth.

10. Use a wide tooth comb to comb your hair, stop buying bristle brushes or thin combs which will get caught in your hair and snap it off. Go for low maintenance. We should never comb our hair every day just detangle it with your fingers, after applying moisturizer.

Unfortunately, that is the gospel that most black or brown women preach. The truth is that if you keep all the weaves and chemicals off your hair, it will grow with some easy maintenance, it will grow in no time. A black woman’s hair will grow if she maintains to keep it healthy and nourished with the right natural products, contrary to popular belief, the black woman is not alone, there are some cases where the white woman’s hair won’t grow either, or it’s fragile — Diane (my hairdresser)

The Curse

Moreover the LORD saith, Because the daughters of Zion are haughty, and walk with stretched forth necks and wanton eyes, walking and mincing as they go, and making a tinkling with their feet: Therefore the Lord will smite with a scab the crown of the head of the daughters of Zion, and the LORD will discover their secret parts. — Isaiah 3: 16-17 – 

Because of the haughtiness toward our men, our head was smitten with baldness, which would explain the lust for long hair. We had the beauty everyone wanted at that time. We are the Daughters of Zion. That was a curse! Now today… I believe that curse is lifted… With all the beautiful hair treatments, perms, hair styling, relaxers, weaves, chemicals from shampoos, our diet, hormones, what we drink, rest, environment, etc. All these elements affect the health of our hair. What is paramount is the way we care for our hair. Is long hair possible? Yes.

Asha Mandela, who reportedly has the most extended hair, and dreads in the world at a whopping 22 feet long, her extremely long tresses were documented by the Guinness World Record in 2009. Many of us on this day have long hair. Your hair grows! Take care of the hair that grows out of your head. Black women are waking up to their true identity according to the Bible all over the world & learning to love the skin they’re in, wooly hair & all through the natural hair movement and it is absolutely awe-inspiring.

But if a woman has long hair, it is a glory to her: for her hair is given her for a covering.1 Corinthians 11:15 KJV

Black hair is a target of the famous “Ism,” known as “Texturism.” The question is, “Why has the world scrutinized our hair?” While we are burning it with chemicals and heating tools, and tearing it out with weaves and glue. For 400 years +, the general population of black people has been imparted to by white people that their hair texture and skin is superior to that of black hair and black leather. This welcomed the birth of a hair obsession. A majority of blacks perceive straight, silky, and soft hair as best. When in fact, wooly hair is scientifically superior to straight hair. Coiled hair acts as antennae conducting the electromagnetic energies of the sun. These are the benefits that our ancestors had in the cotton fields in intense heat. Kinky, afros, nappy, curly, pressed, permed, weaves, or smooth flow? What is our obsession with hair, and how does it affect our perceptions of what is considered attractive? This differentiation of various textures of hair that disregards our hair as being good sociological programming still continues today.

For as long as I remember people often asked me after examining my mid-back length hair, “Is all that hair yours?” or “Do you have Indian in your family?“ In the literal sense of logic or even common sense what they are saying to me is that a black female can’t have long hair unless she is mixed with something. Now, this thought process was first initiated by Willie Lynch back in slavery times and is still relevant today. So the term “Nappy” was created by the white man and was adopted for centuries by black people, but in reality, our hair has a helix (spiral) pattern. It’s the same pattern as whirlwinds and sound waves and DNA. Our hair is meant to grow outward like a tree, not downward like a cascading waterfall. When our hair is given proper care, it’s fluffy and soft. Not only that, our hair is high-volume, high-definition. Our hair doesn’t hang down, it’s not limp, lifeless, and flat, it never lacks volume, and you’ll never see a sister wearing a “bump-it” to get the illusion of voluminous hair. We don’t need it. We can take our wool from kinky to curly to wavy to straight and back to kinky again if that’s our desire. Our hair can even defy gravity and do so naturally. Others can’t. Our hair is a glorious crown, the “original” crown. Look how a head is designed! So, when you see these so-called European royalty women wearing a top. They are imitating the beauty of our hair! Wow isn’t that amazing! For black women, the straight hair bias is the culprit of texture prejudice that privileges the white woman’s texture as the supreme texture of hair. Black women are not aware that our hair is rich with soil, the color of dark chocolate rises to the sky, vast as space, coiled to perfection, and a mystery of the Most High.

My interview with Khalifa Musfai, a professor of African American Studies

Q. Do you think that as children we are programmed to say that our hair is bad?

Khalifa: Yes, I remember my mother said to my sister about her kinky hair, you need to get your hair done by that she meant to straighten it with perms of straightening combs. As a man, I grow up conditioned to perceive black hair as something terrible that needed to be fixed. I used to look at the women on the commercial and think that was beauty, it was not until I because a student of consciousness that I realize my thinking was wrong. In fact with most of my students, when asked about black hair – 43% (over 200 black male students) said they prepared black women with their natural hair, apart from wigs, weaves, and perms. While 57 % preferred the look of Caucasian straight hair as most attractive and 90% voted that this was conditioned by slavery misconceptions and fallacies about our hair.

Redefining the standard of beauty in terms of hair.

I must admit I love running my fingers through my hair while showering, the curls embrace my face as the water runs the length of my back. I get attention on the comeliness of my hair they suggest that it’s a prized possession, but in reality, to my nation, it’s a god. Yes, it is possible to worship hair, I have never been guilty of such worship.. frankly, I always had long hair. It was never a concern of mine. But for many of my sisters, it is, after all, it’s our crowning glory. Black women have always been guilty of false glory because they are adorning their heads with someone else’s beauty. How do we get our own vision? By nourishing our own glory and owning it. I know we own our cars, clothes, or even homes but we must hold our hair. We must be thankful and take care of what the Most High gave us. The hair texture closely associated with European straight hair is considered almost heavenly good and esteemed most attractive. This straight hair blows in the wind, cascading down the back, smooth to the touch, and easy to comb.

Is this perfection? How can this hair be the best? Willie Lynch is to blame for this one dividing and conquering the slaves based on hair texture. But who says this is true? The fault lies with the mother who never taught the daughter the beauty of her hair. The world has brought into this lie, pure and simple for some, there is no turning back from this theory. In West Africa, Nigeria to be specific the boys and young girls cut their hair off not to deal with the texture and opt to wear wigs. While in the United States, black women are literally tearing their hair out of their heads through the wearing of the weave so they can slang it back and forth. The ignorance of our people is undoubtedly devastating to know that something that was created with sheer brilliance is a beast of pardon to many.

My conversation with a random woman I encountered at a boutique.

Woman: Girl you got some excellent hair — 

Me: All hair is good. Woman: I wish my hair were long and pretty like yours. You’re so cute. 

Me: Your hair is pretty. 

Woman: But not like yours 

Me: You know that is a fallacy created by our people that goes back to slavery. There is no right or bad hair. The Most High created all hair and it’s good hair. (That comment left her speechless and puzzled there was no reply) 

The contemptuous terms such as ‘good hair’ or ‘bad hair’ came out of the era of slavery, during the Willie Lynch period. Where slaves were put into groups according to the lightness of skin and hair textures the closer your hair was to Caucasian hair the better you were perceived which meant you would be considered “a house negro” and receive preferential treatment than the darker slaves. Our hair is our crowning glory; there are various textures of hair that black people have due to genetics and racial mixing. These textures vary from 3A to 4D, beautiful to tightly curled.

3 a – fine curl pattern

 3 b – medium curl pattern

3 c – loose curly pattern

 4a – thicker curly pattern

4b – thicker medium pattern

4c – medium curly pattern

4d – excessively tighter curls

COMMON THINGS SPOKEN ABOUT HAIR TYPE 3A – 4C:

Coily Hair

You need to straighten it, unkept! Do something with your hair. It is nappy, you look ugly, and you need a weave, go and rectify it. I like you better with straight hair.

Permed Hair

If you don’t love yourself, go natural! Trying to be something you are not.

Curly Hair

You have some good hair. It is too wild and needs to be straight. What are you mixed with?

Straight Hair

Ideal with the masses, the universal standard of hair beauty.

Facts about black hair: 

It keeps you cool and protects you from the sun.

Our hair is our crowning glory; there are many textures of hair that black people have due to genetics and interracial rations.

There is more money spent on hair care around the world than products to actually make the hair grow.

There is no such thing as bad hair, the strains of our hair were created by the Most High, and trust me, he knew what He was doing in creation but through colonization and the media which suggests that long bone straight flowing hair is most attractive.

We as people have bought into that “Lie” Yes I said it, that lie because that is what it is. You have been brainwashed into thinking that excessively curly or wooly hair isn’t as good as straight hair.

The Savior of this world has wooly hair.

My nation is so ignorant, of how they talk about their hair. All hair is good. Embrace your wool.

I was taught I had terrible hair, so I relaxed it and added weave now I am bald-headed — Brittany (a 31-year-old black woman) 

I wish my parents would have taught me that my hair wasn’t bad — Erica Wilson (18-year-old female) 

There is nothing better than a black woman that wears her natural hair — Jonathan (white male married to a black woman)

Often people ask me if my hair is real because it’s thick and long.

Male Store clerk: Is all that hair yours?

Me: Yes

Male Store clerk: Can I touch it?

Today in 2018, I walk proudly with my hair covered sometimes, it gives the mystery of what is underneath. Is it short or is it long? In late 18th century Louisiana, black women were ordered to cover their hair in public. This system was called the “Bando du Buen Gobierno,” “Edict for Good Government.” These rules were meant to change certain so-called “unacceptable” behaviors of free black women. specifically overly ostentatious hairstyles,(designed to impress or attract notice) which drew the attention of white men, and the jealousy of white women. These rules are called the “Tignon Laws” A tignon (pronounced “yon”) is a headdress. They are still doing this today! Where a lot of people go on interviews and are turned away because of their natural hair, The employers say they must straighten their hair. But finally, we are waking back up to our beauty! They even fear our hair!

When wearing a weave or perming your hair, you are playing roulette with your hair, please handle it with care. — Diane (my hairdresser)

ALL HAIR IS GOOD!

LITTLE GIRL IN THE STORE: Look at her hair Mom. LITTLE GIRL’S MOM: That is a weave. ME: No, it’s my hair.

It is a mere fact that we women that have long natural hair like me that grow out of our heads, always manage to get a hater or naysayers that believe that our hair is not real. In a society with all the fakers, weave wearers, and wig junkies it makes it hard for those of us that like to keep it real. It is also true that we were conditioned through slavery to hate ourselves and the texture of our hair so we commit our scalps to abusive chemicals and hair that did not grow from our scalp. The truth of the matter is that all hair is good, the creator of all made it. This hate is correlated with the term “Texturism.”

Good Hair (we have it.) 

Reference: The Brown Girl Dilemma Book, 2017