The politics of hair
The first time I realised that my hair was not my own was when I was twelve. The school holidays were a week away and as such, my very conservative headmistress relaxed the school rules on hair. All my friends arrived for the last week of school with long braids or relaxed hair. Being a conformist then, I wanted straight hair too. But my father, being of the Bob Marley ‘black and proud’ generation forbade it. My pouting, pleas and final resort to the blackmail of crying did nothing to move him.
‘You are an African princess’ he said, ‘you must be proud of who and what you are.’ I wasn’t comforted.
Regardless of geographical location or history all women of African descent have at one time or another succumbed to the notion that good hair is long and straight. Quoted in a New York Times article on the good hair debate Associate professor of Black Studies at the University of California at Santa Barbara, Ingrid Banks said:
“For black women, you’re damned if you do, damned if you don’t, if you’ve got straight hair you’re pegged as selling out. If you don’t straighten your hair, you’re seen as not practicing appropriate grooming practices.”
That our hair is a political statement, and that in its natural state it is not considered desirable is probably one of the few things that we all have in common. So we struggle with extensions and weaves, hot combs and relaxers, in a never-ending battle to be seen as beautiful. The multitude of women on the streets of Harare with an imitation of Rihanna’s straight asymmetric-cut weave is proof of that.
It seems that beauty, as defined by the cosmetic companies that services the industry, has everything to do with being less black. Even here in Zimbabwe, amid indigenisation and empowerment, black women do not feel beautiful without some enhancement that takes away something of what makes them African. And through all of that not once have we stopped to ask ourselves “what is beautiful for me?”
Tuesday, March 22nd 2011 at 9:53 am
‘so when are you getting you hair done’
‘what are doing with your hair next’
‘when are you relaxing your hair’
A few of the many comments i’ve come across when i dare to wear my natural hair…..it’s true as a black woman your hair is not your own, i remember some years back when i let my hair out for a good couple of months the endless comments i would get from fellow black people about my hair it also didn’t help that my hair is natural (because i don’t believe in chemicals)…..but other races who don’t have the hair texture i have as a black woman would come up to with such nice and genuine comments about my hair,
‘its beautiful’
‘why do you always hide it in braids’
and this is where my confusion and internal battles stem from- who doesn’t want to be considered beautiful from people who are like them (in this case me in the black community), but the reaction to natural hair is so strong you find yourself tired of ‘fighting’ this hair battle and just give in to the weaves, hot combs, relaxers, braids, i mean some woman would actually rather be bald than to have there natural texture in an afro.
Keeping my hair natural is my small way of ‘fighting’ the common ideal of beauty.