This is not a post about “good” or “bad” hair.
This is not a post about the connotation of “nappy”.
This is simply a post about being…privileged…enough to be black and having black girl hair.
As a black woman, I belong to an unnamed sorority of women who will spend the entirety of their life in complete bewilderment and awe of what our hair can and can not do. Of course hair is a big deal to all women, but for black women, it’s a real political, societal, and economical issue. It’s inescapable.
I have been “natural” for over a year now (for those unfamiliar with the term, it loosely means that I have avoided putting chemical straighteners on my hair). I didn’t do it because I wanted to look more Afrocentric or because I thought the chemicals were frying my brain matter. I simply wanted to see what my hair could do left on to its own devices. Many of my black contemporaries and friends have also taken to this trend (can it be called a trend, when we are really just letting our hair be what it is?) and have done so for various reasons. Admittedly, I think the natural look is beautiful on most women, despite how their comes out (curly, wavy, kinky, fro-ish, twisty…). Honestly, for me it’s hard to keep up. My head is big and my hair is thick. When left natural, I have a fun curl, but it’s shrinks and I wind up looking like the two-year old me. Thus, I normally flat iron it, but that’s a HUGE pain in the butt because I have a. lot. of. hair. The moment moisture is in the air, my hair retreats to a puff. No thanks.
I am certainly caught in a love/hate relationship with my hair, as I assume most women are regardless of race. Here is my manifesto about my hair.
The Good
Black girl hair is versatile; likely, the most versatile among any other type of “girl hair”. I can invest in a wide variety of products that either make me look like Mother Africa or the Duchess of York. Looking back at my Facebook pictures, I can chronicle my life by hair styles! Like most women, when we are feeling down or frumpy, a trip to a stylist helps to boost confidence and adapt a new look appropriate for a new attitude. Yet for black women, there is a sweet diversity when it comes to hair. Grab 50 black women off the street, and you’ll get 50 different hairdos. (Well, let’s be honest…you’ll likely get 35 dos, and and 65 don’ts). I like that my hair makes me stand out for all the right reasons, that I can do something with it that Lindsey, Jen, or Becky can’t do (no really, those are my white friend’s names). I like that when I am tired of this look, I can chop or add length as desired. It seems to still be quite taboo in other communities to admit when hair/weave is added. So, yay for us! (Finally, there is something not to get upset about!).
Besides versatility, my hair has been the intercessory to introductions of new people and friends. Inquisitive people strike up conversations about the style, the color, and the amount of time it took to accomplish a certain look. Others have connected me to friends of friends that can offer something for my hair I’m currently not getting, or a hook-up (and we know how the Negro loves a hook-up). My hair has brought the most random people into my life–some temporary, and some more permanent–but all with good intent. Hair brings people together.
The Bad
For all the good black hair brings, it also brings a lot of headaches. A lot.
I spend ridiculous amounts of time and money on my hair–regardless of the state it may be in. Let’s talk time first.
If I get my hair done by “my girl” (I’m pretty sure everyone calls their stylist “my girl” right?) this will take me no less than 5 hours…NO MATTER WHAT I’M GETTING DONE! If a stylist is dealing with my own hair (that I’ve gr0wn from the scalp), most of this time is spent waiting under the dryer. The other time is spent listening to the stylist talk about her other customers, reality t.v., or her significant other. If I am getting weave (I know this may be confusing for some of you…Google is your friend), this seems to be a shorter process, but one that is still butt-numbing. There is a lot of shifting in a chair with your head cocked to the side. If I am getting braids, (which is different than getting a weave…), my day is gone. I will be sitting in a chair for hours (and when I say hours, I’m talking at 8-9 hours) to get my hair braided. Yes! I know how this sounds! Every time I get my hair done, I come to a complimentary husband, but also some bewildered looks. I mean, why waste your day on something like hair? However, for the black woman this is completely necessary! To take one day to get your hair done so you don’t have to worry about it for the next two months completely makes sense, no matter the time or the cost. Do you know how long it takes to wash my hair? Unlike some of my buddies, I can’t just step in the shower, wash my hair…and go. For me to do it myself is really an overnight venture. The process is something like this:
wash –> condition –> deep condition –> leave-in condition –> (then depending on the style I’m trying to achieve I will either let it air dry (overnight experience) or blow dry (2 hour experience) –> twist/curl/flat iron (all a minimum of 2 hours) –> style. Total time: 4-8 hours. No joke.
So let’s talk about cost for a moment.
The mainstream beauty market does not (and possibly can not) tailor their products for the average black girl. Because of the mixed ethnicity of most black women, no one product or brand works in our hair. For instance, my mom always did my hair growing up, so when I went to college, I had no idea what to use. Not to mention, our hair seems to change as we grow and mature. The amount of money spent trying products, going to a stylist, purchasing hair, purchasing products to upkeep style or hair…let’s just say that I have funded a Vietnamese’s college tuition.
The Ugly
Judgment.
As a black woman, there are two strikes against the average black woman from the jump (race/gender). Despite articulation, degrees, documents of success and even natural beauty…these things matter less when a black woman presents herself with hair that strays from the European norm. Black women wearing twists, afros, or other natural styles are deemed as having “wild” or “crazy” hair. Though people may think it’s fun (Yes, fun…the amount of pale fingers I’ve had in my head while a voice exclaims, “Oh my gosh! I just love your hair! It’s so fun and crazy!” wtf…), fun isn’t what employers are looking for. Employers are looking for someone who can adhere to norms, assimilate with others. Women with weaves or braids are viewed as “too ethnic” or even worse…”ghetto”. Women with natural hairstyles can be viewed as too Afrocentric (read: we hate whitey). While all of these viewpoints are outlandish, this perception is very real. Unless a black woman wears her hair straight (pressed, iron, blow-dried or relaxed), there is a likelihood she isn’t viewed by corporate and/or white America as the ideal representative of the progressive black woman.
There also seems to be some sort of quiet, personal judgment from the non-black people I know who don’t understand black hair. Why would you sit so long to get your hair done? Can I touch it? How much does something like that cost? Why would you pay so much money to get it done? That looks hot…is it hot? Can I touch it? When do you wash it? Doesn’t it smell after a while? How do you take it out? Will it fall out? Can I touch it?
Excuse me? GTFOMF!
Sure, a lot of these are ignorant though innocent questions. However, these questions are rooted in perceptions and stereotypes of black women. I thought about detailing some of those, but again…not what this blog is about.
Recently, @damesmith (black, male, sometimes funny) queried on Twitter if it is appropriate to ask a woman if her hair is actually her own (grown, not purchased). I’m not sure about the responses he received, but it certainly had me thinking about how all people seem to have thoughts about what’s happening on top of a black woman’s head. It’s rather interesting when you think about it–when was the last time someone 1. asked you if your hair was real or 2. asked to touch it?
It’s been less than 12 hours for me.
Good, bad, or ugly, I’m black and ain’t nothing wrong with that.
*flips weave*
Follow me on twitter so you can watch my hair change via avatar. @artofbeingblunt
Nobody told me that at 31, I’d be questioning my life.
