Hair doesn’t really matter. Society makes it seem more important than it actually is, which affects many people, but mainly women of color. Black hair is often the most questioned. It’s often thought that our hair is dirty, unkempt, short, and ugly. Black women often don’t have to wash their hair every day. Hair produces oils, and straight hair often creates oil faster than curly hair. If we were to wash our hair every day it would become very brittle and dry since the little oil/moisture left in the hair would be washed out. I’ve often noticed how easy it is for other cultures to tell me that my hair is weird or unacceptable for being in its natural state. This has caused some biases in the black community. Black people will often think straight hair is better hair. In truth, all hair is good hair.

A Time magazine article by Areva Martina stated, “A February 2017 study found that black women feel more anxiety about their hair and are twice as likely in comparison to white women to feel pressure to straighten it in their workplace.” And the study found that many people “show implicit bias against black women’s textured hair.” As long as black women have existed in America, we have been put down for our skin color, our bodies, and our natural hair. In the 18th century, British colonists deemed African hair as closer to sheep wool than human hair, setting the precedent that white hair is preferable – or “good,” a racially charged notion in and of itself. After the emancipation of slavery, many black Americans sought to straighten their hair to fit in. Madame C.J. Walker, the first black female millionaire, made her fortune selling products meant to straighten black hair as a way to help black women get ahead in society by fitting in aesthetically.

My sophomore year, I joined the Lumberjack Club at school. This club was dedicated to doing volunteer work and helping others. Sounds great on a college transcript, right? Just kidding – I actually enjoyed doing it. My best friend and I decided to volunteer for a soup kitchen. When we finished handing out food, we waited in the kitchen for people to finish their meals. My friend and I, along with the other students and our teacher, stood around talking about different topics: school, the upcoming semi-formal dance, and social media crazes. As we talked, my teacher, we’ll call him Richard, turned to me and asked, “Kaylah, is that your real hair?” I was stunned. I just kind of stood still for a second.

I was a quiet student who didn’t often speak up, so I smiled awkwardly and replied, “No.” I should’ve said, ”I bought it, so it is my hair!” But, I didn’t have the courage. At the time, I was wearing crochet braids. This is a common protective style that I actually love to do. All of my hair was braided into cornrows and curly hair that I bought in packs at the store was latch-hooked and tied into them. Then my teacher continued. “Is it human or synthetic?” My first thoughts were why is he so concerned? How could he possibly even know about these terms? My teacher explained that he’d watched a movie the night before called “Good Hair” where Chris Rock travels the world to learn about different hair after being asked by his daughter, “Daddy, why don’t I have good hair?” My teacher then babbled about how monks trick women into selling their hair in different countries and how he now knows a bunch of different things about hair. He ended his jabbering by saying, “Don’t judge me.”

In a 2018 InStyle magazine article by Eleanor Abraham, she writes, “Under Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, employers are allowed to enforce dress-code and appearance policies that include the regulation of hair. The Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (EEOC), which enforces these laws, states employers can impose rules calling for “neutral hairstyles,” which have to be applied to everyone equally, regardless of race. Of course, some hairstyles are more particular to people of certain races, and what constitutes ‘neutral’ in terms of hairstyles is entirely subjective.” That may seem like ancient history, but even four years ago, the U.S. military was still discriminating against blacks in regard to their hair. Abraham writes, “Known as the document that defines U.S. army uniform regulations, the Army Regulation (AR) 670-1 has, in recent years, sparked backlash because of its prejudiced policing of black hair. The 2014 edition of the document actually banned service people from wearing dreadlocks and cornrows, among other popular black hairstyles – which some viewed as an attempt to white-wash the army. Many also called out the document’s racially biased language that shockingly described dreadlocks as ‘unkempt and matted,’ claiming it demonstrated little to no attempt on the U.S. military’s part to understand black hair, the way it grows, and popular methods of styling it.” It is often seen that black hairstyles are the focus of hair regulations in dress codes. It’s a form of oppression on a smaller scale.

In 2013, a 7-year-old girl named Tiana Parker was banned from
wearing her hair in dreadlocks at her Oklahoma charter school. Parker’s father was told that his daughter’s hairstyle wasn’t “presentable,” and that the school felt her hair could “distract from the respectful and serious atmosphere [the school] strives for.” This is another example of black hair being labeled as unkempt and inferior to white hairstyles. Tiana’s parents later removed her from the school.

So how could I not judge a man who just asked me in front of a bunch of kids I don’t know too well if my hair was real? My friend and I just looked at each other and kind of laughed. Other kids began to join the conversation to tell me that my hair is cool and how when I don’t look they touch and feel it. They laughed about it and I attempted to laugh along with them. Not because I thought what they told me was funny – but because I was shocked by how much disrespect they had for personal boundaries. How is sticking your greasy, germ-coated hand onto someone else’s body, funny? I began to feel small. Like those porcelain figurines in Hallmark, I felt like a toy. This isn’t the first time my hair has made me feel this way, and I’ve gone to great lengths to deal with it … from burning my hair out of my head to damaging it with chemicals. Having a darker skin color, bigger physical features, and a different way of speaking make me feel like an “other.” Being treated like my hair is a spectacle is one more thing that sets me apart. Although I’ve learned not to care so much about it now, I still have my insecure moments.

I agree with Eleanor Abraham when she writes, “Bias against black natural hair is well-documented and disproportionately affects people of color. It seems like this should not be legal, but anti-discrimination laws offer little protection. While the world hasn’t caught up yet, we shouldn’t wait for archaic – and damaging – stereotypes to go out of fashion.”