The Secret Life of Kinky-Haired Girls

In 2009, African American comedian Chris Rock made the movie “Good Hair” after his daughter, Lola, went to him in tears and asked “Daddy, how come I don’t have good hair?”

The coming of this movie spurred many talk shows to discuss this seemingly shallow, but voluminous topic. This very unknown issue, filled with the countless unheard stories of kinky-haired girls battling with their hair, was finally being exposed. The film called itself a documentary. Set off by his daughter’s distressful question, it would follow Chris Rock’s journey as he explores the issue of how African American women perceive their hair. After seeing all the talk shows, from Tyra Banks to Oprah, I was excited when the documentary finally opened in theaters.

I hated it.

For someone who was already so well-versed in this topic that I even became a hair care blogger, I felt the movie did not go in depth or do what it could have done — dispel the misconceptions and negative stigmas associated with kinky-textured hair. Instead Chris Rock endorsed these misconceptions by making jokes like ‘if a Black woman has hair to her waist, it’s a weave,’ throughout the movie. I understand he’s a comedian, but a documentary is suppose to be informative, especially one on an unknown subject that many have misconceptions about. Perhaps I was expecting too much. The documentary was told from a male perspective that had no expertise in the subject. There were, however, some good, revealing moments in the movie. For example, Chris Rock visits a sodium hydroxide factory to learn about lye relaxers, a chemical hair straightener often used by women of African descent. He finds out that the chemical is strong enough to melt a soda can. This same ingredient is coated on to people’s hair and scalps.

Besides the missed opportunity, another negative critic I have about the movie is, what happened to addressing his daughter’s heart-wrenching question?

The large majority of people in the world have straight hair, and a very small minority have curly-coily hair. Not only is this hair texture usually only seen growing on the heads of those of African descent, but it’s typically women who are expected to grow it out. This population slicing doesn’t stop there, because there are many women of African descent who do not understand their own hair, and don’t know better than the misconceptions held by the general public. So, how big is the population of people with kinky-textured hair who understand the many natures of their own hair? You have the Black minority, sliced down to Black women, sliced down to Black women who understand their own hair. It’s a very small minority.

No wonder the issues that plagues this isolated world are so unknown by the outside world. And, no wonder the large majority still hold many politically incorrect, misconceptions about kinky textured hair.

Below is a comic strip where an illustrator, Tallncurly, re-imagines the world by flipping the population demographics so curls and kinks are the majority and straight hair is the minority. If you have straight or wavy hair, or just finding it hard to image what it’s like to be a kinky-haired minority, I highly recommend you read.

America is a melting pot of diverse people from different social and ethnic backgrounds. The country often tries to show awareness and understanding towards these different groups in order to avoid ignorant labels and perceptions, and dispel misconceptions. Ignorance equates to a lack of understanding, and its human nature to want to be understood. But, what happens if even members of an ethnic group hold misconceptions about themselves? Unlike the known stereotypes and false perceptions of other ethnic groups, the misconceptions regarding kinky textured hair is only understood by a small minority, its negative stigma heavily remains.

The topic of kinky-textured hair is actually a very political, cultural, and psychological subject. The idea that kinky-textured hair is nappy and ugly originates from slavery. For many cultures in history, it was common for traits associated from the lower class to be deemed undesirable.

“The history of ‘Black Hair and Beauty Culture’ mirrors the intricacy of both African and American cultures. Over the years, African American hair has been associated with the ideology of white visual conception. Some people say that blacks have embraced hairstyles and beauty methods that reflect popular European standards of beauty . . .” Ben Arogundade, author of ‘Black Beauty,’ wrote in an article for the African American Registry, “Around 1441 when African slaves were brought west to the ‘New World,’ they were confronted with their first loss of identity. It was then that the one and only identity they had, was stripped from them. The standards of beauty that they encountered were the privilege of fair skin, straight hair, and thin features, in contrast to ‘African’ dark skin, curly hair, and wider noses and mouths. Some slaves had to get accustomed to the European beauty styles to survive (literally).”

The present is a product of the past. In modern time, many women of African descent are still being taught, both by the outside world and in their own communities, that their hair, is ugly, nappy, and even unacceptable. Women in general are already given unrealistic beauty standards due to the everyday photo-shopped female images we see in media. For women of African descent, this problem is typically bigger. The community is brainwashed into thinking they should strive for a a more Western-European standard of beauty. They should have straighter hair and completely morph the way it naturally grows out of their heads.

Once, I was also a complete outsider to this world. I grew up in a multiracial family of Caribbean-Trinidadian descent. I believe this is part of the reason I was late in understanding race the way others my age understood it. I was very color blind until around the end of middle school. When I was little, I never really understood why some people would tell me that I have long hair, or I have good hair, or that I was lucky because of my hair. My hair was just pass my shoulders, it wasn’t that long. It wasn’t until I got older that I had the revelation (but actually the misapprehension) that black hair doesn’t grow long. It was an ‘aha’ moment. It was always women and girls of African descent who said I had ‘good hair,’ and what they meant was that my hair was long for a girl of African descent.

The idea that multiracial hair with a looser curl pattern is ‘good hair’ also originated from slavery. In a NaturallyCurly article titled “The Evolution of Black Hair in America” by Ajia N. Eberhart, the author explains that “The concept of colorism was practiced during this time which brainwashed slaves and modern day African Americans into believing the good hair bad hair craze. Willie Lynch, a slave master in the Caribbean islands, infamously stated that if slaves were separated by color at that time, they would remain separated for years to come. A result of his proclamation was the house slave and the field slave; one being of mixed race with fairer skin and “smoother” hair, while the other was of darker complexion and had kinkier hair.”

The more alike individuals are, the more they can relate and understand each other. This concept becomes twisted when considering unfamiliar, misunderstood individuality. It calls for individuals who have ‘oddities’ to conform to fit in. Even in modern times, multiracial individuals with lighter skin and looser hair textures are too often seen as better because they are able to assimilate better with Caucasians and other ethnicities. The indecorous line from Paul Mooney in the movie “Good Hair” says it best, “If your hair is nappy, White people ain’t happy.” Everyone wants to be accepted and understood, and sometimes this desire outweighs keeping your identity.

Young African American girls grow up seeing straighter hair textures on all other ethnicities. They grow up seeing hair product commercials where women transform their frizzy, bad hair, into sleek straight hair. They grow up seeing most adult African American women and role models sporting straight hair, relaxed or weaved. They even grow up seeing straight hair on their Black barbie dolls. They notice that their hair grows out very differently. Many young African American girls end up asking the question Chris Rock’s daughter asked. Starting around the age of five, my half sister, Kaylie, had already become brainwashed. She constantly said she wanted hair ‘like a white person’s’ — and worse, she said she wanted ’big girl hair’ that was straightened like mine. I started wearing my hair in a bun when she came to visit.

The first time Kaylie expressed that she didn’t like her natural hair, I panicked. My instinct was to lash out with a sermon, but I stopped myself. It was a sensitive subject that had to be handled with care. How was I going to make a child completely naive about the issue understand without making a big deal about it? Though I was also once naive about Black hair, I was in the midst of becoming very educated in the topic at the time.

From family and friends, I was taught that it was normal to go to the salon often to ‘fix’ your hair. I was told that I needed a relaxer now that my hair texture had started to grow out kinkier. I was taught kinky hair was unmanageable. I was taught certain hair textures need to be relaxed. I was told not to worry about the burning sensation of the lye relaxer on my scalp, the longer I endure it the straighter my hair will be. I was taught that getting scalp scabs after was no big deal, and that they’d go away in about a week.

From television, people within the Black community, and people outside of it, I learned the kinkier your hair was, the uglier your hair was. I learned that it was okay and funny for a man to make fun of a Black woman if her kinks were showing from beneath hair straight hair disguise. I learned that Black hair was bad because it didn’t have that ‘white girl flow.’ That it didn’t grow long because of genetics. That kinky hair was like a messy, unruly ball of frizz. That just because it was a different texture, it was ‘bad.’ All of these and more, turned out to be misconceptions or inappropriate stigmas. Many women of African-descent don’t understand their own hair.

In the Black community, it was a common belief that women were suppose to go to the hair salon to ‘fix’ their hair. According to Ben Arogundade’s article, salons visits were so frequent that these businesses were information hubs and were a prevalent part of Black culture. Many women did not understand their own hair, so they had to let hair stylists handle it. Not knowing how to take care of your own hair might seem incomprehensible to people without this hair type, but its a strong reality for many kinky-haired girls. When African slaves were brought to America, they were stripped of their customs and had to adapt, this included the hair grooming practices they previously had. How to take care of kinky-textured hair is something you have to be taught. Following everyone’s bad advice, my hair became dry and damaged, so I began looking up hair care tips online. This is what led me into discovering the healthy hair care community, specifically aimed towards aiding girls with kinky textured hair. This online niche would change my life.

This world I had dived into was spawned by the Web 2.0 era, which is when networking and participation online became more prevalent. The connective, virtual environment of social media allowed kinky-haired women to gather together and learn to take care of their hair. Success and mishaps using different grooming techniques and hair care products were documented and shared online. Black women finding out how to take care of their hair online sparked a revolution. In fact, this change is often coined the ‘Natural Hair Revolution.’

This title was given because many did the ‘big chop’, which is where women would cut off their unhealthy relaxed hair and wear out their natural texture. Whether girls chose to go natural or keep their hair straight, however, all individuals in this niche were on a ‘healthy hair care journey.’ This common phrase used within the community illustrates the struggles and growth, both physically and emotionally, involved with these women learning how to take care of and love their hair.

This social change was so big, salons and hair products companies were affected. Research from Mintel show that the sales of relaxers declined 26% in 2008, and another 15% since 2011. Due to the Natural Hair Revolution, relaxer products now only account for 21% of black hair care sales. On the other hand, hair care products aimed towards black hair saw an increase. Because more kinky-haired women were doing their hair at home, hair product sales went from $211 million in 2008, to an estimated $257 million in 2013. The haircare industry is a big industry, because products like conditioner are a necessity for kinky hair.

It wasn’t just hair tips and product reviews that were exchanged, but revolutionary ideas on the perceptions of kinky-textured hair also began to circulate. People in this online community began to question how the way someone’s hair grows out their scalp be deemed unacceptable, to where you can even be denied a job because of it. It became realized that a women of African descent straightening their kinky-textured hair to look like another ethnicity is self-hate and detesting part of their heritage.

When girls with naturally kinky-textured hair become part of this niche, many experience a type of ‘enlightenment.’ They find out the racist origins of ‘good hair and bad hair,’ they found out the real scientific reason it seems like their hair doesn’t grow, and they learn their hair isn’t some alien thing on their head. But the rest of the world remains backwards.

This community of ‘enlightened’ individuals is small, a minority that many don’t even realize exists. The outside world still holds many misconceptions about black hair, even from people with the hair type. You start to only feel understood by this online niche. Here, women are able to let their hair down and emphasize a part of themselves that the outside world often sees as an oddity. It’s s an escape that allows them to explore their identity and be comfortable in their own skins. The online hair care community provides shelter, support, and growth. Sometimes, you forget the outside world is still completely ignorant about this.

Then there are the ‘Natural Nazis.’ In this community, women who are labeled Natural Nazis try to force their ‘enlightened’ way of thinking onto others. Often accompanied with a disdainful and angry attitude, Natural Nazis preach in a way that’s like trying to hit non-believers in the head with the bible until the word is received. If you straighten your hair you hate yourself and your African heritage, no exceptions. There is only one way, one truth. These are the extremists of the online hair care community. There are many rant videos on YouTube of frustrated hair care gurus telling Natural Nazis to stop harassing them.

For many girls, the blogs, forums, and videos that make up the online hair care community were gleams of enlightenment in the darkness. While the way the Natural Nazi tries to teach others is horribly executed, I can understand the reasons behind their behavior. They don’t want other to suffer the way they did. When they see a girl who chooses to wear their hair straight, even if the girl is doing it in a healthy, even if she says she didn’t grow up believing her natural hair was ugly, the Natural Nazi projects their past selves onto them. They remember when they had straight hair and hated that part of themselves, and they want others to embrace themselves and also wake up. The Natural Nazi feels like others are ignorant and self-destructive, and it’s their mission to inform and halt the destructive path.

And for those completely outside the online Black hair care community, the Natural Nazi will not tolerate any ignorant, offensive comments. Part of their anger comes from knowing there is only a small number of ‘enlightened ones‘ like them in the world. Their alone, and the rest of the world doesn’t understand the issue, so they have to speak out every chance that get.

How do you make someone completely naive about the issue understand without making a big deal about it?

My half sister’s hair had become extremely dry, full of split-ends, and seemed like it wasn’t growing. Kinky-textured hair is just different, and so needs different grooming techniques from straight-haired majority. Kinky hair is just very curly hair, so it tends to be drier because the curlier your hair is, the harder it is for sebum (the natural oil your scalp products to lubricate your hair) to travel from the scalp to the ends. Women of African descent with kinky hair have the illusion that their hair doesn’t grow long because its dryness, along with the damaging practices often done to it, hinders its ability to retain length. Once it’s moisturized and conditioned properly, the hair grows at the same average rate as Caucasians, half an inch a month.

Kaylie’s mother had never learned how to take proper care of her hair, and wore weaves instead of her real hair all the time. She was taking care of Kaylie’s hair in a similar way, not moisturizing her hair properly and getting her hair weaved too often. I offered to do her hair on numerous occasions, but even when I scheduled a day for her to come over, she would always end up missing her appointment. I was at a dead end.

I couldn’t be more upfront about it. My advice was never asked for. Sure, I was her sister, but half. I was trying to critic a parent on how they took care of their child, moreover, on a sensitive issue like a young African American girl’s hair. I was also at a disadvantage because I was still often perceives as having multiracial ‘good hair,’ and so sometimes my advice was not received seriously by those with kinkier hair types.

Which was worse? Being too passive and letting it continue, or aggressively voicing your point til it’s received?

Though I disliked Chris Rock’s “Good Hair,” one positive was that the movie’s production caused the media to present this unknown topic to the masses. It was the catalyst that led to more constructive discussions and media exposure. Sesame Street, for example, made a video called “I Love My Hair.” The clip depicts a muppet with kinky-textured hair singing about why she loves her hair. The video was made when two Caucasian parents were concerned about the self-image of their adopted daughter from Ethiopia.

“. . . she wasn’t really loving her curls and wanted to have long, blonde, straight hair. She would put on wigs, she would want her hair like her mom’s or a Barbie,” The father and head writer of Sesame Street, Joey Mazzarino, said in an interview with Essence magazine, “and I thought maybe it was an issue because she was being raised by white parents… But then when Chris Rock’s film Good Hair came out… I realized, ‘Oh, this is a bigger issue. This isn’t just my child, it’s [happening with other] African-American girls.’”

The video was made by a dad for his daughter, wanting to show her that her hair was good the way it was. The video had gone viral on YouTube. Many women from the online hair care community voiced how touched they were by it, and how they wish they had this when they were growing

The first encounter I had with this video was when I heard the melody and pieces of the lyrics come from my brother’s room, accompanied by my brother’s and his friends’ sudden laughter. At the time, I didn’t know what they were laughing at. It sounded like it was some funny, absurd video that suddenly got shared to him, like Nyan Cat. It was only until later that day, in the small, safe world of the online hair care community, I would see that a Sesame Street video boosting little girl’s self-esteem was being talked about. I immediately recognized the melody when I played it.

Our younger sister was having self-esteem issues because of her hair, and my older brother wasn’t even aware. He and his friends, male perspectives, outsiders, were ridiculing a video that was teaching little African American girls to love themselves.

You can’t force your advice and opinions on others, but at the same time, living like an example and waiting until others ask you for hair advice doesn’t help either. It’s too passive, you feel like you’re not doing enough when you see a friend or family member damaging her hair because she doesn’t understand what she’s doing, or when someone says something ignorant and you let it slide.

I never talked to my brother about his inappropriate reaction afterwards. Inaction lets inappropriate behavior prosper. I was at fault for being to passive.

People need to be corrected or they’ll never learn, however, when it’s something more in the realm of correcting or criticizing someone on a more personal level, it needs to be handle with care. How to correct someone with care can be figured out by looking at the difference between nobly standing up for your minority and what Natural Nazis do. When someone says something ignorant, it’s often better not to show what anger or annoyance they stirred in you, or else it will make them feel attacked and inhibit them from listening. When criticizing a person’s insensitive actions, it’s also best to make it sound like it’s not criticism. Use the passive voice and focus less on their actions and more how their actions affected and hurt you.

Is this good enough? One ‘enlightened’ voice can only reach so far.

Being a busy college student (more specifically, a crazy one attempting 19 credits), I’ve been neglecting my hair care blog. It was recently that I was reminded the reason I first created the blog in the first place. To help kinky-haired girls who didn’t understand the many natures of their own hair and tell the unheard stories of this minority. The irony — wanting to become a magazine journalist on hair care and have a bigger voice was one of the the reasons I started majoring in journalism in the first place. My most popular post earned 48,232 page views, and five times I had been requested to be a guest blogger hair care sites at the top of the online niche. After graduation, I plan to reactivate my blog.

Kaylie, who is now 10 years old, no longer says she wishes her hair was straighter. She says she likes her hair the way she is. When I remind Kaylie that she used to say she didn’t like her hair, she says she doesn’t remember. The key that lead to her change of perspective was being mild yet persistent with her.

Being on a hair care journey taught me that progress, despite the dead end you walk into or setbacks you have from making mistakes, is being persistent and taking things one step at a time.

Sources

• http://www.aaregistry.org/historic_events/view/black-hair-care-and-culture-story
• http://www.naturallycurly.com/curlreading/kinky-hair-type-4a/the-evolution-of-black-hair-in-america/
• http://www.essence.com/2010/10/22/dad-made-i-love-my-hair-video-for-his-daughter
• http://tallncurly.com/category/curly-hair-comics/page/4/