Weave me a tale:
Hair, politics, and Africa. Lessons to be learnt form Americannah
“That hair, especially for black women, is never just hair, never just a private matter. Hair is always more than just hair. Hair speaks its own language and reveals things about the assumptions that belie our sense of beauty and its relationship to race and the feminine body.”
AINEHI EDORO
For a vast majority of women in the Western world styling their hair is a part of their morning routine. Wake up, wash, condition, dry, brush, curl, straighten, throw back into a quick pony tale, whatever suits the day, and sometimes the weather. I think very few of these women would see themselves as making a political statement with their hair, they would not think if they straighten their hair one day that they are perpetuating white stereotypes of beauty, or that if they perm it the next they may be accused of appropriating black culture. For black women, both African Americans and African women generally (a term I hate to use since there is no such thing as an ‘African woman,’ each is her own entity, belonging to a separate culture and nation) hair is impossible to separate from politics.
In Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s novel Americannah the heroine Ifemelu, a migrant form Nigeria to America, navigates the world of American blacks and non — American blacks. She uncovers truths about interracial dating, immigration, expatriation and the politics of hair. Zimiti Erasmus, a black woman from South Africa, has commented on the fact that there are 17 steps to good hair for her. Yes you did read that correctly, 17! Plus step 7 has an additional 5 steps, so we’re talking about 22 steps to manage and style her hair. I don’t know about you but my hair styling process consists of two maybe three steps (I have super straight, super flat hair).
1. Wake up
2. Brush Hair
The story of Ifemelu has opened my eyes to a whole world of hair management, and not just management, but also hair politics. Throughout the novel Ifemulu struggles with her hair, whether she should ‘relax’ it, straighten it, braid it or wear it ‘natural.’ In one scene, Ifemelu travels to get her hair braided in Trenton, New Jersey. Upon arriving she is asked what kind of braids she wants, zig-zag, cornrows, dutch braids, thick, thin, whether she wants to use hair attachments, and a whole host of other options. I don’t know about you, but I never even knew that cornrows and braids were different, or that it could take up to 6 painful hours to complete.
During this scene a white American girl called Kelsey comes into the shop to get her hair braided, in preparation for a trip to Africa. She is planning on visiting Kenya and the Congo, and comments to Ifemelu that she has been reading books to understand ‘how modern Africa works.’ This exchange can only be described as cringeworthy. Here Adichie challenges Western ideas about Africa, first and foremost that there is such a thing as Africa, and that you can understand it by watching films, reading books or visiting one country
Africa consists of 54 countries and has over 1500 languages; the idea that if you’ve been to one African country you’ve been to them all is ludicrous. Ifemelu constantly battles this stereotype throughout the novel. People tell her about their trips to South African safaris, or Kenyan orphanages, as if that connects them to her somehow, as though they have experienced African and therefore Nigerian culture. Reading the exchange between Kelsey, Ifemelu and the women working in the salon reminded me of my childhood desire to get my hair properly braided. As a child I always thought that one day I would go to a salon and get my hair professionally braided. As a child I thought it looked so cool, as an adult I realize that I would be like Kelsey, inadvertently stepping on toes and offending the very people I wanted to emulate. So this begs the question, is hair ever just hair? Was my nine year old self a racist, a cultural appropriator? The answer to both questions I believe, is no.
“Racial Hierarchies and values of colonial racism have left a deep mark on our conceptions of beauty”
ZIMITRI ERASMUS
Ifemelu searches throughout the novel, for other women with similar experiences to her to connect and share experiences with. She remarks at one point, ‘How many other people have become black in America.’ This line is particularly poignant. Ifemelu has always been black, her skin did not magically change colour when she arrived on American soil, but her identity became black in America. Black was black in Nigeria, but on American shores black is different, black is oppression, black is disadvantage, black is a race, and black is hair politics. Ifemelu herself states that hair is the perfect metaphor for race in America. As Ifemelu begins her life in America, hair is not something she is acutely aware of, however when she enters the corporate world, her friends encourage her to ‘relax’ her hair, a process that uses intense chemicals to straighten kinky hair. Eventually, the damage to Ifemelu’s hair causes it to fall out, and she questions why she is putting her hair through so much strain and toil for ‘white’ beauty standards.
“Relaxing your hair is like being in prison. You’re caged in. Your hair rules you. You didn’t go running with Curt today because you don’t want to sweat out this straightness. You’re always battling to make your hair do what it wasn’t meant to do.”
AMERICANNAH
When Ifemelu decides to stop relaxing her hair and cuts it short the reaction is immediate and varied. Her boyfriend Curt remarks that he thinks it’s brave, a co-worker asks if it is a political statement, and a woman who works at the cafeteria Ifemelu goes to asks if she’s become a lesbian. I war my hair in its ‘natural’ state almost every day. Not once in my life have I been told I am brave, or asked if my hair was political or if I had become a lesbian. We are so used to our whitewashed media and beauty standards, that a black woman, wearing her hair in its natural state becomes a talking point.
The perception and representation of black woman in the media, politics, film, television, the corporate world and many other fields leaves a lot to be desired. This creates a huge gap in the formation of identity and cultural practice. Again, one size cannot fit all, there is not one African woman, so nor is their one African identity. But women of colour deserve to see people they can identify with in all aspects of their lives, in the same way white women do. Robert Hinton has stated that ‘identity is associated with the joining and departures of social life,” but if all black women experience is departure, how does this affect their sense of identity? Adiche expertly represents this in her novel. Ifemelu is looking at a magazine called Essence, her boyfriend remarks it is racially skewed because it only depicts black models. Ifemelu immediately responds with anger, rightfully so and take Curt to a bookshop to examine Mainstream magazines.
“So three black women, in maybe two thousand pages of women’s magazines, and all of them are biracial or racially ambiguous… Not one of them is dark”
AMERICANNAH
She goes on to point out the various beauty tips in the magazine; pinch your cheeks to give them a rosy glow, a universal pink lipstick, perfect tips for perfect hair. Not one of which applies to a black woman. Of course there are famous black women, Beyoncé, Michelle Obama and so on. It is interesting to note thought that neither of these women wears their hair naturally. Ifemelu notes that if Michelle were to wear her hair in its natural kinky state, “Obama would certainly lose the independent vote, even the undecided Democrat votes.” It s quite a shocking claim, is it possible that the First Lady’s hairstyle could lose her husband an election? Most of us would like to think not. But as Americannah demonstrates (even though it is fictional) black women and their hair have power, to make statements and have statements made about them.
While there may not be a lot of black women in high status positions for other black women to look up to, celebrities such as the Kardashians appropriate a lot of black culture. The Kardashians are not shy to controversy, and this will not be the first time they have been accused of appropriating black culture. Kylie, the youngest of the Kardashian clan often wears her hair in braids and cornrows, causing quite a stir on Instagram.
“Can we ban Afro wigs at Halloween. Afro is not a costume, for God’s sake” AMERICANNAH
I cannot write an article such as this without acknowledging the irony of it. Here I am, a white woman, talking about the lack or role models for black woman, and criticizing other white woman for appropriating black culture. I am not black, but I can acknowledge that racism exists. That I am privileged, that I can turn on the television to any channel, open any magazine, and find someone who looks like me. That I can wear my hair without worrying that people will think I’m making a political statement. That I can write an article on a topic like this without fearing people will accuse me of playing the race and pity card. Americannah has a lot of lessons to teach, about identity, globalization, love, women, politics, immigration and hair. Most of all I think it teaches that the power is not on your head but in it.
“Posting on the website was like giving testimony in church: the echoing roar of approval revived her”
AMERICANNAH
By Hannah Browne
