Dismantling The Politicization of Black Hair Through Media:
What is it about the women in shampoo commercials? You know the women that always happen to have magically shiny hair with perfectly defined curls, zero frizz, and the biggest smiles plastered across their faces. At some point, I assume we have all been a bit jealous of the shampoo girls. Their journey to perfect hair takes all of 5 seconds and it is completely painless. What a joke right?
Those commercials and beauty advertisements usually debuted two or three revolutionary products and a measly five-step regimen. The beauty in their bouncy waves, stylish spirals, and silky straight silhouette is presented as effortless, and so for a long time, I resented those gorgeous shampoo girls. I resented them because my hair is not effortless, and according to mainstream media it was not beautiful either. I even began to hate those shampoo girls because they convinced me that there was no such thing as bad days, only bad hair.
I promise I wasn’t always so cynical toward shampoo girls. In fact, when I was younger and back when my hair was permed straight, I felt inspired by them. They taught me that there was no such thing as bad days, only a bad hair day. For me, and many other impressionable Black girls those commercials were a call to action. I had two options, I could either sit there and feel ugly or I could do something about it. Doing something about it always equated to spending countless hours in a salon chair. After hours of manipulation, my hair would even begin to resemble theirs, folding and parting in all the right places. The process was arduous and painful, but afterward, I’d get to look like them. I’d get to be beautiful like those shampoo girls.
My mother would often tell me, beauty is pain.
She’d offer that token of wisdom as a form of encouragement. Normally, she would use similar comments to quiet my incessant complaining, but that rarely worked. I would complain about everything, because truthfully, I hated this alleged beautification process. I hated sitting with my neck in awkward positions. I’d whine each time the hot comb would sizzle in my ear. But more than anything, I would wail about the mind-numbing pain.
It wasn’t the pain of having to wake up early for each Saturday morning appointment that got me. It wasn’t even the pain of multiple chemical burns left bare on my scalp. The unshakeable pain came from knowing how far I stood from beauty and the amount of grueling transformation that rested between us.
Still, the lack of visibility in media for diversity in hair textures accompanied by the stigma surrounding natural hair is not a simple marketing oversight. Beyond making Eurocentric features the standard of beauty in the United States laws were created to police and control the way Black women presented their hair to the world.
Since the late 18th century Black women have faced oppression in the United States for wearing natural hairstyles. Whether it was a gravity-defying fro in the early ’70s, glorious locs, bouncy spiral curls or cultural braiding. Black women, in particular, have been shamed, scrutinized and dismissed based on the choice of hairstyles for generations.
Aging back to the Tignon Law in 1786, which aimed to prohibit women of color from displaying excessive attention in New Orleans. At the time the law stipulated that creole women had to wear a tignon, a type of head covering or scarf, in order to cover their hair and to signify they were members of the slave class. Not only did their white female counterparts see them as a threat, but this hatred inspired laws to further oppress the enslaved.
Hundreds of years later, following slavery, Reconstruction, Jim Crow laws and the Civil Rights movement Black people continue to encounter similar issues today. The discrimination against natural Black hair has permeated into school systems, workplace environments and even media depictions.
From detention, in-school suspensions and expulsion Black students face punishments and deal with microaggressions from both students and faculty. Believe it or not, corporate entities went as far as to incorporate obscure language to prohibit certain hairstyles popular to the Black community, simply by labeling them unprofessional and unkept. In doing so, these acts of discrimination hinder African American’s access to quality education and professional advancement. Corporations and school administrators will go as far as implement targeted language or specific verbiage to uphold a particular dress code. A dress code that often negatively affects Black female students more than any other group in the student body.
Among the many instances of discrimination, Faith Fennidy, an 11-year-old student at Christ the King Parish School in New Orleans is just one example of the type of marginalization that Black children face due to their hair. While being filmed by her fellow classmates Fennidy sobbed after being asked to leave class because of her braids. With no real understanding of why such extreme measures were being taken against her, the then 11-year-old could only express confusion and humiliation.
When addressed by Fennidy’s parents and legal team, the school administration claimed that her hairstyle violated the student handbook. As it expressly states, “only the student’s natural hair is permitted. Extensions, wigs, hairpieces of any kind are not allowed.” But what actually constitutes natural?
Although, schools are not the only breeding grounds for injustice or hair discrimination. Chasity Jones encountered a similar situation after being offered a customer service representative position at Catastrophe Management. Her offer letter did hinge on one detail though, the removal of her locs. Catastrophe Management’s hiring manager told the offeree, Jones, “they tend to get messy.” Yet after such comments were made, Jones’s legal team still lost her Equal Employment Opportunity Commission lawsuit.
As horrific as both of these situations are, neither of these instances is considered rare and with numerous cases going unresolved, legislation was created. In 2019 the CROWN Act which stands for Create a Respectful and Open World for Natural Hair passed the house in order to create a more equitable environment for Black people.
“It shocks me to learn that it required a law to give black people permission to simply exist in the professional and academic settings,” Vanessa Watkins a long-time school administrator remarked in regards to the CROWN Act.
Along with the CROWN Coalition the CROWN Act aims to ensure protection against discrimination, based on race-based hairstyles by extending statutory protection to hair texture and protective styles such as braids, locs, twists, and knots in the workplace and public-school institutions. Although today this vital piece of legislature is only in effect in a handful of states, its mission continues to inspire efforts toward equality across the United States.
Luckily, over the past ten years, Black women and the spectrum of our hair have incrementally made their way into mainstream media. As more women have decided to ditch the abrasive chemicals and embrace their given hair texture and share their stories the natural hair movement has welcomed a new generation of girls into its community of acceptance. In turn, forcing hair care lines, clothing brands and beauty companies to diversify not only their products — but its messaging. But the initiative to dismantle the politicization of black hair continues as creators become more intentional about debuting black beauty in its rawest forms.
Extending visibility toward Black women in a positive light was the drive behind the documentary Black Girl Church. Creators of the film admit that it “started off as a love letter to black girls, one of our safe spaces and the creativity that comes out of a place that is all our own.” Black Girl Church turned into a project that highlighted the ingenuity and creativity of every black girl who entered. The documentary works as an intimate portrayal of the realities of black beauty and the dynamics that sustain the black beauty industry while maintaining diversity.
Audrey Williams, beauty journalist and co-creator of Black Girl Church saw such a positive response to the film that served women of all ages to experience a new sense of community.
What many might not understand is how much beauty supply stores represent to Black people everywhere. Even incorporating its meaning into the title, the creators of Black Girl Church saw a chance to represent the environment for the solace that it served as for black women. Between each aisle of makeup, lashes, wigs, braiding hair and weave lied opportunities for reinvention and self-expression without criticism or policing. Despite societal views on black hair, black women continue to amaze the world by successfully and creatively using their skills to transform, redefine and set trends on style. The black beauty industry is key in supporting these trends and impacting culture.
Marissa Pena, co-creator of Black Girl Church shares a hopeful look into the future of not only the beauty industry but the world. Noting that it is not only vital but long overdue for black women to see themselves freely.
Pena says, “the sharing of black stories includes featuring all textures of hair, rather than tokenizing media curls.
Some have noticed the sudden uptick in media curls over the last few years. Media curls refer to the polite spirals that have recently made their way in mainstream media. In a lazy attempt to incorporate diversity while still prioritizing Eurocentric features, media curls have been fetishized and exploited. Yet the team behind Black Girl Church took a very different path. Due to the reality of beauty supply stores and the intentional efforts to remain authentic, the film highlights the simple pleasures of shopping alongside women who experience the world in the same way you do.
Because that is the sanctuary of black beauty supply stores and the magic behind ideas that formed Black Girl Church, the CROWN Act and decorative personalization of tignons. For 11-year-olds like Faith and well-equipped professionals like Chasity, it is nice to escape to a world where hair is simply hair. It is not a weapon that denies access to betterment nor a source of shame and embarrassment. Black hair shouldn’t require a debate or a bill to exist peacefully.
Now, thanks to social platforms the growing voice of the black collective has opened the doors to celebrate each texture and every coil. Thus, empowering black women to ditch the shame associated with natural hair and embrace the true beauty of something so unique. In fact, I don’t know if it was an act of teenage rebellion or some form of symbolic protest, but those same feelings led me I cut off all my hair. I had given up the religious practice of Saturday salon visits and chemical conversions. That very special Friday evening, I was finally introduced to my hair and welcomed into a community that chose self-love, and it was magical. Some parts of her were shy, and she’d shrink in the presence of water. Other parts of her were dramatic, that section loves to defy gravity. Each coil was unique and yet familiar.
After all, as Pena puts it, “black girls simply wish to exist with our hair.”
