I loved Liza’s post last Wednesday about her daughter’s hair.
Some of you who know me from other blogs and spaces know that hair–that is the celebration of curly, untameable, big hair–is part of my personal anti-racist crusade. I want girls and women whose ancestry gives them curly hair, coarse hair, kinky hair and nappy hair to love their tresses (not just learn to put up with them). I know–HAIR–it seems trivial. But to many little black girls it is so not. It is the thing about ourselves that we learn to hate early. (And I know that it’s not just black girls who absorb hair hate, but I think it is particularly ingrained with us.)
I know black girls like me spent hours between our mothers’ knees, agonizing while our hair was pulled, twisted and manipulated into submission. Our black mothers and grandmothers–they learned that the way to care for black hair, which tends to be coarse and kinky, is to try to subdue it with perms, hot combs and the like. They learned that having black hair cared for naturally hurts. And they learned that the tools used to care for straighter, finer hair should also be used on hair with West African roots. They learned to trust companies whose minimal knowlege of us doesn’t stop them from wanting to make a buck with beautifying (and damaging) miracle lotions and potions. They learned and they passed that “knowledge” on to us–their daughters. And we continue the cycle of pain and struggle against our hair.
Few of us ever consider that hair that refuses to lay down is as worthy as hair that will. Few of us ever consider that combing kinky hair is painful because kinky hair shouldn’t be combed–at least not dry. Few of us realize that caring for our hair doesn’t need to hurt. Few of us question an unhealthy dependence on chemical straighteners. We simply wrap ourselves in the standards and practices of the dominant culture–never seeing what it does to us. Frankly, it is no wonder that adoptive mothers of other races and mothers of biracial children can be confused about caring for black or biracial hair. Many owners of black or biracial hair are just as confused.
A blog sister once pointed out that black women in the West are the only women who, as a whole, spend their lives never knowing the real texture of their hair. A lot of black women have a story like this: First the hot comb to straighten hair…then someone suggests a “kiddie” chemical relaxer…then comes the stronger relaxer…then we run to get that relaxer every six weeks until we die. Or, maybe we decide to wear a weave using the imported hair of a woman from another race who has “better” hair.
In between trips to the salon, we avoid swimming and we avoid the rain like it will melt us. Some of us avoid physical exertion that might create moisture and make our hair “go back” to its roots. The wonderful book “Tenderheaded” sadly includes several stories of black women obsessing over their hair even in the most intimate moments. A woman named Arlene, who religiously wears a hair weave, shares:
What I notice more than anything about my lovemaking is that, no matter what kind of style I have, I always keep my eyes open to make sure that my partner isn’t coming for my head! I never let my head get in the way of the action!
I ask Arlene what it feels like to be a sentry-on-duty while she’s making love. It seems impossible to enjoy yourself while maintaining that kind of vigilance over your partner’s moves.
“It’s not a problem, really,” Arlene explains. “You learn to protect your hair by moving your neck back and forth, and swinging your head from side to side to avoid contact. You stay on top, and learn to master the superior position, that’s all.”
That’s all. An experience that is supposed to be spontaneous and joyful is choreographed like a 1940s MGM dance musical.
What does it say about black women’s self esteem that we struggle so hard against our natural selves and then teach our daughters to do the same? I think living a life thinking that some part of yourself is difficult and deficient–a handicap to be managed and hidden–is soul destroying. That is why I think the hair thing is not as trivial as it appears, and why I appreciate moms like Liza who try to help curly daughers embrace their natural texture.
For those looking for good resources for the care of natural curly or kinky hair, try these:
Books
Curly Girl (Great for curly girls of all races. If I’m not mistaken, author Lorraine Massey pioneered the “conditioner wash” or “no-poo” method of cleansing that many women with kinky or curly hair favor.)
Good Hair: For Colored Girls Who’ve Considered Weaves When the Chemicals Became Too ‘Ruff
No Lye: An African American Woman’s Guide to Natural Hair Care
Hair Story: Untangling the Roots of Black Hair in America
Tenderheaded
Web sites
Nappturality (Truly the mother of all natural black hair care Web sites. Includes articles, photos and an extremely active forum. Look for the section on caring for children’s hair.)
You Tube
Katelynylyn Channel
Najahface Channel
Style Inspiration
Image courtesy of Pheno09on Flickr.com.
Great post.
I was amazed at how many black women advised me to put chemicals on the hair of our girls at the ages of 2 and 3, when they arrived.
I refused and instead learned all I could about braids and twists and such.
However, our youngest hated getting her hair done no matter how I combed or brushed. She loved her hair when it was done but panicked and tantrumed during combing.
So, her hair is now in braidlocks. Her older sister soon made the same choice.
I get that locks can be a somewhat controversial thing on a young girl. But why is everyone so quick to suggest damaging chemicals instead?!
I was wondering if someone could talk about hair care for boys. It’s been a little difficult to find as much information about the issues for males, and I’m wondering what I should expect for my one-year-old son (if his hair ever grows in! He’s still mostly bald).
Perdita,
Our son is almost 2 and is Black. We cut his hair a few months ago and plan to keep it short for the summer.
For a few months, prior to cutting it, I kept it loose or in large twists.
For now we just buzz his hair all off at home.
ok – I haven’t even finished reading the post but I have to comment about this:
“kinky hair shouldn’t be combed–at least not dry”
THIS is the TRUTH.
The hours of pain at my mother’s hand due to not understanding this fact can never be gotten back.
The problem was further compounded by all the teen magazines I read that kept telling me that you should *never* brush your hair while wet. I did it…I just felt guilty for it…thinking that somehow I’d pay for my transgression.
This hair thing is deep. Ok – back to the rest of the post!
Curly Girl looks like a great book! It’s so interesting to hear about hair from another perspective — my holocaust-survivor grandmother insisted on me always blowdrying my hair straight so that I wouldn’t “be so obviously Jewish”. A lot of my family members are still confused that I would risk giving myself away by wearing my hair naturally. I guess hair causes angst for all sorts of different reasons.
I have a 18 month old son (black). At 1 year he had his first haircut – about 5 inches! He had a serious ‘fro when his ringlets were combed out. I shampoo with Burts Bees & use Carol’s Daughter leave in conditioner & hair milk. I appreciate that they are both natural.
Love the post!! My 7 year old girl has had dreads since she joined our family at almost 3. I personally don’t use a comb (having softly curly, short hair) so we don’t really have one in the house (until recently when my straighthaired older one started to try to comb a z in her hair or create a mohawk…). As a European-born and raised white woman, where short hair was more the norm, I’m still utterly confused by the attention on hair in the US, from all groups!! When my 20something white unmarried girlfriends admire my short do, they say they can’t afford to cut their hair because they are not married yet… My kids’ mostly latina friends compete with each other in how long their hair can get, with the longest being the most desirable. My Asian friends range from very punky short to down to their waists, by always with some drama with it. Black women (and men) in my life are either staunchly natural (dreads down to their waists being quite common) or staunchly straight. I get various comments on my daughters dreads, usually of the supportive kind from the ‘natural’ crowd and the frowning from the ‘unnatural’ (probably not the right word). I truly wish hair could be de-dramatized, for us to have more FUN with it rather than it being serious business (with still the belief by some that dreads or natural kinky hair not being professional). Currently I have decided that some large swats of bright pink would be fun, to be followed in a couple of weeks by blue, I think. I know the person who cuts my hair, and still asks every time if I want to have some product in it…, is appalled about my lack of seriousness about my hair. And I’m loving that and I have every intention of instilling a playful attitude towards hair to my blond straight-haired as well as my dread-head kids… Thanks for continuing to bring up the hair topic as it deserves to be outed as being taken too seriously.
“Frankly, it is no wonder that adoptive mothers of other races and mothers of biracial children can be confused about caring for black or biracial hair. Many owners of black or biracial hair are just as confused.”
Amen. Any white adoptive mother of a child with kinky hair will be bombarded with aggressive advice, and none of it will agree.
Comb when wet vs. never comb when wet vs. don’t ever comb at all vs. you must comb even if it hurts you child…
Pink lotion is the absolute best vs. BB’s is the best vs. never use mineral oil products…
Style that baby’s inch and a half of hair into braids and barrettes immediately! Don’t you know what you’re doing? vs. All a baby’s hair needs is gentle combing and moisture… and on and on.
Even when you’re doing a great job, the pressure and critiquing is enormous, and held as the one and only standard of whether your child is loved and well cared for (if that is thought possible at all.)
It took me years to love my hair. It is now in dreadlocks in the middle of my back and it is the best decision that I ever made. I think part of the angst regarding hair is that it is such a reminder that we are not white. When we are struggling against our hair in actuality we are struggling against that which we perceive makes us different..Does anyone remember Malcolm after getting his first conk asking if his hair looked white?
I’m moved by this post, by the universal story you tell: As a black woman, it’s all about hair. Until you come to terms with that relationship, life is not genuine. I know. If the story from the sister worrying about her hair during sex weren’t so sad, it would be funny. Instead, it’s a cautionary tale. Thank you for sharing it.
Marian, you are being unfairly judged. Hair is an easy way for a nosy person to determine whether they think you are making an effort to learn about your child’s different needs and tend to them. I have seen girls with non-African moms who clearly did not know what to do and kept my mouth shut. Some friends in college finally learned how to manage their hair at that late stage in life. Any conflicting advice on a silk pillow vs a silk scarf?
-by “not know what to do” the hair appeared dry and w/o any particular style (braids, curls, straightened, twists, cornrows, finger waves, jheri curls, gelled baby hair, afro, whatever).
Another fantastic, self-affirming website for natural hair is http://www.afrobella.com. The author blogs about all things beauty, including hair and skin care. It is a wonderfully fun and informative look @ the diverse hair journeys for people of color.
ARP is a fantastic website and I am glad that I stumbled across it. Keep up the good work!!
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I loved this post. I spend a lot of time worrying about my daughter’s hair styles and stress about what others think of how I style it. I worry about fuzz. I feel like their styles are a reflection on my parenting! A heavy burden but there….
I loved the links and can’t wait to try the styles on Katelynylyn’s videos!
Thank You Tami!
Lunanoire wrote: “I have seen girls with non-African moms who clearly did not know what to do and kept my mouth shut.”
Same here. It’s like with anything: I answer if asked.
However, I do recall in Barbara Katz Rothman’s book about transracial adoption, family, and race (“Weaving a Family”), she wrote about how when her black adopted daughter was about one or two, her neighbor sent her daughter over to get them saying, “Barbara…it’s time.” The neighbor then taught her about using hair grease and the different ways she could style her daughter’s hair. Rothman appreciated that outreach, but I still wouldn’t do it myself.
“Some friends in college finally learned how to manage their hair at that late stage in life. Any conflicting advice on a silk pillow vs a silk scarf?”
Scarves slip off the head, so I would suggest pillows. But then again, my kids’ heads also slip off pillows onto the sheets. Silk sheets??? LOL.
I have two AA daughters and my older is almost 5. I have done her hair in locs for quite a while now, and as soon as I can I am going to start them on the baby. They are easy to care for, and now that they are long enough we can twist and clip and braid and ponytail, and bead…..I would really, really recommend it. I think they are just adorable on her! The internet is a great thing–found out how to start and maintain locs online. Nappturality is great too!
How thought provoking this is! I am not black, but as a hispanic woman, I do have curly hair and I have fought it all of my life. I realize it’s not the same, but now I’m questioning why I have straightened and ironed my hair for so many decades now… It was the “melting” fear that struck a cord in me. I avoid rain/humidity/sweating like the plague. I obviously have soul searching to do – not just for my children, but myself as well.
>How thought provoking this is! I am not black, but as a hispanic woman, I do have curly hair and I have fought it all of my life. I realize it’s not the same, but now I’m questioning why I have straightened and ironed my hair for so many decades now
gigi: considering the history of people of African descent in many Latino nations and communities, and the historical and current colorism, it’s likely got the same, forgive me, roots as many African-American and African-descent hair issues.
I loved this post, I have natural hair, and did not know how to take care of it. I was combing it when dry and hair would be all over the sink, I went online to check and see how to care for it, saved my hair. I have been natural for 6 months and my hair is 3 inches, I shaved my head bald in Jan. 2008, so my hair grows 1/2 per month. I love http://www.nappurality.com/BHF and LHF, I always comb my hair in the shower, and add leave in condition and IC Fantasia gel, makes my curls pop big time, and it shouldn’t matter if your biracial or not as far as hair goes, it’s cirly 3a,3b,4a,4b, still curl patterned hair and has to be wet before combed to avoid frizz and breakage.
Being a natural haired woman of color, I relate directly to this. As a child, my hair was pressed then permed, it was just what everyone did. When I was about 10, I asked my mom if I could have less of a perm (keeping the perm on for less time), so that my hair would not be so straight, she agreed. The comments we received, particularly from my mom’s sister was crazy, you would have thought my mom hadn’t combed, washed or done anything to my hair in ages they way they were acting.
As a teenager, I went back and forth with perming, being natural, pressing, wearing weaves, etc. but, I think that just something teenagers do. When I decided to live as natural a lifestyle as possible, natural hair just went into the equation. I’ve been natural for years now, at least 8 or so, even my 64 year old mother rocks an afro. Its just acceptance of self, no matter what that entails.
I do think it may be a bit easier for younger people to acept their natural texture now (I may be wrong) I see natural, kinky, nappy headed persons on televsion and in ads frequently, a huge difference from when I was younger. I work in a middle school and there is a considerable number of children inmy school who wear there hair naturally be it in locs, loose or curly.
I really related to this article and everyone’s comments. I’m black and white, and for most of my childhood my thick, tightly curly hair was relaxed by my mom (who is black). During my teenage years, I went to live with my dad and stepmom, who are both white, in an all white neighboorhood, went to schools that were nearly all white, and everyone on that side of the family was white. I tried to relax my hair myself, and ended up with scabs all over my head, as well as broken, short crunchy hair that always looked weird. I hated my hair, and was so ashamed of it. I felt like it singled me out and made sure I couldn’t do “normal” things normally, like swimming, showering, getting caught in the rain. Nearly thirty years later, I decided to learn how to take care of my natural hair, and grew out the chemicals. It was the first time I’d seen my real hair in my life. I experimented with how to care for it, and figured out what it needed. Now my natural curls hang down well past my stomach. I love my hair. It gives me a unique look, and people from all races compliment me on it. I put together a website with some tips to help others with hair like mine, and also so kids like me wouldn’t feel like the freak I did with their hair (BiracialHair.info). Thank you so much again for this discussion.
As a white adoptive mother of Black and Bi-racial kids, hair has always been an issue for me. I am hypervigilant about my daughter’s hair, wanting to make sure that it looks acceptable to Blacks and is not a focus of mean comments by her white peers. Her hair is thick, and kinky and nappy and she and I have spent countless hours washing, detangling, combing, braiding and or twisting, while she wailed and I broke a sweat. Finally, about 3 months ago, I put about 150 tiny twist in her hair and decided to leave them in. With the help of a website called Nappylocks, I can tighten the new growth every 5 weeks and she has a very cool, very cute set of locks that give her the freedom to swim, sweat, and be out in the rain. I love her hair and so does she! Check out the website- http://www.nappylocks.com.
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Its been very hard for me to understand how so many younger women (I’m in my 40s) have had such a struggle in the effort to ‘go natural’. Women *older* than me, or my age, sure. But younger women?
One of my friends pointed out that it was because a plenty of Black girls’ mothers heartily adopted perms for kids as soon as they started being made available, and they’ve never consciously experienced their hair in its natural texture. My mother steadfastly refused to perm my hair, and after seeing so many older Black women sport wigs, I agreed. I grew up wearing my hair in cornrows, afros, and occasionally pressed. After years of braiding, now I’m rocking locs. I’m glad that so many younger women are going natural, its a crucial part of hte process of decolonization.