Written by Asha; Originally published at New Jersey to Nigeria
You know what? I have BEAUTIFUL HAIR. It’s shiny and lustrous. I have the kind of hair you see in hair commercials, like this:
I married a Nigerian man. When I met him, he had dreadlocks. Now he shaves his head once a week, almost to the scalp. His hair would grow like this if he let it.
We have three children whose hair is unlike their parents… or one another’s. And you know what? They have BEAUTIFUL HAIR.
There seems to be universal agreement that my hair is great. But not everyone agrees with me about my kids. I know the politics are complex but I don’t believe that the more African your hair is, the less attractive it is.
Bear has soft, thick hair. It tangles easily. When it is long and she wears it down–i.e., not now–I have to detangle it for forty-five minutes before we can leave the house. She has tight curls. Her hair grows up into the sky, not down to her shoulders. It grows very fast. It is hard to give her a good haircut but it has been done:
Bala’s hair is thinner and finer than her sister’s. Her hair grows down in soft corkscrew curls. Detangling her hair in the morning takes five minutes, tops. Her hair also grows fast. It is hard to give her a bad haircut.
Baby has the thinnest, straightest, finest hair of the bunch. His scalp is visible in places. He has loose curls that never need detangling. Unlike his sisters, you can easily run a comb through his hair. We keep his hair cut short.
We went to a Dominican hair salon in West Orange, NJ over the summer. I thought the owner might be able to manage cutting the kids curls. But what I didn’t count on was the ceaseless commentary on the textures they found most pleasing.
“It’s too bad,” the salon owner told seven-year-old Bear. “You don’t have good hair. Your brother got the good hair in the family. His hair isn’t as curly as yours. His is better than yours.”
I was aghast.
“She’s perfect the way she is,” I interjected.
When the owner’s daughter tried to talk me into getting a relaxer–chemicals that would straighten Bear’s hair–I was MAD.
“She’s just a child,” I said. “She can relax her hair when she’s older if she wants to but I’m not going to put chemicals on her head. I want her to know we think she’s beautiful the way she is.”
The salon owner looked at me like I was crazy.
Now the chink in my armor was this: I have no ability to manage my children’s hair. I can spray them with conditioner and detangle them before school. I can wash their heads when they shower. But I can’t style their hair to save my life. When I braid my own straight hair, it’s a simple process that a toddler could perform.
When Bear got her hair braided in New Jersey, however, it took half the day. The women who did the braiding took hours to pull out her tangles, wash her hair, and blow-dry it. Their hands flew over my daughter’s head, combing out little hexagons, and weaving dozens of thin, identical braids. They were artists.
They were also Saints for listening to Bear cry, complain, and writhe around in her chair the entire time.
My daughters are tender-headed. They can’t stand the pain of someone touching their hair. Because their hair grows so fast and because they think they look fabulous all the time, I cut their hair short before moving to Nigeria. I wanted to make life as simple as possible for us.
I get all sorts of well-meaning advice I try to ignore:
“Learn to braid it.” I’ve tried for eight years and it’s not going well.
“Don’t cut it. It won’t grow back.” It grows FAST, I swear.
“Too bad you’re not the black one in the marriage. Then you’d know all sorts of hairstyles.” That is not helpful though I secretly agree.
When we were in NJ, Bear had begun crying often because she wanted thin hair like her sister.
Not surprising. Bear has always been our kid most sensitive to matters of race.
When she was one-years-old, she stood up in her crib, stared at me and Mike and looked gobsmacked.
“Papa being black! Mama being white!” she cried.
“No, no,” Mike said. “We’re all brown. Bear is brown. Papa is dark brown. Mama is light brown.”
“Papa being black! Mama being white!” she insisted.
She wanted to know why she was different than her parents. She talked about what colors we were constantly. She couldn’t understand where she fit in.
I told her Papa was dark like coffee and I was light like milk. Then I poured milk into coffee and showed her the lovely tan color it produced. “That’s you, Bear. A mix of both your parents.”
Then–for the sake of full disclosure–I added two Splendas and drank the coffee. I hope I didn’t inflict any emotional damage but it was morning and I needed help waking up.
Bala and Baby never struggled with their skin color. They barely seemed to notice. Why would they? They looked just like their older sister. Bear paved the way for them. She beats back a path through the jungle for her siblings everyday. They walk easily behind her without a second thought to the amount she has slaved to deliver them there.
So… so what? How is Nigeria the Promised Land? What does hair and race have to do with any of this?
Well, the kids are at a new school. And since it’s the start of the semester, I just got a list of extracurricular activities I can sign them up for. There are things like Brownies, the young engineers club, kwik cricket, and Bollywood dance club.
There is also a class called, “ALL THINGS HAIR (braiding, weaving, etc.)”
Wait, let me say that again so it can sink in.
There is a class called, “ALL THINGS HAIR (braiding, weaving, etc.)”
Can you imagine? Once my daughters are in third grade, they can learn to style their hair from the African teachers at school.
I AM THRILLED. THEY ARE THRILLED. WE ARE THRILLED, COLLECTIVELY, AS A FAMILY.
In the car on the way home from school, I said to the kids, “Isn’t that amazing? It’s so cool that there’s a class like that. Now you guys can learn all sorts of fabulous hairstyles.”
“Can I take it, Mama?” Bala asked.
“Yes, when you’re older.” I said. “There was never a class like that at your old school in New Jersey. What a cool thing about Nigeria.”
“There never would have been a class like that because most people had straight hair there,” Bear explained. “But in Nigeria, everyone has hair like us.”
Did you hear that?
The ease with which my sensitive, anxious daughter claimed Nigeria blew my mind. In this country, people are like us, she said. In the U.S., where she lived her entire life, Bear had begun to hate herself a little. How could she not when so many well meaning people–like the hairdresser in West Orange–told her she should?
I am hoping that by moving here at such a critical stage in Bear’s development, she will see that she is a beautiful child. Instead of lamenting she’s not Indian like her mom or white like Lilly–a girl in her former school she never shuts up about–she will embrace her brown skin and thick curly hair.
And if that happens, I will be right that on that front at least, Nigeria is the Promised Land.
The pressure in the US on girls is intense. It’s wonderful that your child is having a positive experience living in another country. With luck the others will, too!
Thank you for this beautiful post.
Dominican salons are notorious for haircare focus on straightening hair. I have never met a Dominican hair dresser who liked curly and kinky hair textures. The focus is on straight hair being beautiful. I would never bring my child to a Dominican salon for that very reason as we don’t focus on straightening hair. I remember reading a story by a Black woman who had locs who experienced people shouting negative things at her about her hair in the Dominican Republic. It is what it is.
(Sidenote: I don’t need to be told that there are Dominicans who love natural kinky and curly hair. I am speaking on my experiences only and the awareness of many women I know who specifically go to Dominican salons to get their hair straightened with heat and/or relaxer)
I hope you take the hair braiding and weaving classes in Nigeria too so you can learn how to do your babies’ hair.
[Mod note: This is important to talk about but let's be careful with generalizations as the conversation continues. Thanks.]
Great mothering transcends race. Good for you! (and your lucky kids)
This article from last year talks about how Nigerian women view their own hair in Nigeria and the influences on the changes in how hair is styled.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2011/dec/16/curls-nigerian-women-straight?mobile-redirect=false
Alex…you are definitely on the money! I have experienced that at Dominican salons. I’m a mixed-race woman who looks white, but my hair is decidedly kinky (“pelo malo” in Spanish, I believe). So I can verify that there is truth in your statement.
Now as to this article…it was very well written. I appreciate the fact that the author tries to instill self-love in her children, especially her daughter, because it is true that many people are quick to disparage women and girls with kinky curls. This can be extremely detrimental to a little brown girl’s self-esteem and body image. Kudos to the author for seeing just how wrong this is.
With that said, I want to point out that not all Black women have innate knowledge of hair care for little brown girls either. Not all Black mothers know how to braid or style hair. Some will relax a toddler’s hair because they don’t know what else to do. And there are still some Black mothers who use products that are either harmful or intended for Caucasian hair on their children.
My mother took care of my hair as best she could, but she still couldn’t handle my long thick hair. I had my first relaxer at 11 years old and I walked around looking a hot mess throughout my teens. I never quite learned how to take care of my hair. My mom is black and white, just like me, and her knowledge of proper hair care is limited.
Author Mama, I think it is wonderful that you refused to let that woman relax Bear’s curls. That sends a message of acceptance to your daughter…it means more than words alone. By not relaxing her hair, it shows that you accept her natural beauty and you aren’t pushing her toward a Eurocentric ideal.
Once again, kudos to you!
BTW…it is majorly cool that the kids will learn how to style their own hair. I wish a class like that had been available when I was growing up.
Bravo! Don’t know where to begin but this is one of the best pieces on ethnic hair I’ve ever read. For starters your baby is really talking early! Good for you. How wonderful and what beautiful children. And secondly it is easy to control the hair textures above if you choose. Relaxers can be used once and then only applied at the roots and even then they can be mild and simply used for unwinding the curl thereafter. You can do them at home a few times a year (depending on the hair, relaxers used to unwind longer curls for more pliability do not have to be used each month) after learning how or you can keep it short. There ARE salons where you won’t have to hear that rubbish but in general learning to do it at home makes things so much easier and has saved us thousands of dollars. You can of course opt out (I’ve done all three options) just putting them out there. Thirdly, thank you for mentioning how much prejudice one can face being mixed or black and getting their hair done. I posted myself about friends who dealt with this at The Beauty Connection Santa Rosa simply for wanting a deep conditioning treatment. “You could have dread locks like Bob Marley” and “You wear wigs? How does it all fit and not be a giant lump?” was heard emanating from the white “stylists” mouth. And I’ll never forget going in to place called Glemby at mall once with relaxer damaged hair and asking simply “what do you charge”, the look from the Paul Deen clone (love Paula. not saying she’s racist just giving you a set up) was “You want YOUR hair done”? Spoken like I’d asked her to clean my toilet with her toothbrush. Like a robot I lied and said I was “oh no, just asking for friend” and then turned tail and ran. Oh those Raygun 80s! Lastly, I do not feel historic injustices that all POC have faced excuse anyone’s bad behavior in this day and age. I can’t feel any empathy for the “good hair” and “too bad you have the bad hair” POC nor the white ones. At some point it becomes all our responsibility not to defer to white supremacy. Once again, FANTASTIC PIECE! Thank you!
PS: I only mentioned “easy to control” above because the author mentioned feeling baffled and wondering about options. I think they look just beautiful as is!
Great piece and really interesting to read! It’s cool that the school offers such a class on hair and as a fellow expat I agree with what you say about letting your kids live in a place where they don’t have to always feel like they’re the “only one” of their kind.
Hi there. This is the author of the piece. I wanted to thank you all for taking the time to read this. Your comments were interesting, lovely, thought-provoking, etc.
We are here in Lagos and family is visiting. Bear’s West Indian grandma took her aside yesterday and told her she needed a weave or a relaxer. When my husband–her son–objected that Bear is only eight, my m-i-l countered that then she should have twists so her hair will look like her sister, Bala’s.
My husband was so ANGRY. he told his mom that Bear shouldn’t be made to feel bad about her hair. It is the only hair she will ever get. They ended up yelling at each other. Mike and I went home feeling awful.
But I turned on my laptop and read your comments again before I went to bed. It was a HUGE comfort to me.
We are going to keep our daughter’s hair natural for the foreseeable future. When she is more mature, she can do what she wants.
Thanks so much for taking the time to write in. It made a big difference and I am grateful.
Asha
Oh, Asha, I’m sorry to hear that. I think it’s hardest when that stuff comes from the people–family, friends–that we hope will be places of refuge, not joining in with the larger world’s negative messages. I’m so glad that your husband took a strong stand. Your daughters have two parents fiercely protecting their right to be beautiful exactly as they are–that’s powerful stuff.
I do hope for your sake that the family tensions ease. I’ve been following your blog a bit and I know that it’s been a difficult time in general. You should feel free to come back here anytime.
I’m sorry too, Asha. My mother is West Indian as well, like your MIL. Like many people of color, she grew up in a time when notions of “good hair” and “bad hair” were enforced…it was then passed on to future generations. I guess you can say it might be internalized racism. My family views me as having “bad” hair that needs a relaxer, but now I’m trying to go natural.
I understand your husband’s annoyance with his mom’s views, but this is a mentality that is deeply ingrained in a lot of people. I bet Bear would look even cuter with twists! She sounds gorgeous as it is. But I’m against weaves and relaxers for little girls. Not only because their natural beauty should be embraced, but also because of the toxic chemicals.
Great post. Good for you for saying no to relaxers! One warning regarding the “weaves and braids class.” It will be great for your daughters to learns how to braid their hair ( it will take some practice but they will get the hang of it) Please, say no to weaves. Some of the Nigerian braiding techniques can be very harsh on the hair and scalp so make sure your daughters make it applicable to their hair texture and scalp as you say they are already tendered heard. Another tip: wide tooth combs. You may already do this but keep in mind that some hair textures “tangle” naturally. I am black with fine, thick hair and I detangle my hair with wide tooth comb for about 15 minutes in 6-8 sections literally by the time I put hair in a ponytail it is usually about 30% tangled up again its just how my curls lay. Don’t be afraid to use different combs for your children, I discover wide tooth rake combs as a young adult (God sent)! I finally realized that I don’t need to be able to run a small tooth comb through my hair for it to be detangled, a wide tooth comb was perfect.
Your children are blessed to have parents who want them to accept and LOVE themselves as they are…perfect!