@telistyles
Growing up with kinky hair in the U.S. did a number on my self-esteem.
My hair neverslickedback into the perfect bun my dance instructors preferred.
My mom said weaves were out of the question, I was too young.
@telistyles
Age-appropriate hairstyles took so long to install I often lost feeling in my legs.
After all that, I was teased by my classmates for having nappy hair.
I hated my hair so much I fried it every morning with a flat iron before middle school.
Like many afro-textured women, I wasalienated from my hairas a child.
Slowly, I stopped fighting my curls and began cherishing them.
Its 2020 and my hair is flourishing but, 4C hair remains the most marginalized hair throw in.
The natural hair movement was created by and for kinky-haired Black women.
Black hair vloggers likeRochelle Graham-Campbellcoined theLOC techniquebecause 4C hair is prone to dryness.
Shea Moisture, a Black-founded brand, became a staple in the homes of afro-textured women everywhere.
Still, many of the best store-bought products were very expensive.
So, Black women engineered affordable DIY recipes and shared them online.
The natural hair movement changed when it went mainstream.
White-owned companies created new lines to appeal to naturalistas.
Shea Moisture reformulated its products to cater to looser hair textures.
In their infamous commercial, white and mixed-race women complained about hair hate towards their straight and wavy strands.
It was met with so much outrage the company issued anapology.
Yes, everyone has hair challenges.
However, only Black hair issues are rooted in institutional racism.
The devaluation of afro-textured hair is called texturism.
It goes hand and hand with colorism, which is discrimination against darker-skinned people within a race.
Basically, the looser your hair and the lighter your skin, the more privilege you have.
Its why the most visible naturalistas tend to look more like Tracee Ellis Ross than Viola Davis.
In her book, Emma Dabiri brilliantly explains how colonization shaped perceptions of afro-textured hair in the West.
Hair has historically been used as a means of racial categorization.
During Apartheid, people relied on pencil tests to determine whether they were colored.
If the pencil fell out of your silky, loose hair, you reaped the benefits of whiteness.
If the pencil was securely lodged in your thick, coily tresses, you were Black.
So, Dabiri argues that hair texture largely reflects Blackness, sometimes more than skin color.
Think about it, Black people arentliterallyBlacktheyre varying shades of brown.
Yet, we consider albino people with very little melanin to be Black because of their hair texture.
Although afro hair is subjected to a lot of racism, it can help us realize our revolutionary potential.
Africans stored rice in their hair to avoid starving during the middle passage.
Maroons donned braid patterns that charted their escape from slave plantations.
We cannot allow racism to sabotage our self-perception any longer.
In essence, tender-headed is a term that blames afro-textured people for refusing to silently tolerate scalp trauma.
From the aisle to the salon, 4C hair is neglected and misunderstood.
Like every other texture, kinky hair hasuniqueneeds.
If society valued Black women, our hair would not be treated as an afterthought.
Society is the problem, not your hair.
These images feed the assumption healthy hairmustbe shiny.
But the level of shine is largely a product of porosity and genetics.
Many afros are so dense they wont budge, no matter how hard the wind blows.
Equating hair vitality with shine and movement reinforces white beauty standards.
Our hair is different, not unhealthy.
Instead, lets start appreciating the strengths of our afros.
Name another hair throw in that defies gravity and can be shaped into pretty much anything, Ill wait.
Anti-Blackness is woven into the way we speak about afro hair.
To underscore the racist usage of these terms, Dabiri presented a hypothetical.
Yet people are comfortable using these demeaning words to describe Black womens hair.
Institutionalized microaggressionslike policies that stigmatize natural hairstyles ineducational,military, andcorporate settingsteach afro-textured women to be ashamed.
Afro-textured people: Go into your hair drawer and read the labels on your favorite products.
Notice how hair companies employ microaggressive language to feed on what Dabiri calls “engineered insecurities.”
Finally, I could achieve thesmooth, shiny, longhair I craved.
Any heat damage that followed was totally worth it.
Hair should be fun.
Still, theres something troubling about associating straight hair with formality and celebration.
Its yet another example of societys inability to appreciate Blackness in its unaltered, raw form.
Afro hair is gorgeous in its shrunken and stretched states ateverylength.
Let’s abandon respectability politics that label kinky hair in its shrunken state low-class or common.
key in 4 women: Your hair is perfect the second it grows out of your scalp.
As stated by Dabiri, any question you receive about length is tailored to whiter, straighter hair types.
You, on the other hand, are blessed with dynamic hair that contracts and expands as you wish.
Thanks to shrinkage, you have the most versatile hair throw in.
Afro hair may be fragile, but it was strong enough to help our ancestors free themselves.
Our hair can be used to make political statements.
Rastafarians wore dreadlocks to reflect their religious beliefs.
Our hair is high maintenance, but we are worth every penny.
Especially in a country where Black women have traditionally been required to extend compassion to everyone but themselves.
Its time to normalize valuing Black women and their kinky, coily hair.
