Hair is not an easy thing for a woman to manage, day to day. And tangles aren’t our only trouble. In recent times, hairstyles have increasingly become a politicised, racialised issue that women are expected to have a stance on.
Some argue that when white women braid or wear their hair in cornrows this is “cultural appropriation”, while black women are asked to show race allegiance by keeping our hair natural.
Recently, the US actor Amandla Stenberg accused some white female celebrities of cultural appropriation for wearing hairstyles usually associated with black women; there was heated debate over Kylie Jenner’s cornrows; and this week the BBC is running a debate series on the “political issue” of African women’s hairstyles.
I do understand the symbolism of hair, especially to black women who, like black men, have had to endure taunts and insults about their natural physical appearance in the past. However, in the words of India.Arie: “I am not my hair.” And no woman of any colour should feel the need to defend her choice of hairstyle.
While I appreciate the arguments in favour of black women taking pride in their natural hair, I can’t help feeling that the politics of hair is fast becoming another issue that exacerbates the racial divide. It has also become a case of some women wanting to dictate to other women how they should wear their hair. If they don’t comply, it means they are “trying to be white” or “cultural appropriators”, as the case may be.
In an era in which mixing, matching and borrowing are fundamental elements of fashion worldwide, an era in which we are trying to emphasise our common humanity, do we really have to insist on particular hairstyles being the exclusive ownership of a certain race? I had hoped such days were long gone.
I choose to wear my hair natural not because I suddenly discovered how evil hair relaxers are, but because of my hair texture. I also choose to wear weaves, style my kinky locks into an afro when I’m feeling hip, or to go braided just to take a break from the daily bother of managing my largely uncooperative hair. I choose to celebrate the freedom of swinging between hairstyles, and if women out there of any race choose to adapt my styles, I have no qualms about that. If white women want to wear their hair “the black way” I see it as a cultural export, not appropriation.
It’s akin to wearing blusher as part of my make-up routine – I love the subtle brightness of colour on my cheeks, illusory as that may be, but this should not be interpreted as a desire to be something else. Theoretically though, as a black woman I could also be accused of appropriation because visible blushing isn’t meant to be apparent on dark skin like mine. This would mean me having to reconsider my whole make-up routine. The horror!
I’d also have to ditch the crochet braids I sometimes love to wear above my cornrows because my natural hair texture is quite coarse and nowhere near the pretty curls of the synthetic braid extensions I use on occasions. But I refuse to be apologetic or feel disloyal to my race for my beauty routines and extensions.
We women often complain of being judged by men on our appearance rather than our achievements. To instigate heated discussions about which women are allowed to wear certain hairstyles seems to me to be playing right into the chauvinist narrative of a woman being defined by how she looks and what she wears.
It is a tricky affair to start marking out cultural territories in the realm of fashion because this raises unending questions. What if white women raised an objection to black women wearing wigs or extensions with silky textures, pointing out the similarities to their own hair? Would such battles leave anyone with a sense of fulfilment?
Politicising the issue of hair is wrong. Women have fought for the freedom to make their own choices for centuries. Why do some women now want to take over the role of men in dictating to us how we should or shouldn’t look? It is important a woman’s conception of beauty isn’t dictated by society, black or white, female or male. All that will do is to undermine the self-confidence of some women and build walls between us.
Race issues can have a quicksand effect, but experiences are powerful in shaping individual perspectives. If, for instance, Rachel Dolezal wants to wear her hair “black” or “dress black”, is she really hurting anybody by doing that? I honestly can’t see how.
It is good there is more notice of what black women can achieve with their natural hairstyles. What doesn’t make sense is the constant bickering over what qualifies as “black” hair. So whether you decide to wear cornrows as a white woman or do the big chop and transition to natural hair as a black woman, it’s up to you and not the hair police. As for me, my hair roots – however they’re styled – do not in any way make me disloyal to my black roots.
