Before the arrival of the coloniser African hair was the pride and joy of the land. Hair styles indicated among other things age, marital status, wealth and even if one was in a state of mourning.
In the then matriarchy societies grandmas taught their daughters and granddaughters the skills of hair dressing, this was the time that deep and meaningful connections were created between women.
The arrival of the kidnapped Africans during chattel slavery sparked the fascination of black hair from Europeans. This fascination led to human zoos across Europe and in New York in which indigenous people where exhibited in faux villages. When slaves head were shaved more than just hair was lost; with every snip history, culture and identity discarded.
Black people across the world are penalised and reduced to the hair on their heads, reductive and ridiculous at their best. The history behind black hair is one of power and resilience, celebrated by simply wearing it.
In 1700s Louisiana black women popularised elaborate beautifully coloured headdresses as a reaction to the Tignon law; a law put in place “to return the free women of colour, visibly and symbolically, to the subordinate and inferior status associated with slavery,” . The beautifully adorned headwraps where a form of resilience.
During the 1960s young female dancers and jazz artists began to wear afros as a symbol of racial pride, a show of solidarity for the civil rights movement and at the peak of the hairstyles it was worn by both men and women and was the embodiment of black beauty, a defiant stand against racial injustice. As its popularity grew its association to the black political movement lessened.
“They shall not make baldness on their head, neither shall they shave off the corner of their beard, nor make any cuttings in their flesh.” Leviticus 21:5. Rastafarians do not shave their, overtime their hair natural forms locs, a source of spiritual strength. Bob Marley popularised this hairstyle in mainstream society, musical legends such as Lil Wayne and T- Pain - at his peak - have continued to sport this look.
These styles of have carried on today as black people continue to reimagine and create culture and history with our hair. no matter how you choose to wear your remember the wise words of India Arie.
Hey (hey)
I am not my hair
I am not this skin
I am not your expectations, no (hey)
I am not my hair
I am not this skin
I am the soul that lives within
And wear your crown with proud.
When I think of my hair I think of a journey to self discovery, I had my first relaxer as a child as most of us did. I remember the salons each dependent on proximity and where some in dimly light hospital basements, others in salons with mean ladies with longs nails who would scrap the relaxer from tender scalps leaving blisters, each visit supposedly to make it easier for our parents and the school run. As I got older the relaxers turned into braids which meant hours sat in one spot in-between the legs of some aunty who hits you with her comb each time your head is ever slightly out of position.
When we moved to England I remember wanting a weave, something to make me blend in with the girls in school, then came year 9. We had travelled to Peckham and I picked a style I saw in a magazine, it had a braid band across it to mimic pushed back slik hair. The reality of this was I had no idea how to look after this hair, before I knew it the hair resembled straw; lifeless and dry, this isn't how it was meant to be I assumed it would be as easy as pie but I was determined to learn. This was the beginning of the weave life. Throughout college I travelled frequently to Peckham to get my hair done, it was at this time I noticed that men reacted differently to me when I had natural hair I was invisible, unseen to the world. With my hair done I was seen men approached me left right and centre, this confirmed to me a place in this world and beauty where only achievable with proximity to whiteness.
In University I couldn't afford weaves as much I would have loved and so would relax my hair twice a month with colour each time, coils did not belong in my hair it was unsightly. My hair once full of life began to thin. I made the decision to cut my hair, what I thought was going to be just a hair cut became a re learning of my natural hair, I began trying out new things with my hair and began looking at it at beautiful in its natural form.
Re learning to love something you have been taught to alter or see as inadequate is not an easy ride its full of ups and downs.
I stopped wearing weaves for a while, i made it my mission to only wear them once I had really learned to love my hair in all its forms, when it was big mighty and when it was 3/4 its size at first contact with moisture.
I stopped wearing weaves for a while, i made it my mission to only wear them once I had really learned to love my hair in all its forms, when it was big mighty and when it was 3/4 its size at first contact with moisture.
