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When I was about nine years old, I asked my mom if I could straighten my thick natural hair with a perm. I was initially told that I was too young to do so, and that we’d make an appointment at the salon when I began middle school. I eagerly awaited this moment for two more years, until I finally received the long, straightened hair that nine-year-old me had been vying for. Unbeknownst to my young mind, I was making my first attempt to conform to white mainstream society.
This idea of assimilation over authenticity is something that Black women (and men) around the world have had to contend with as we face continued discrimination against our hair—one of many tactics that has long been used to dehumanize Black people. “In this culture, our hair isn’t appreciated or loved, and we have been taught to think that our hair was problematic,” says Lori L. Tharps, hair historian and coauthor of Hair Story: Untangling the Roots of Black Hair in America.
At age 23, after 12 years of perming, I began my natural hair journey. Yet I found myself struggling to undo the social conditioning that had permeated my identity. Before I locked my hair (the process of “permanently” twisting hair into locs—commonly referred to as dreadlocks—that are typically only undone by cutting/shaving), I contemplated going forward with the process for six months. I was mentally preparing to fight off contemptuous stigmas that many have associated with the style, whether subconscious or not. I didn’t believe that I had the privilege to simply weigh on my decision for reasons like, “Will it look good on me?” or “Can I commit to its permanency?” Instead, my most pressing question was, “Will society treat me differently?”
Locs is a natural hairstyle that has historically been worn across several civilizations and cultures. According to Tharps, “the modern understanding of dreadlocks is that the British, who were fighting Kenyan warriors (during colonialism in the late 19th century), came across the warriors’ locs and found them ‘dreadful,’ thus coining the term ‘dreadlocks.’” Personally, I refer to my hairstyle as locs, having dropped “dread” altogether given its negative connotation. Although many may not know of the term’s dark history, the hairstyle remains widely contentious in America two centuries later.
After the Black Power movement in the ’60s and ’70s, when the Afro became a political statement, hair discrimination became codified through “grooming policies” enforced in schools, workplaces, and the military—the United States Army had banned dreadlocks for female service members until 2017 when the policy was overturned. In 2016, three U.S. District Court of Appeals judges ruled against Chastity Jones, a Black woman in Alabama who filed an Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (EEOC) racial lawsuit against the company that rescinded her job offer because she refused to cut off her locs. In 2018, a six-year-old boy was denied entry to his school in Florida for wearing locs. In 2019, a Black high school wrestler was subjected to public humiliation when his coach chopped off his locs to avoid forfeiting a match. The stories go on. In 2020, in part thanks to the CROWN (Creating a Respectful and Open World for Natural Hair) Act, which prohibits discrimination against natural hair in schools and workplaces, and which seven states have signed into law, this form of racism is finally being addressed. But 43 states across the nation can still legally reject a child from admittance into school or rescind a job offer because of a person’s hairstyle. “People are still scared of locs and see them as some type of threat,” Tharps says. “The only reason that this style would be considered illegal is because of a continuous association with [drug-related] activities or countercultural movements. It’s because of the historical legacy of being able to discriminate against Black people for any number of reasons that it is deemed okay to create a policy that particularly impacts the Black community more than anyone else.”
But what may have once felt like an uphill battle is slowly turning in favor of the Black community as the natural hair movement undergoes a 21st-century renaissance. I recently had a conversation with my mom—who has permed her hair straight since she lived in Ghana, long before I was born—about her considering going natural, which was an incredibly pivotal moment. Millennials and Gen Z’ers are regaining control of the narrative about our hair. But as triumphant as this global movement is, it’s unfortunate that embracing our natural hair is still considered an act of self-empowerment as opposed to a simple matter of preference. As we have to recondition ourselves and society, it will remain a movement until it's no longer necessary.
“In order for us to be able to progress, we need to unlearn first and then reeducate ourselves with the truth. My belief is that education leads to empathy, which will lead to action. Part of the education process is un-educating ourselves. We have to recognize that we have all been led to believe that there is something inferior and uncivilized about Black people,” Tharps says. “I think now we’re seeing a lot more people embrace the hair that they have. We’re seeing more mainstream displays of natural hair, like on television, even if it’s just in commercials. I think we’re seeing more non-Black people paying more attention to the meaning of our hairstyles, which is important.” The natural hair movement is a vital part of dismantling the existing status quo, along with its oppressive notions.
With increased visibility through fashion and film—including the Academy Award–winning animated film, Hair Love—and changing laws that apply to the workplace and schools, the natural hair movement is fighting to make the world more just for future generations. As we begin this new decade, I hope that nine-year-old Black girls around the world are no longer internalizing the systematic oppression against their natural hair. I hope that they’re growing more comfortable in their own skin, and embracing the reflections staring back at them in the mirror.