Hair and Identity, part one

Locking Kenson's hair has been a learning experience for me. Well, just caring for his hair has been a learning experience for me. I have done a lot more thinking about hair than I ever have before. I am a wash and go girl. When I worked full time, I often went to work with no make up on. I just really don't like taking the time to fuss with things like that. But interestingly enough, when it came time to care for his hair, I decided maybe such a laisse faire attitude wasn't going to cut it. And what I learned has been really eye opening.

In really general terms, African American culture is hair centered. For a number of reasons, curly kinky hair has not been valued in African American culture. For years, African American hair was called wooly and nappy while those with Caucasion hair was described as cascading and flowing. And somewhere along the way, for a lot of African American people, cascading and flowing meant better. And so many started using chemicals to relax or straighten their hair. Their identity somehow became connected to their hair.

Now, let me interupt the story. I am a Caucasian women. I have kinky curly quirky hair. I missed the memo that my hair defines me. I had no idea I was supposed to be having an identity crisis because my hair wasn't straight. In fact, my hair is not "good hair." I wasn't born with curly hair. I had stick straight but very tangly hair until around fourth grade. As my hormones started to change, so did my hair. It started fuzzing around my temples and the nape of my neck. And curling. Not all of my hair. Just parts. So I spent a few years with a "hot mess" on my head. I am not kidding you. My mom had no idea what to do. (And even if she did, I wouldn't have listened to her anyway.) What would you do with hair that was frizzy and curly in spots but straight in others? Eventually, it all changed to curly. And by the time I was in high school, I thought I had it figured out. Other than being a nightmare to comb, it wasn't too bad. College wasn't too bad either. But then a few years after I graduated from college, my hair started thinning. So now I have thin, slightly limp curly hair which I sometimes love and sometimes hate.

Okay end of my own hair drama. Back to black hair...straight hair is better. Got it? So straighten it with chemicals, grease it with grease (petroleum jelly, vaseline, mineral oil), or iron your curls out. Live in fear of rain as it might ruin your hair style. Add a weave or a wig or extensions if you have to. Don't really consider just being thankful for the hair you have. That was the status quo for a quite a while, and in some ways still is. (Think about how many famous black women you know who have straight hair, rather than curly.)

There has been a movement towards treating your hair as a treasure and learing to work with it, rather than against it. That's the natural hair movement. Step away from the burning chemicals and just let your hair be. Wear braids or dreadlocks or heck, an Afro. Quit putting thick goopy stuff in that slicks and defrizzes by simply coating the hair. Seek out natural oils that fight frizz by penetrating your hair like shea butter or coconut oil. Take joy in the ethnic traits God gave you...kinky curly hair.

That's the history lesson portion. I promise this isn't just an Afrocentric history lesson. It does have a point related to Kenson and others who care for black hair. More tomorrow.