I grew up in a home where black history permeated the air. From art on our walls to curated books on our shelves to my mother’s proud afro, reminders of black beauty were present. My first Barbie didn’t arrive until I was older and my parents mindfully monitored our mostly PBS television consumption. Yet as far back as I can remember and well before I entered a predominantly white public school system, I still found myself influenced by Eurocentric features as the basis for beauty. By the age of nine I rallied hard to get my hair permed much to my parent’s disapproval. Even with all the black love around me, I desperately wanted long, straight hair. How could this be?

As I step back and look at how history informs the present, I can’t help but to reflect on the Tignon Laws of the 1700s, which forced black women to cover their hair with fabric. Their hairstyles were deemed too distracting and elaborate. The laws were an attempt to stop white men from pursuing women of color while also separating the women into a lower social class, whether they were free or enslaved. Just this one historical account of the policing of black hair let alone black bodies has called forth great empathy for my own journey towards self-acceptance along with that of my ancestors. As I reflect, I can’t help but to wonder: could the negative relationship with my hair that I experienced at such a young age be in my DNA?

As research on epigenetics continues to expand, it has been confirmed that historical trauma passed down through generations affects the expression or suppression of genes. Any outside stimulus that can be detected by the body has the potential to cause epigenetic modifications. Shame can be inherited. So it’s no wonder that even with very little outside influence as a young child I still had a desperate yearning to change the way I looked. It was if my body sent signals alerting me that wearing my hair in it’s natural state could cause me harm.

From the workplace to the classroom black adults and children to this day are denied jobs, school admittance and even athletic pursuits due to their hair. The discrimination of black hair has been so disturbing that The CROWN Act of 2019 was passed first in California followed by New York, New Jersey and recently Colorado. It’s a step in the right direction in protecting natural hair in the workplace. And while pop culture continues to appropriate black hairstyles while discrediting it’s African origins such as when Kim Kardashian referred to her cornrows as “Bo Derek braids,” the black hair movement is still alive and thriving. Black women are rising in power while rocking their natural roots such U.S. Congresswoman Ayanna Pressley who wore Senegalese twists while running for office to Academy Award winning actress Lupita Nyong’o to Miss Universe, Zozibini Tunzi who said “I came into this competition with my natural hair as a symbol of my firm belief in being yourself.” Just as the women oppressed by the Tignon laws still found a way to express their beauty and artistry by adorning their headwraps with ribbons, jewels and feathers, black culture always finds a way to defy the odds and influence the world. I can also proudly say that determination has also been inherited; to learning to love my hair, our hair despite the constant attacks. As you will read in the short essays below, we all have a story about our hair and how it is not only political but also one of the deepest acts of self love.

Regina
@wolfmedicinemagic

I’m an Ayurvedic Wellness Counselor, 500hr certified yoga teacher, fitness instructor and Breathwork healer. I grew up in a majority white community with very few black people and even fewer black females. Every racist comment that could be said to me has been said but the Universe blessed me with an aries moon so I always come out on top. When I think of my hair I think of it as a journey towards looking as androgynous as possible. By high school I was doing as little maintenance on my hair as possible; I basically wore a bun or ponytail for four years. In college I had locs that grew from 2000-2010. Fed up with being seen as a straight woman I cut it all off and haven’t looked back. I get hit on by cis men a lot less and most people assume I’m queer or gay or something ambiguous and I prefer it that way. I feel like I have an entire mood going on. If my hair could share wisdom with the world it would say, “Worry less about what others think.”

Mominatu Boog
@mominatu

I’m a Senegalese/Liberian digital brand strangest, vipassana yogi, writer and hatha yoga practitioner. I went from an anxiety and grief stricken child to a world traveling woman. After sitting in two vipassana meditations last year I felt silly holding so much attachment. I wanted to get rid of everything from my hair to my clothes. I wanted to be seen as Mominatu the being not Mominatu the girl with the big Afro. So I chopped it! I’ve shaved my head now three times in my life. I’m currently in a bit of a transitional period. I’ve been finding it hard to feel beautiful in the “in between phase” but I’m looking forward to my hair growing back in all of its glory while appreciating it for where it is now. My biggest accomplishment thus far has been breaking out of my own cocoon that was self doubt, worry, and fear. I now, spread my wings using my voice to empower young black women to escape their cocoons as well. If my hair could share wisdom with the world it would say, “my value doesn’t decrease based on your inability to accept my freedom.”