When it comes to the topic of hair, many are quick to label it as a frivolous thing. Surely the way one’s hair grows naturally out of their head, or the way it is styled can have no impact on that person’s experiences in the world, right? Everyday instances of discrimination based on hairstyles and textures can often be hard to pin down, other times however they are too glaring to misinterpret as anything else.
In the early 1990 in the British Virgin Islands, writer and civil rights activist Audre Lorde asked the question, “Is your hair still political?” She had almost been denied entry to the island after a smartly dressed black immigration officer with “heavily processed hair flawlessly styled” told her that she could not enter the BVI with her hair “like that.” Lorde at the time had her hair in dreadlocks, a hairstyle that was criminalised and negatively stereotyped due to its association with Rastafarianism.
Of course, the 1990s was a whole other century ago… and surely there has been some progress when it comes to the liberation and individual freedom of racial, gender and sexual minorities. However, hair still remains a contentious issue and conversations centring on how it can impact things from our partners down to our job opportunities can see many cry in exasperation, “It’s just hair!”
Yes, it is just hair – a part of our appearance and identity – intrinsically connected to our race and cultures. While many who spout the long debunked ideology of colourblindness might also state that it is just skin, I think we can all agree that these things unfortunately matter in a world where we still make assumptions and judgements of others based on the way they look.
Many are in the habit of thinking that these things only occur in Western countries. There we understand that legally backed sanctions and discriminatory practices against black hairstyles in the workplace and education sector are just a regular Tuesday. However, they do not see or want to acknowledge how a multi-racial society like Guyana can still get hung up on something as trivial as hair.
We are not a people removed from our history. While we are separate from the white/black dynamic of countries in the West that still criminalise natural hair, the cacophony of douglas, buffianas and other mixtures here in Guyana are not removed from the implications of decades of romanticized whiteness and its effects on our psyche. A lot of our conversations centre on achieving the ideal of what is considered “good hair” rather than analyzing where those ideals came from.
The very same systems, ideas and customs that dictated our existence two, three centuries ago are still present and affecting our lives today. Being told that their hair – upright and nappy – is ugly and antagonistic has impacted generations of black descendants. The ideal of long, flowing tresses sported by light faces that continues to dominate the media has significantly impacted our idea of what is beautiful. The result is that there exists both an internal and external aversion to black hair that is not always perfectly gelled down, straight or covered.
If you are a black or multiracial woman of African descent, chances are that your childhood was frequented by regular sessions with a hot comb or chemical relaxers that your moms and aunties used to make both your and their hair more manageable and presentable. Maybe you were even one of those who did not have the decision foisted upon them but who like me, actively begged for it, given the belief that in order to be considered beautiful, hair had to be bone straight. While men are not as affected by this pressure to conform as much as women, they are certainly not immune. They are always expected to wear their hair close shaven for school, work and social gatherings in an attempt to look “neat” as black hair is thought of as “unkempt.” Failure to conform can see persons being labeled as troublemakers and have experiences with micro-aggressions, suspensions and employment terminations. Those who wear dreadlocks are particularly at risk as they are seen as criminal and frequently targeted by police.
There has been a growing revolution of sorts when it comes to the acceptance of afro-descended hair over the past few years. More and more persons are returning to their roots and reclaiming a part of their identity that they had shunned, hid and damaged in the name of achieving “good hair.” It is time that we begin celebrating our own kinks and resist the urge to only revere our hair and its cultural styles when it has been gentrified and stripped of all its significance. As long as we continue to live in a world where black persons are told that their hair is not good enough, the wearing of our hair in its natural form will always be a political act.
