I Shouldn't Have To Think So Much About My Hair

Guest post from Renee of Womanist Musings

So as readers know, I have had natural hair for about 10 years now.  First I wore dread locks which hung almost to my behind.  After years of wearing that I got tired and wanted a new look, so I did the big chop.  I knew without a doubt that I never ever wanted to relax my hair again.  I know that the chemicals are not good for my hair or my scalp, and I felt that straight hair was capitulating to the Eurocentric standard.  I took to youtube and learned all about twist outs and Bantu knots.  Since there are no natural hair salons where I live, let alone a Black hair dresser, I knew that I would have to care for my hair on my own.  I spent time asking all the Black women I knew where they got their products and set about trying to find something that wouldn't break the bank, that would still work for my natural hair.  Let me tell you that was a tough task.  As much as Carol's Daughter for instance, has an incredible line of products, for everyday care, they are extremely expensive.

After several horrible attempts, I finally was able to rock a twist out that worked for me.  I covered it that night, went to bed and the morning, my hair was a disaster.  From this I learned that to make this look work, I would have to retwist my hair nightly.  It seems like a small thing, but when you're hands are aching and the thought of raising your arms up does not sound at all appealing what do you do?  Okay, that means an afro on the days that I am incapable of twisting, a look btw that I am not fond of on me.

I made the decision to buy a wig to wear on the days when twisting my hair was simply not going to happen, through time constraints, or aching hands.  The thing about this whole purchase is that I had to agonize over it.  What was I saying politically by buying a wig?  Did this mean that I didn't love my natural hair enough to fight the good fight?  Was making the decision to buy a wig an internalization of Black hatred?  On and on it went in my mind.

Finally, I talked to Monica of Transgriot and her answer was, "Renee, just buy the damn wig and move on".  I made the decision and I bought a wig, which btw I love and looks great on me.  I have actually gotten several compliments on it.  Still, every time I put it on, the niggling questions still remain.  I have to come to realize that the fact that I have to question what I am doing with my hair is a reflection of the ways in which my body is policed.  Though hair should be a simple thing, it is not the case with Black women.

When I first went natural, I had to threaten to sue my former employer because they deemed my natural hair to be radical.  This applied to breads, dreadlocks and afros if you can believe it.  Hair that was not neatly combed was deemed unkempt.  They had a business to run and there was no room in that business plan for me to be who I am naturally.  I know without a doubt, that I am not the only Black woman who has been through this.

When Viola Davis took off her wigs and went to Academy Awards with her natural hair she was praised solidly by many Black women.  The fact that there was conversation after conversation about a woman wearing her natural hair in public proves how political Black women's hair choices still are.  Sheri Sheppard of The View has talked openly about her wigs and weaves.  Just recently, she commented that her partner from Dancing With the Stars kissed her weave for good luck before her performance, which is something she says, "never happens to her."  Sheri travels everywhere with her wigs.  Though she commonly shares the stage with Whoopi Goldberg, who has dredlocks, Sheri very rarely wears her natural hair.  Whoopi, has long been considered the anti-beauty of Hollywood. With the exception of the rare few like Whoopi, Solange, Wanda Sykes and Lauren Hill, most of the Black female celebrities that we see in the media either have relaxed hair [note: this includes blow outs], or are rocking weaves and wigs.  Beyonce is famous for her lacefronts.

Have all of these women really internalized such a negative view of their natural hair, or have the circumstances of their lives caused them to make specific choices about their hair?  By making these choices, does it mean that they don't love their Blackness, or that they aren't thinking of the examples they are setting for the young girls who are watching them, hoping to emulate them some day?  I don't think that's the case at all, after much thought on the issue.  I used to believe that relaxed hair was the sign of a colonized mind.  I used to believe that hair had to be neat and kept even if it was natural.  Now I know that women make hundreds of choices everyday, and that unless we are walking around in their head, we have no idea what lead to the decisions they have made.

As long as we live in a racist society, there is always going to be a cost for wearing our hair natural.  There are always going to be those believe that our failure to conform to Eurocentric beauty standards makes us radical.  The bottom line is that no matter what decision a Black women chooses to make with her hair, we have no business questioning it.  For me it really comes down to respecting women's bodily autonomy.  Sure, more women walking around with natural hair would be nice to see, but at the same time, with the costs that we know which can arise from such a decision, using natural hair as a barometer to decide how much someone has internalized negative ideas about Blackness is not only judgmental, it's wrong.

It shouldn't have to be this hard.  The agonizing and the worry should not have to be part of a decision to wear a wig, weave, blow out, relaxed hair, dred locks, bantu knots, or twist outs.  What these styles should represent are options Black women can choose at will based on what they feel looks good on them.  Whether it's twist outs today, or my wig tomorrow, it shouldn't say anything about me to the world.  I am the same person, no matter what I choose to do with my hair.  I have come to see the hair policing and debate as yet one more thing that keeps us distracted and focused on each other, rather than the society that has created ridiculous standards of appearance. In the end, I have decided to go with what looks good on me, and what makes me feel confidant and beautiful. Today it is my funky gravity defying twist out, but tomorrow it may be my wig.

Black Hair Salons: Endangered Species?

One of the things I searched for when I began my transition in 1994 was a hair salon and a stylist that not only could do my hair, but wouldn't trip over the fact I was trans.

I found that person in Sadiat Busari, and for the next seven years I faithfully showed up at her Southwest Houston shop before I moved to Louisville.

I got so comfortable with Sadiat and she got to know me and my hair.  She knew  me so well I could fall asleep in the chair and wake up with a hairdo that was guaranteed to get me endless compliments at work and as I did my Air Marshal thing in the late 90's..

The cool part about her A Cut Above shop was the conversations I was engaged in when I wasn't falling asleep in the chair.  She was Nigerian, so her patrons were an interesting blend of Americans, Nigerians and women from several other African nations.  It led to some fascinating conversations that went across the spectrum ranged from my trans issues to dating, sex and politics.

Black hair salons are safe zones for us women to discuss everything we can't or won't talk about in mixed company from our lovers, husbands and race relations.    


The Black hair salon is probably next to the Black church the most segregated institution in America.  But thanks to the one-two punch of increased competition over the last five years from Dominican hairstylists and the Great Recession, many mom and pop Black hair salons like Sadiat's are either going out of business or struggling to hang on as their customers cut back their visits because of lack of personal income.

For those who have closed up shop, large white owned salons are taking advantage of the glut of talented Black hair stylists to hire them and put them to work grabbing a share of a beauty market that was once a locked up FUBU proposition for over a century.

The popularity of lace front wigs has also taken a bite out of the income of Black hairstylists as well.

One of the first businesses that Black women used after emancipation to make money and get ahead in American society was the hair care business.   Madam CJ Walker became the first Black millionaire by going that route.  

So while there is some concern that a cultural touchstone in our community as demonstrated in the movie Beauty Shop may be on the ropes, there are small and large Black hair salons that are rising to the challenge and stepping up their games to deal with the increased competition.

But only time will tell if the Black hair salon eventually makes it off the economic endangered list or becomes extinct. 

Happy 25th Anniversary SBH!

This month marks the 25th anniversary of what has become an iconic publication for Black women in the US, Sophisticate's Black Hair.

It has also been an invaluable part of my transition as well.

Sophisticate's Black Hair or SBH as we fondly call it has had my undivided attention ever since I spotted the debut issue of it on my local Walgreen's magazine rack back home in May 1984. That debut issue had a smiling Jayne Kennedy Overton on the cover and quickly become the go to magazine when you were looking for anything Black hair related.

SBH was the brainchild of publisher James B. Spurlock. It was his dream to meld positive imagery, great journalism and a powerful 'Black Is Beautiful' message inside the pages of a magazine. While EBONY, JET and ESSENCE did the Black community's heavy lifting in that regard, there was a need for an SBH as well to sing and celebrate the praises of Black hair.

And 'sang' they did. As I flip through some of my old copies it was not only a cultural mirror of the times, it also serves as a style time capsule as well.

There have been a wide range of people that have graced the covers of SBH from Oscar winner Halle Berry to Tyra Banks to current fave Rihanna. There have been SBH interviews done with various Black women about their hair styling secrets that range from our various sistah Miss USA's to various actresses to the First Lady of the United States.

SBH also covers the wide range of hairstyles from bone straight to natural to locs, how to replicate them and take care of it at home in between the salon visits. It even offers advice and tips on the business side of it and advice from beauty experts.

When I was looking for a shorter hairstyle I perused multiple issues of it until I discovered one that fit me perfectly.

I also loved its ongoing mission of focusing on the beauty of Black women, and they even focus on Da Fellas from time to time. They will interview well known African-American men who will wax poetic sometimes on why they love sistahs or other issues.

And in every anniversary issue they name the 10 Best Styled Women of the Year as chosen in a poll of SBH readers.

I know you're curious, so here are SBH's 2009 Best Styled Women:

Rihanna, Mary J. Blige, Keyshia Cole, Beyonce, Tyra Banks, Queen Latifah, Halle Berry, Ciara (take that haters), Alicia Keys and Jennifer Hudson.

So congrats SBH for 25 wonderful years of singing the praises of the beauty of Black women and our hair, and may the next 25 years be just as spectacular.

A Transsistah's Secret- Hair

It's no accident that Madame CJ Walker, the first African-American millionaire, made her money by creating a hair care system aimed at African-American women. It's no secret that we have multiple magazines such as Sophisticate's Black Hair that are dedicated to talking about it as well.

In the run up to transition it's one of the stress inducing parts of it for Black transwomen. One of our keys to blending in with our biosisters is making sure our air is hooked up and it's the bomb. It's important for us to not only find a beautician who will be open minded about taking on a transgender client, but who has skills as well to deal with some of the challenges she'll face caring for our hair.

Our hair, be it natural, loced, braided, curly, straight or wavy is not only a Black woman's crowning glory, it is her way to express her individuality and style.

It also at times takes on political connotations as well. The pride we take in our hair dates back to slavery. Slave masters not only forbade the braided styles we often wore that connected us to our various peoples back on the Mother Continent, but the wide tooth combs and shea butter to care for our hair wasn't available.

Toss in our ongoing battle with a beauty standard skewed toward white women, and you can see over time why blonde hair on Black women didn't become an acceptable hair color until the 90's.

Whether it's wearing the Afro in the 60's and 70's as an expression of Black pride, braids and locs in the 80's and the 2k's, our relationship with our hair is the first key decision that we make as Black transwomen that expresses who we are and the type of image we wish to project to the world.

And sometimes the fight to express our individuality and pride in our heritage leads to litigation when it clashes head on with white privilege, which deems certain styles in corporate settings as 'unprofessional'.

But at the same time our hair issues also remind us Black transwomen at times what we missed not growing up female. The bonding experience steeped in our people's history of the youngest child sitting in the chair near the kitchen stove on Saturday morning having her hair greased, parted and hot combed as she and two generations of women in the family talk about various issues while she prayed she didn't get burned.

It's why hair issues for a Black transwoman are a major concern and she's ecstatically happy when she finally does get to sit in that beauty shop chair. It's another important milepost on her journey to Black womanhood.