Recently in South Africa something amazing has happened. Black girls at a school in Pretoria, Pretoria High School for Girls decided it was high time to stand up against institutionalised racism. The girls lead a protest in which they spoke out against the policing of black hair. Owing to the admirable courage of the girls, black girls within other schools of South Africa facing similar issues of institutionalised racism have been lead to join the movement and advocate for the freedom of black girls in institutions of learning. This post is dedicated to the girls who started the movement, the students who joined those of Pretoria Girl’s High in protest, in addition to all black womxn who identify with and support the struggle.
So today, as I sit here at the airport awaiting my flight, I’ve been called to reflect on the events of the past week and how exactly I relate to this particular identity struggle. Since the protest was sparked, I have been reflecting on the importance of black hair and the role which it plays in the construction of black womxn’s identities. I thought about sharing the conversations I have had with my own hair and decided that I would share also how these conversations have structured my identity. I also decided to get a second voice on the matter in order to share a broader engagement with subject. So I spoke to an amazing friend of mine, A-Re-Fa Seleho, and asked her a few questions regarding her relationship with her hair as well as her post as a part time black hair dresser.
The following is an excerpt of my conversation with A-Re-Fa:
Me: Tell me about your view of the treatment of black hair by staff at Pretoria High School for Girls.
A-Re-Fa: For a long time black womxn have had to explain themselves with respect to their hair, their bodies and themselves in general. We’ve been told that our natural hair is untamed, untidy and exotic therefore it cannot be worn in workplaces and institutions of learning. This kind of policing is oppressive and denigrating as it forces black womxn to change their natural hair to fit Eurocentric spaces by use of hazardous [hair straightening] chemicals. At the heart of this debacle is institutionalised racism and discrimination that forces black girls to assimilate by changing the texture of their hair so that it is ‘neat’ and ‘acceptable’. We’ve accepted the affirmation of white standards of beauty for too long and I think this new resistance challenges and disrupts white exclusionary spaces through vocalising that black hair needs no policing.
Me: Describe your relationship with your hair and your identity.
A-Re-Fa: I take so much pride in how I wear my hair. I used to feel really insecure about my natural hair as I thought it didn’t suit me (ridiculous right) until I had to cut it from all the damage I put it through from weave hair glues to constant heat and relaxer chemicals. This was until I cut it and learned that healthy hair is as mandatory as a healthy body and mindset. Although I do still relax my hair I care for my hair so much by making my own sulphate free shampoos, relaxing my hair myself (I don’t trust hair salons) and using other natural hair remedies and concoctions which I make myself…As much as I feel that my hair is not the main standard of beauty and that it is merely an enhancement, I feel that it is my crown. [Prioritising] healthy hair in my life is the one thing that explains [my] connection to my hair – health and beauty.
Me: Do you consider black womxn’s hair to be a political statement?
A-Re-Fa: Yes and no. I feel that for many women, the manner in which they wear their hair says very little about them because they may merely view hair as a beauty enhancement and not a political statement. For other [womxn] hair is deeply tied to their identity. I find it ridiculous that there is so much condemnation for womxn who wear weaves or [who] wear their hair straight. People assume that because they wear their hair in that way they are expressing self-hate and [a] lack of Afrocentrism. I think it’s time for black men and white people to stop policing black hair and [that] we wear our crowns straight or kinky, braided or loose.
After having conversed with A-Re-Fa, I was given the opportunity to reflect on a view of hair which is external to my perspective on black hair. Had I been asked the above questions, my answers would reflect a strong relationship between my black hair and my black identity. So before I go on to speak briefly on the questions raised above, I’m taking this moment to reflect, in writing, on the conversations which I have had with my hair throughout my lifetime.
I remember when I was young I had a kinky afro similar to, but smaller than, the afro which I now wear. The next memory which I have of my hair is that of my head being held my my granny in the brown bathroom basin at home as she relaxed my hair with the Dark & Lovely relaxer from the purple box. The purple box featured a chocolate brown girl with silky luscious hair which I guess served as the inspiration for the chemical process which my hair follicles were enduring. At that point, my black hair was not a significant feature and hence I could not have fathomed that I would sometime be conversing with it.
Fast forward about 12 years – I’m at my second high school with short relaxed hair. I had noticed that black girls around me were progressively cutting their hair and beginning to rock their then mini afros and I began to ask myself a few pertinent questions. When I considered cutting my hair, I was resolved that I could never walk around with short hair – especially not with a head of short kinky hair. These thoughts reflected to me a form of self-rejection which I found to be quite unsettling. I eventually began to interrogate external structures which could possibly have lead me to hold a view of my black hair which was explicit in its rejection of Africanism. This was quite a turning point in my life – both for my black hair and my black identity – for which I will forever be indebted to those black girls who indirectly spurred me to discover and appreciate my God-given African crown.
For me the act of cutting my hair and learning to find comfort in confronting myself with my short kinky hair was one which liberated me in a paramount manner. I learned about the use of Eurocentrism as a universal beauty standard, and the effect of this on the psyche of the black womxn. So in response to my question about whether not a black womxn’s hair is a political statement, my black hair is an affirmative claim on my black identity and hence an explicit political statement. When I wear my hair, unprocessed in its natural upward-oriented, kinky style, I am telling myself to take pride in my blackness and simultaneously I am telling everyone around me that I assert my position as a black womxn in post-Apartheid South Africa and that I will not be cornered by Eurocentric hegemonies into abandoning my identity. That is my relationship with my hair – I have learned to love my hair and through that I have learned to love my black self.
A further reflection on what I’ve just written with regard to my hair as path to black pride: I consider it to be problematic that being born post-Apartheid I still have had to learn how to embrace my natural black hair. If this South Africa is as much of a ‘Rainbow Nation’ as it claims to be, conversations such as these would have already ceased to exist. Black womxn would be born with a deep-rooted pride in their black hair and blackness. Having to wake up to the realisation that as a black womxn you have been socially indoctrinated to oppress your black self if a struggle enough in itself – we don’t need white supremacists policing how we wear our hair. This is what the girls in Pretoria cried out against, this is what I inadvertently protest against with my fierce African crown.
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A-Re-Fa is a free-spirited beauty and intellectual who began experimenting with hair a few years ago. She is now in the process of ideating around and building an app-based black hair business called Botle (meaning beauty) with a trusted and loved mutual friend. It’s “a hair rendering business [they’re] looking to start which will focus on black hair”. They’ll be doing anything black hair ranging from the installation of weaves and braids to the supplying of hair used for these processes. “Botle, for black women by black women.”
Shout out to my girl for sharing her voice with me and melaninandcocoa’s readers.
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