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Gabby Douglas'

Thu, 08 Nov 2012 04:43:06 +0100

Politicizing black hair

Does the media's fascination with Gabby Douglas' hair mean we've finally accepted the way black women look?

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Topics: 2012 Summer Olympics, African American, Feministing, Gabby Douglas, gymnastics, Hair, Sports, USA Gymnastics, Politics News

Writer Nikki Giovanni.

This article originally appeared on Feministing.

Full Disclosure: I’ve been natural for nearly 12 years. Many years ago, when I was working on a big real estate project as an entry level project manager, a fellow black woman admonished me for wearing a colorful headscarf. At the time, I wore my hair in double strand twists that I would do myself, a tedious,painstaking project that would warrant me wearing a headscarf for a day or two because until I completed it. She told me that she ‘didin’t want people to get the wrong idea about the project.’ Her hair, by contrast, was chemically straightened, permed in the natural parlance of black hair styles. She occassionaly wore hair pieces as well.

Context here is king: we were black women in a predominantly white male environment represented a contrasting view of black female identity. And hair, is a trait of that identity. I naively assumed that at the dawn of the 21st century, my hair was not relevant fact in convincing loan officers to invest in a real estate transaction.

Earlier this summer, Melissa Harris Perry aired a segment exploring the current cultural conversation around black women and hair.

And just this week, O Magazine released the cover of its forthcoming September issue with Oprah donning a natural mane.

After 12 years of being natural, I’m kinda stoked about all this mainstream excitement (thank you CurlyNikki.com and Naturallycurly.com). But haters still lurk in the ether. 16 year old Gabby Douglas is a member of the 2012 US Olympic Gold Medal Gymnastics Team. Why are people tweeting about her hair?

Monisha of Sporty Afros echoes what I’m really thinking here:

2) Many of us, Black women, have acquired the horrible habit of criticizing each other from head to toe with no regards of its repercussions. It’s almost like a sport to see how many laughs or likes one’s criticisms can get on Facebook or retweets on Twitter. Once again criticism has trumped compliments. And as a Black woman, this saddens me.

3) Putting more focus on Gabby’s hair and not her athleticism proves many of us are still missing the point on where true beauty, strength, and health lies. Some of us are sitting up right now with our hair done but suffering from high blood pressure, borderline diabetes, obesity, and/or a lack of energy. Oh, but the hair is on point. As mentioned earlier, I don’t know Gabby Douglas personally and I would never try to speak on her behalf. However, I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that she considers her health and fitness level to be a little more important than her hair staying in place.

What’s particular to me in this narrative about blackness and beauty is the rather uncomfortable admission that we are overly concerned by how the world (white people) sees us and our own internalized narrative of the meaning of kinky, curly, (nappy) hair. Our hair comes in all textures and types. The resources and community support that are available to us today were absent in my earliest journey of ‘transitioning‘. Yet, we’re still policing each other on how to be and be seen. Solange Knowles has also had her share in engaging the hair policing this summer, took to twitter to hush her critics for calling her hair ‘unkempt’ and ‘dry as heck’. Key word: ‘unkempt’. The socialization around black women and our naturally curly hair centers around a perception that I have assume stems from our tortured racial history, that our hair, wild, tightly curled, textured hair means something that is ‘bad’, ‘unruly’, ‘uncivlized’ and ‘rebellious’. The legacy of language in this context sadly echoes more race talk but within our own community. ‘Unkempt’ is this context is another way to say ‘uncivilized’. I’d wager that the history of racist and negative imagery of blacks in America in caricature, minstrel, to black face has a lot about how we worry about high profile successful blacks represent us to the mainstream. Except, now, we’re on the fast track becoming the mainstream. There’s a remarkable amount of work we have to do to transition our language from negative associations of black hair (beauty and identity) in the face of a flyaway strand from a dismount off a perfect balance beam routine.

I personally wear my hair however I want to wear it. Over the years, it has become less and less political for me. It’s freeing in a choice. It has also been a learned practice to avoid internalizing the judgement of some black women about the appropriate presentation of my hair as well as managing the curiosity of non black folk about the nature of my hair. I wear my hair in braids, twists, afros, blowouts, and pressed (by flatiron) for years. It’s my head and my hair. I whip it back and forth.

The Black Hair Salon Isn’t What or Where it Used to Be

Fri, 30 Sep 2011 07:28:08 +0100

The Black Hair Salon Isn’t What or Where it Used to Be

*(Via Washington Post) You would certainly expect black and white women to shop at the same stores, luxuriate in the same spas, even frequent the same makeup counters. And more than five decades after Rosa Parks held on to her bus seat, they do.

But there was one beauty barrier that was never breached: hair salons.

All things being equal, women’s hair was not.

Because no one, according to the conventional wisdom, could style a black woman’s hair except another African American, salons were the only institutions more segregated than church on Sunday mornings. It’s a well-known scene: Black women gather at their beauty parlors for everything from straightening to socializing.

But this last bastion of separation may be going the way of the hot comb. Pushed by a recession-driven shakeout and shifting trends in hair care, the walls are starting to come down.
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Walk into Saks Fifth Avenue’s salon in Bala Cynwyd, Pa. – historically home to a mostly white, upper-class clientele – and you will see black and white clients getting their hair done by white and black stylists.

There’s also an increasing number of black stylists at typically white Center City Philadelphia salons, including Bubbles and Adolf Biecker. And black-owned beauty salons are hiring a more diverse group of stylists.

Of the six stylists at the year-old Ends Hair Design and Day Spa in Northern Liberties, Pa., there are three African Americans, one Asian, one white stylist and one Latina.

Brandy Davila, who is an African American and an owner of the multicultural Salon Tenshi in North Philadelphia, opens her doors to all clients and stylists.

“And I’m finding it’s a learning experience for everyone,” Davila said. “White clients get to see what goes on with African American hair, and my black clients see that white people’s hair isn’t as easy to deal with as we think.”

Read the FULL story at The Washington Post.

I Love My Relaxer! Why the 'Going Natural' Craze Just Isn't for Me By Quiana Stokes on Dec 14th ...

Wed, 15 Dec 2010 23:43:36 +0100

The debate over the "proper" way for black women to wear their hair is one that I have gotten into more times than I can count. From going to a college where most of the black female population chopped off their hair so as not to feel "oppressed" by "the man" to Chris Rock's widely acclaimed, seemingly pro-natural documentary, I always feel like I am the minority vote in this debate. My natural hair is thick. In addition to being thick it has a very tight, wavy texture that I can only call kinky. Pulling a comb through it sans conditioner was quite the feat. My mother had no interest in struggling with this every day of my youth. She was the decision maker in my household and chose to make a change to my hair at a fairly young age. Now that I am 26, I do not regret it one bit. I love my relaxer. Love it. Why have I decided to stick with a chemical treatment that in recent years has been denounced by my community? Simple: It makes my life easier.

At a very young age, around 6 or 7, I remember my mother taking me to the hair salon to get my first relaxer. Until then, she and my aunt had spent many mornings braiding, beading or firing up the stove top for the hot comb just to do my hair for school. I hated it even then. My mother had relaxed hair at the time, so the idea of sitting in the grown-up chair and getting straight hair was exciting for me. When the hairdresser applied the "cold white mud," as I then described it, I couldn't wait to see the results. My hair came out soft, shiny and silky. It made me feel grown-up and pretty. I no longer had to deal with the heat from the comb sizzling my scalp. My mother would wrap my hair at night, unwrap it in the morning, and I'd be on my way. Even on the days when my hair needed washing, styling was faster and easier. I could do my homework while I sat under the dryer, and if I was too cranky for a roller set, she'd blow dry it, put it in a loose ponytail, and send me off. It seemed like relaxing my hair made my mother's life easier, too.

While I completely understand one's hesitance to chemically altered hair, I believe that my hair is just as healthy as any natural woman's. I would be remiss if I did not state that, as with every other chemical treatment, relaxers come with a great deal of risk. As a result of not risking the urge to dig my nails into my itchy scalp, I have had the misfortune of being burned. I will be the first to say that a relaxer burn is terrible. It hurts, it creates scalp sores and can even cause your scalp to bleed. This, however, is something that can be very easily prevented. Had I listened to my mother and my stylist I would have known that scratching my hair so close to relaxer time would be costly. Almost every woman I have discussed this with brings up the issue of hair breakage, a stance that is quite valid. However, just as with anything else in life, if hair is not taken care of, it is easily ruined. Additionally, being uneducated about what is being put in your hair can end in disaster. When I grew out of my children's relaxer and began going to the hair salon on my own, I allowed a stylist to use a brand that was too strong for my hair. It resulted in major breakage. Despite this, I had and still have no interest in getting rid of it. I cannot stress enough the fact that if you take care of your mane and use quality products, having a relaxer will not be the death of your hair. I get my roots touched up every six weeks. In the meantime, I wash and deep condition my hair at least twice a week. To this day, my hair is strong and healthy. I use products made for my hair type and work in conjunction with my stylist to make sure everything we're doing is for the benefit of my hair. I wear it just below my chin, and any damage that was done to it as a result of my early ignorance has been reversed. Genetics aside, I don't believe I am any more likely to go bald than any other woman.

In short, I love my perm. I am a young and busy woman, and anything that makes my life easier is okay with me. I would feel just as beautiful wearing my hair in its natural state, but it is just not something that fits into my lifestyle. I am in full support of women who choose to cut their hair off (as my mother has now done), grow it out into a large Afro, dye it, relax it, whatever. The important thing is that you are happy with the decision you have made for yourself.

What side of the debate do you fall on, ladies? Are you relaxed or natural?

Kari B's Style Secrets

Wed, 15 Dec 2010 23:48:21 +0100

I absolutely love fashion and these are just a couple of vintage pieces that I put together. YES, all of these can be worn together and the trick is to buy your pieces from different stores to acheive the eye popping look. Want to stand out of the crowd? Shopping online or at outlet stores will guarantee you a different look.

*Fashion in 2011 is all about big and bold accessories.