The politics of hair
Monday, March 21st, 2011 by Upenyu Makoni-MuchemwaThe first time I realised that my hair was not my own was when I was twelve. The school holidays were a week away and as such, my very conservative headmistress relaxed the school rules on hair. All my friends arrived for the last week of school with long braids or relaxed hair. Being a conformist then, I wanted straight hair too. But my father, being of the Bob Marley ‘black and proud’ generation forbade it. My pouting, pleas and final resort to the blackmail of crying did nothing to move him.
‘You are an African princess’ he said, ‘you must be proud of who and what you are.’ I wasn’t comforted.
Regardless of geographical location or history all women of African descent have at one time or another succumbed to the notion that good hair is long and straight. Quoted in a New York Times article on the good hair debate Associate professor of Black Studies at the University of California at Santa Barbara, Ingrid Banks said:
“For black women, you’re damned if you do, damned if you don’t, if you’ve got straight hair you’re pegged as selling out. If you don’t straighten your hair, you’re seen as not practicing appropriate grooming practices.”
That our hair is a political statement, and that in its natural state it is not considered desirable is probably one of the few things that we all have in common. So we struggle with extensions and weaves, hot combs and relaxers, in a never-ending battle to be seen as beautiful. The multitude of women on the streets of Harare with an imitation of Rihanna’s straight asymmetric-cut weave is proof of that.
It seems that beauty, as defined by the cosmetic companies that services the industry, has everything to do with being less black. Even here in Zimbabwe, amid indigenisation and empowerment, black women do not feel beautiful without some enhancement that takes away something of what makes them African. And through all of that not once have we stopped to ask ourselves “what is beautiful for me?”