I Am Not My Hair

 

There’s much controversy and conversation going on about “black hair” these days. As an afro-centric woman of pride who is also an avid weave wearer and hair-style-changer, I feel it’s time that I chime in some on the idea of “black hair” - what it means to go natural or not. I have simply had enough of the ridiculously simple notions that seem to create superior attitudes that plaque us. We have enough to divide us without hair being one of them.

 

Many of you know this, some may not, but my father, Howard Spencer, was what one would call today a culturally sound brother. One of his biggest accomplishment in life, was founding a private school called the Black and Proud School, which he ran for many years under another name to avoid governmental interruption. My father was known to most as Bro. Howard and deemed the strict father and crazy “black man” by neighborhood kids. He wouldn’t allow my mother to straighten our hair. So my sister and I, with little to say about it, wore our hair in braids way longer than the other girls we knew. We couldn’t wear fingernail polish or lip stick (although it was not suitable before 13 years of age for me to wear make up, but this was a problem for my sister who was four years older than me). We didn’t celebrate Christmas at all, only the African American holiday - Kwanzaa. Our lifestyles were completely different from most of the kids we knew. My mother made dashikis and other African clothing and that’s what we wore. My father didn’t spend his money on wants, only needs as he charged little to nothing to educate the children of Virden Addition and surrounding neighborhoods. So we couldn’t afford these items and even if we could, he wouldn’t spend his money making the “white man” richer when my mother was capable of providing the clothing we needed.

 

I adapted the pride that came along with being Black early.  I loved everything about being black, still do.

 

Most of my father’s friends wore afros. The women were naturally beautiful – no make up, nothing extra – just the beauty they were born with. They wore locks in their hair when locks were not especially popular. I didn’t begin to even see relaxed hair until my father moved our family to New York City where he attended Union Theological Seminar School. It was during this time, that I began to get picked on for being “southern” and for having a look that wasn’t normal (natural hair). So not only did I begin to further resent having no choice in the matter of how I’d wear my hair; but, I also began to resent my Nigerian birth name.  Funmi is not a very common name and it wasn’t until I reached this new world that I realized how “black” my name was. I became aware quickly that my family wasn’t like most black families; my father wasn’t like most fathers.   

 

Once my mother started noticing that I was not acting like the outgoing, outspoken daughter I once was, she began to beg my father to allow her to straighten our hair, just so that I could concentrate on my studies instead of hating to go to school. With much hesitation and some resistance, he allowed her to do it. He realized that through it all, my comfort level at school was much more important than how people perceived me or how I thought they perceived me. He spent extra hours at night after our homework and chores were done talking and teaching about what it meant to be Black in America; the responsibility we had as young black girls to carry our heritage proudly. He spent many hours reiterating why it is not necessary to look “white”. He went thru great lengths to teach me that adding chemicals to my hair to make me look unnatural or to fit in should not offer me peace. He told me over and over again how beautiful I was without straight hair. He explained to me that people started straightening their hair to conform; to look more unthreatening; to lessen the negative attention they got from white people, while making them more comfortable with my appearance. He assured me that I must continue to have pride in being black and being his daughter no matter what my hair looked like. Although he didn’t like the idea of mother straightening my hair, he didn’t want me to be unhappy or to suffer either. He made that point quite clear.

 

Later in life, when I began to believe what my father had instilled in me - that I was beautiful, I started experimenting with styles as most young girls do. I realized fairly quickly that I didn’t favor looking the same all the time. I wanted to change my appearance quicker than most women. I might want to rock a short do this week and something long the next. *Insert weave here*. I began wearing colored hair to match my outfit. I went from curly to straight, long to short, didn’t matter because I was in complete control all the time of what I looked like. Plus, I had learned to do my hair myself, so I saved loads of cash not having to pay someone to do my hair every week (or every two days).

 

I realized that many may be confused by my appearance and may think that I wasn’t happy with what I looked like although that to me was simply ridiculous. I thought/think I was gorgeous. My hair did not make me any less or any more gorgeous. I just wanted to control how I looked instead of cutting a style into my hair and waiting for it to grow back; Or, having a natural style that looked the same each and every day. That just wasn’t/isn’t my style. However, I take great pride in my heritage and I don’t see how what I look like can offer any indication to anyone to what my level of pride is (or anyone else’s).

Today, men and women alike grow dread locks not to make a statement against white oppression or the black struggle or unity and strength (as intended), but because that’s the in thing to do. Everyone else does it. Celebrities have influence over our style of dress and even our hair styles. That should be clear to most when you see young men wearing their pants off their butts and women cutting Mohawks into their hair. They even have names for the styles. How many people rocked the Anita Baker cut; the Fantasia hairdo? So of course India.Arie, Cassandra Wilson, Jill Scott, Erykah Badu, and others will have the same influence on society in general. If they’re doing it, it must be okay right? Well that does not make a person identifiable with their African ancestry and it doesn’t make them any stronger in their Africanism than a person who doesn’t choose to look like their favorite artists. 

 

I commend any who embrace their heritage and choose to go natural for whatever reason they own that choice. But, I don’t take kindly to the assumption that those of us who haven’t chosen to go natural are somehow unhappy with our identity and /or who we are. I am black and proud. There is nothing about me that wishes to be white or not black. I know many sisters who have straightened hair that are more active in the struggle than some who wear dread locks and have no understanding about what the meaning of wearing those dreads dictate. We are different skin tones. Does being light skinned make me less black than a darker skinned woman? 

 

Are you blacker than I am because your hair is kinky?

 

Are you more cultural because you have locks?

 

Is our struggle any different because you have decided not to straighten your hair?

 

Do you think I am not discriminated against by white racists because I have straight hair, just as you are? 

 

Black people have found ways of separation throughout history. We have a tendency to put each other down in an effort to uplift ourselves which is unnecessary. We need not pass judgment on ourselves as all we do is continue to place division among our race. There is simply not enough education and acceptance. If the idea is to teach African pride, then let’s do that without making the assumption that it’s missing altogether. If you are proud, be proud. But don’t think you are in a category of your own. Don’t be so quick to look at your sister and determine her worth or sense of pride because she has not chosen to wear her hair as you have. 

 

If one should not be judged by the color of their skin, then is it not just as safe to conclude that no one should be judged by the texture of their hair. We are the same; born of the same African blood. Having a natural hairstyle doesn’t make you “more black” than someone who doesn’t. There are certainly people who have identity issues and may not love being black, but I can guarantee that you won’t be able to make that determination by looking at their hairstyle. Black women are beautiful whether their hair is locked, braided, in an afro, finger-waves, straightened, roller wraps, weaved, twisted, etc. We are beautiful because we have a choice. We can do all that to our hair. Name another race that has that option. 

 

My childhood experiences in heritage and African culture make it hard for me to fathom anyone glancing in my direction and noting a person who isn't proud to be African.  However, I do realize that once a person grows and accepts themselves, it's a normal reaction to think they've come to a place that others have yet to explore.  Not the case with me, my family or the people I grew up with.  My father created a foundation of truth and pride in his children and regardless of my hair style, that is who I am; strong and proud.  One day I may decide to go back to a relaxer-free way of life, but I guarantee that will still not make me any more afrocentric or any more black than I was the day I was born in this skin.

 

I am a black woman equipped with strength and pride in who I am and who you are. You are beautiful and so am I, regardless of our hairstyle. No matter where you come from, as long as you’re a black man/woman, you’re an African. No matter what the hair texture, as long as you’re a black man/woman, you’re an African.

 

Be you, and let me be me because we are both African. Black Power!