What challenges did textured hair face before the CROWN Act?

Roots

There is a profound resonance when we speak of textured hair, a whisper across centuries. Its very existence is a testament to ancient wisdom, a biological marvel crafted by ancestral landscapes. Before the CROWN Act unfurled its protective canopy, the journey of textured hair through Western societies was often fraught with challenge, a path paved by misunderstanding and deliberate devaluation. This narrative unfolds not as a simple recounting of facts, but as a deeper engagement with the living legacy held within each coil and kink, a story of enduring resilience.

For millennia, across diverse African civilizations, hair stood as a powerful symbol. It communicated social standing, marital status, tribal connections, and spiritual affiliations. Hairstyles were intricate, often requiring communal effort, reflecting a communal bond. Kushite culture, for example, prized natural hair textures, with men and women often styling their hair in curls or tightly bound rows, celebrating their intrinsic beauty and aligning with cultural values regarding identity.

What Ancient Practices Defined Textured Hair?

The earliest forms of textured hair, evolutionary biologists surmise, served a primary purpose ❉ to protect early human ancestors from intense ultraviolet radiation, providing natural insulation and cooling for the scalp. This elemental biology laid the groundwork for sophisticated practices that evolved alongside human societies. Across the continent of Africa, communal grooming rituals strengthened societal bonds. Hair became a canvas for artistry, a living archive of community history.

The very architecture of textured hair, born of ancient sun and spirit, tells a story of adaptation and inherent strength.

Consider the Yoruba people of Nigeria, whose detailed hairstyles marked community roles, or the Himba tribe in Namibia, whose dreadlocked styles, coated with red ochre paste, spoke of a deep connection to the earth and their ancestors. These were not mere aesthetic choices; they represented a lexicon of identity, an unspoken language understood by community members.

• Shea Butter ❉ Utilized by various African tribes for centuries, it deeply moisturized and shielded hair from harsh environmental elements.
• Chebe Powder ❉ A traditional blend used by the Basara women of Chad, applied with oil to promote exceptional length retention, often within protective styles.
• Aloe Vera ❉ Prized in various ancient cultures, including Latin American civilizations like the Mayans and Aztecs, for its conditioning properties and ability to soothe the scalp.

The transatlantic slave trade, however, severed this connection, violently disrupting ancestral practices and imposing an alien aesthetic. Upon arrival in the New World, the shaving of heads was a deliberate, cruel act to erase cultural identity. Hair, once a source of pride and lineage, became a site of profound oppression. The concept of “good hair” – that which approximated European straightness – emerged, setting a destructive standard against the very texture that defined Blackness.

Ritual

The challenges confronting textured hair before the CROWN Act were not merely about appearance; they represented an extension of historical attempts to erase Black identity and heritage. The pressure to conform to Eurocentric beauty standards translated into tangible obstacles in schools and workplaces. This was a battle fought not with weapons, but with hot combs, relaxers, and a quiet, persistent yearning for authenticity.

How Did Societal Norms Suppress Textured Hair Expression?

After the abolition of slavery, the dream of full citizenship for Black people was shadowed by societal expectations that demanded physical conformity. While some enslaved people had mimicked enslaver hairstyles or worn wigs, the post-slavery era saw a more widespread adoption of chemical straighteners and hot combs. These tools were often used, or required, to make hair appear “professional” or “acceptable.” This period saw a significant financial burden placed upon Black women, who felt compelled to invest in expensive treatments and wigs to align with these standards.

The natural hair movement of the 1960s and 1970s, deeply intertwined with the Civil Rights and Black Power movements, represented a powerful reclaiming of heritage. Figures like Angela Davis embraced their natural hair, challenging prevailing norms and encouraging others to do likewise. The Afro became a defiant symbol of Black pride and a rejection of imposed beauty ideals.

Yet, this cultural shift was met with resistance. By the 1980s, there was a regression to earlier biases, with natural styles again branded as “unprofessional” and school policies labeling them “inappropriate,” even linking them to “gang affiliation.”

The very hairstyles rooted in ancestral practices became grounds for exclusion, creating a profound disconnect between heritage and acceptance in daily life.

Protective styles, deeply embedded in Black hair heritage, became particular targets of discrimination. Braids, cornrows, and locs, styles with historical roots in African cultures, faced bans in various settings. Consider the case of Chastity Jones in 2010. She was denied a job offer from Catastrophe Management Solutions after refusing to cut her locs.

The company’s hiring manager reportedly remarked, “They tend to get messy.” The Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (EEOC) filed a suit on Jones’ behalf in 2013, but the court ruled against her, upholding the company’s decision. This case highlights the legal ambiguity and vulnerability Black individuals faced.

• Braids ❉ A widespread traditional style used for protection and cultural expression, often associated with specific tribal affiliations and social status.
• Cornrows ❉ Intricate patterns that lay flat against the scalp, serving both protective and artistic purposes, documented in ancient temple carvings.
• Locs ❉ A symbol of spiritual connection and identity in many African and diasporic cultures, frequently demonized as “unprofessional” in Western contexts.

The pressure to conform extended to the most basic rituals of self-presentation. A 2023 research study found that Black Women’s Hair was 2.5 Times as Likely as White Women’s Hair to Be Perceived as “unprofessional.” The study also revealed that a significant majority, 66% of Black women, felt obligated to change their hair for a job interview, with 41% specifically altering their hair from curly to straight. This deeply ingrained bias forced many to compromise their natural hair health and their cultural expression, creating a quiet yet constant struggle for authenticity. At least one in five Black women reported feeling social pressure to straighten their hair for work, a proportion far higher than for white women.

Relay

The challenges facing textured hair before the CROWN Act were not isolated incidents but symptoms of a pervasive systemic issue, deeply rooted in historical prejudices. This struggle for recognition and respect reveals a complex interplay of legal inadequacies, social pressures, and the unwavering resolve to honor one’s ancestral legacy.

What Legal Gaps Sustained Hair Discrimination?

Prior to the CROWN Act, legal protections for natural hair were often inadequate. While the Civil Rights Act of 1964 prohibited discrimination based on race, courts frequently interpreted this narrowly, failing to extend protections to hair texture or styles commonly associated with race. This created a loophole, allowing employers and schools to enact policies that effectively discriminated against Black individuals. The 1976 case of Jenkins v.

Blue Cross Mutual Hospital Insurance, which upheld a race discrimination lawsuit against an employer for bias against afros, provided a limited precedent. Yet, this ruling often did not extend broad protections against other forms of hair discrimination.

The experiences of individuals consistently highlighted these legal vulnerabilities. The case of Andrew Johnson, a Black high school wrestler in New Jersey, brought the issue into sharp national focus in December 2018. He was given an ultimatum by a referee ❉ cut his locs or forfeit his match.

Despite his hair having been compliant in a prior match, under immense pressure, he chose to cut it. This incident served as a powerful catalyst, galvanizing support for legislative action.

The impact of this discrimination extended beyond denied opportunities; it imposed significant mental and financial burdens. Over 20% of Black women between 25-34 had been sent home from their jobs due to their hair. The ongoing pressure to conform led many to chemical straightening treatments, which are not only expensive but can also cause considerable physical damage to hair and scalp health. These practices, while yielding a temporary visual conformity, often disrupted the natural biology of the hair, leading to dryness and breakage, a stark contrast to the protective care practices of their ancestors.

Despite the absence of explicit federal protections, countless individuals endured financial hardship and emotional distress, often sacrificing their hair’s integrity and cultural connection to secure opportunities.

The call for change intensified, fueled by personal narratives and academic research that laid bare the systemic bias. A study published in the Social Psychological and Personality Science journal demonstrated that Black women with natural hairstyles were perceived as less professional, less competent, and less likely to be recommended for job interviews compared to Black women with straightened hair or white women. (Koval and Rosette, 2021) This scholarly work confirmed what many Black women intuitively knew and experienced in their daily lives.

The movement for the CROWN Act (“Creating a Respectful and Open World for Natural Hair”) emerged from this deep-seated need for legal clarity and protection. Founded by Dove, the National Urban League, Color of Change, and the Western Center for Law & Poverty, the CROWN Coalition worked to secure legislation. California was the first state to pass the CROWN Act in 2019, amending its Fair Employment and Housing Act to include protections against discrimination based on hair texture or styles commonly associated with race. This legislative stride signaled a crucial step toward recognizing hair as an inextricable part of racial identity and cultural heritage.

1. Legal Ambiguity ❉ Before the CROWN Act, anti-discrimination laws like Title VII were often interpreted to exclude hair texture, leaving textured hair vulnerable.
2. Economic Disadvantage ❉ Black women faced job rejections and career stagnation due to hair perceived as “unprofessional.”
3. Health Compromises ❉ The pressure to straighten led to widespread use of chemical relaxers, posing significant health risks to the scalp and hair over time.

The passage of the CROWN Act in various states, though not yet federal law, marks a significant turning point, a continuation of the long fight for self-determination and the freedom to express one’s heritage without fear of penalty. As of September 2024, 27 states and Washington, D.C. have passed CROWN laws, with a strong ongoing effort for a federal version.

Reflection

The journey of textured hair, from revered ancestral marker to a point of profound societal contention, and now toward a horizon of legal protection, mirrors a larger human story of identity and belonging. Before the CROWN Act, the challenges were not merely inconveniences; they were assaults on heritage, whispers of a past that sought to diminish the very essence of Black and mixed-race being. Each forced chemical straightener, each job denied, each school expulsion due to natural coils, represented a quiet violence against the vibrant legacy held within a single strand.

Roothea believes that hair is a living archive, a testament to ancestral wisdom, resilience, and beauty. The fight for the CROWN Act is a contemporary chapter in this enduring story, a collective assertion that the inherent beauty of textured hair is not negotiable, that its heritage is not to be suppressed. It reminds us that caring for our strands is not just about physical health, but about tending to the soul of our lineage, honoring the spirits who wore their hair in ways that spoke volumes, even when their voices were silenced. This act, then, is a reaffirmation of a truth long understood by those who have tended to their hair with reverence ❉ that our hair is our crown, a tangible link to a heritage of strength and splendor, now, and always.