What historical acts suppressed textured hair acceptance?

Roots

The very strands that crown us carry echoes of time, whispering stories of resilience and profound connection. For generations uncounted, textured hair has served as a living archive, a visible manifestation of identity, wisdom, and collective heritage. In ancient African societies, hair was never merely a superficial adornment. Its intricate styles and meticulously tended forms spoke a language, a visual lexicon conveying age, marital status, tribal affiliation, wealth, and spiritual devotion.

It was a canvas upon which lineage was painted, a sacred part of self, closest to the divine. Yet, this deep-seated reverence, this organic expression of ancestral belonging, faced deliberate and systematic dismantling through historical acts that sought to diminish its inherent value and, by extension, the humanity of those who bore it. The long shadow of this suppression stretches from forced physical alterations to insidious psychological imprints, each act a deliberate attempt to sever the profound link between textured hair and its heritage.

Textured hair, once a vibrant marker of ancestral identity and social standing, became a target of deliberate suppression through historical acts of dehumanization and cultural erasure.

The Ancestral Language of Coils and Kinks

Before the jarring discord of colonial intrusion, African hair practices were a testament to sophisticated communal life and intricate social structures. Consider the various African communities where hair defined a person’s place in the world. In ancient Egypt, for instance, elaborate wigs and braids were not just fashion; they signified Social Status and even a connection to deities, with the more adorned styles indicating higher rank. In other West African traditions, hairstyles communicated specific meanings ❉ a woman’s marital status, her fertility, or her standing within the community.

Young women, particularly, wore special braids during initiation ceremonies, marking their transition into adulthood. These customs were not arbitrary; they were meticulously woven into the fabric of daily life, reflecting a worldview where every aspect of being held meaning.

The very act of hairstyling itself was a deeply communal and intimate ritual. Often, mothers, sisters, aunts, and close friends would gather, their hands tending to one another’s crowns, sharing stories and wisdom, strengthening the bonds of kinship and community. This collective care reinforced a sense of belonging and cultural continuity.

The tools used were often art pieces themselves—combs sculpted from wood, bone, or metal, carrying symbolic essences that mirrored the spiritual significance of the hair itself. Hair was treated with natural softeners, conditioners, and colorants, a holistic approach that respected the hair’s natural inclinations and its connection to the earth’s bounty.

Across the continent, different cultures developed distinct styles, each a unique dialect within this vast language of hair:

• Fulani Braids ❉ Originating from the Fulani people of West Africa, these braids often feature a coiffure in the middle of the head, with braids hanging or looping on the sides, frequently adorned with beads, shells, or even family silver coins, reflecting wealth and heritage.
• Cornrows ❉ Found throughout Africa for millennia, these tightly braided rows against the scalp served as an ‘ID card,’ indicating tribe, social status, age, or marital status.
• Goddess Braids ❉ Dating back to Ancient Africa, these thick, raised braids were seen as works of precision and artistry, often adorned with metal accents.

The Erasure ❉ Forced Shaving and Dehumanization

The transatlantic slave trade unleashed a brutal and calculated assault on this rich heritage. One of the very first acts inflicted upon captured Africans, upon their arrival in the New World, was the forced shaving of their heads. This was no mere matter of hygiene; it was a deliberate, violent severing of identity.

Hair, being so central to African selfhood and community markers, became a primary target in the systematic process of dehumanization. The intent was clear ❉ to strip individuals of their past, their tribe, their social standing, and their very sense of who they were, reducing them to chattel.

Removed from their ancestral lands, enslaved Africans lost access to the natural tools, traditional oils, and communal time that had defined their hair care rituals. Under the harsh realities of enslavement, hair often became matted, tangled, and neglected, hidden beneath scarves or kerchiefs. This physical neglect was compounded by a new, imposed lexicon ❉ words like “nappy” became derogatory terms, used to denigrate African hair textures and reinforce a narrative of inferiority.

British colonists, for example, deemed African hair closer to sheep wool than human hair, laying the groundwork for the prejudiced notion of “good hair” versus “bad hair”. This concept, deeply rooted in anti-Black racism, began to create a damaging hierarchy within the enslaved communities, where lighter skin and straighter hair often translated into slightly more tolerable conditions.

The Tignon Laws ❉ A Calculated Act of Control

Even for those who gained a fragile freedom, the suppression continued through legal means. A striking historical example is the implementation of the Tignon Laws in 18th-century Louisiana. Free Creole women of color in New Orleans, known for their elaborate and artistic hairstyles, which openly displayed their coils and kinks with a regality that defied the prevailing social order, drew the attention of white men.

This perceived threat to the established status quo, where Black women’s beauty and self-expression challenged white supremacy, led to the passing of these laws in 1786. These mandates required Black women to wear a tignon—a scarf or handkerchief—over their hair, ostensibly to signify their enslaved class, regardless of their actual free status.

The women, however, responded with a profound act of resistance. They followed the letter of the law but rebelled in spirit, selecting costly, ornate fabrics and styling their tignons with such artistry and flair that they became even more attention-grabbing and beautiful, transforming an emblem of subjugation into a statement of empowering fashion. This instance reveals an early, direct attempt to legally suppress the public acceptance of textured hair by forcing its concealment, yet it also highlights the inherent creativity and resilience that persisted within the heritage of Black hair.

What Did Colonial Education Teach About Textured Hair’s Biology?

The advent of Western education, often introduced through missionary schools in colonial Africa, further contributed to the suppression of textured hair acceptance. These institutions frequently imposed grooming standards that deemed Afrocentric hairstyles “unhygienic” or “unprofessional,” effectively proscribing traditional Black hair practices in the name of “good grooming”. Children attending these schools were sometimes forced to shave their heads, a practice that, in some regions, continues to influence public school policies today. This created an environment where the unique biology of textured hair—its coils, kinks, and density—was pathologized and deemed inferior when compared to Eurocentric hair types.

The scientific understanding of hair structure itself became entangled in this narrative of racial hierarchy. Textured hair, with its elliptical follicle shape and varied curl patterns, was implicitly, and sometimes explicitly, framed as “wild” or “unruly,” a stark contrast to the preferred straight, fine hair of European standards. This negative labeling was not based on genuine biological understanding, but on prejudiced cultural perceptions, further solidifying the idea that Afrocentric hair was somehow less desirable or aesthetically challenging. The absence of comprehensive study or celebration of textured hair’s elemental biology within these imposed educational frameworks served to erase ancestral knowledge and replace it with a biased, limited understanding, directly impacting its acceptance.

Ritual

The suppression of textured hair acceptance did not halt at forced physical alteration or legal decree. It seeped into the very rituals of daily life, transforming practices of care and styling into acts of forced conformity, or, conversely, powerful statements of quiet defiance. Historically, styling textured hair was a rich, communal ritual—a space for connection, storytelling, and the transmission of cultural knowledge across generations.

Yet, this tender thread of tradition was challenged by pervasive societal pressures, pushing Black individuals towards a superficial transformation to meet narrow, imposed standards. The techniques, tools, and transformations associated with textured hair became battlegrounds for identity, reflecting a deep struggle to preserve heritage amidst an overwhelming demand for assimilation.

For generations, the nuanced artistry of textured hair styling transformed into a silent negotiation between ancestral identity and societal pressures to conform.

How Did Colonial Practices Impact Hair Styling Heritage?

The trauma of enslavement and colonialism fundamentally disrupted the elaborate styling traditions that were cornerstones of African communities. Stripped of their ancestral tools and customary ingredients, enslaved Africans had to adapt, using whatever was at hand to care for their hair—substances such as butter, kerosene, or bacon grease, and combs meant for livestock. This resourceful adaptation, born of necessity, marked a profound departure from the holistic, nourishing practices of their homelands.

Hair, once a vibrant expression of one’s place in the world, became a site of survival and subtle, often hidden, resistance. Braiding patterns, for instance, became clandestine maps for escape routes, a testament to the ingenuity and resilience embedded within hair heritage.

Post-slavery, the pressure to adopt Eurocentric beauty standards intensified as a means of social and economic advancement. Black individuals with hair that more closely resembled European textures were often granted greater access to opportunities in white-dominated spaces. This created an internal hierarchy, where the concept of “good hair”—straighter, looser curls—was favored over “bad hair”—kinkier, coily textures. This societal pressure was reinforced by minstrel shows, which frequently mocked Black features, including hair, further stigmatizing textured hair and pushing for its alteration.

The Rise of Alteration Tools and Their Societal Weight

The late 19th and early 20th centuries saw the advent of tools and chemical products designed to alter textured hair, fundamentally shifting hair practices within the Black community. The hair-straightening comb, introduced in the late 1800s, quickly gained prominence. This heated tool, often used directly on the scalp, presented risks of burns but offered the desired straightened appearance. Soon after, Garrett A.

Morgan Sr. developed a chemical relaxer cream in 1909, making hair straightening more accessible.

Pioneering Black businesswomen like Madam C.J. Walker and Annie Malone built empires by creating products to help Black women manage and style their hair, often in ways that aligned with prevailing beauty standards. While these innovations offered a sense of control and a pathway to perceived social acceptance, they also solidified the notion that altering natural texture was a necessity for success.

The multi-billion-dollar industry built around “good hair” reflects the societal pressure and economic necessity that drove countless Black women to chemically straighten their hair, often at physical and psychological cost. As one study points out, Black women reported using chemical straighteners not just for societal conformity but because they “felt more beautiful with straight hair,” indicating the internalization of these external pressures (2023 Survey Study cited in White, 2023).

Did Natural Hair Styles Always Signal Rebellion?

While chemical processing and heat styling became prevalent, natural hair never truly vanished. It re-emerged periodically as a powerful symbol of resistance and cultural pride, particularly during moments of heightened civil rights activism. The 1960s witnessed the first wave of the Natural Hair Movement, intertwined with the “Black Is Beautiful” movement. Activists like Marcus Garvey encouraged embracing natural kinks, proclaiming ❉ “Don’t remove the kinks from your hair!

Remove them from your brain!”. Angela Davis’s Afro became an emblem of Black power and rebellion against white American beauty standards, a public declaration of self-love and solidarity within the Black community. Wearing an Afro was a weapon in the fight for racial equality.

This period saw an uptick in Black individuals wearing their natural hair. A 1972 study of Black teens in St. Louis, though limited in scope, captured this broader trend, with 90 percent of young men and 40 percent of young women sporting their natural kinks. However, this shift was not without its complexities.

The social pressure to emulate Eurocentric hair persisted, impacting hair grooming decisions even when Afros were technically allowed in workplaces. As the communications scholar Tracey Owens Patton notes, “the progressive changes made during the Black Power movement eroded as assimilation became more dominant in the late 1970s and throughout the 1980s” (Patton, 2010). The decades that followed saw a return to pressed and permed hair, influenced by pervasive hair care advertisements. Yet, even then, styles like braids and cornrows, with their deep ancestral roots, saw renewed popularity, sometimes fueled by celebrity influence. These styles, despite their cultural significance, often triggered legal battles, with courts initially ruling against them, asserting they were not “immutable racial characteristics”.

The ritual of altering hair, therefore, became a complex interplay of personal choice, societal pressure, and deep cultural memory. Each straightened strand, each braided pattern, held layers of meaning, reflecting centuries of navigating external demands while striving to honor an inner, inherited sense of self.

Relay

The historical acts suppressing textured hair acceptance, far from being relics of a distant past, continue to ripple through contemporary society, impacting educational spaces, workplaces, and the very mental wellbeing of Black and mixed-race individuals. The legacy of these suppressive measures is not simply an academic point; it is a lived experience, shaping daily decisions about identity, professionalism, and belonging. Understanding this relay of historical prejudice into present-day realities requires a deep look at the mechanisms through which exclusion persists and the tenacious movements that rise to challenge it, always with the unwavering spirit of heritage as their guide.

The enduring legacy of historical hair suppression persists today, influencing societal perceptions, personal choices, and the ongoing fight for textured hair acceptance.

How Do Historical Prejudices Manifest in Modern Settings?

The echoes of past acts of suppression resonate powerfully in current societal norms. Today, Black hair continues to be deemed “unprofessional,” “messy,” or “unkempt” in various settings, particularly in schools and workplaces. This perception, deeply ingrained from centuries of Eurocentric beauty standards, often results in explicit and implicit discrimination.

School policies, for instance, have prohibited natural hairstyles like Afros, braids, and locs, leading to Black children being disciplined or removed from classrooms, thereby denying them educational opportunities. Reports indicate that 66 percent of Black girls in majority-white schools experience hair discrimination.

In professional environments, the statistics paint a similarly stark picture. A 2019 study by Dove discovered that Black women are 1.5 times more likely to be sent home from the workplace due to their hair. Further research, such as a 2020 study by Michigan State University and Duke University, found that Black women with natural hairstyles are less likely to secure job interviews compared to white women or Black women with straightened hair. Participants in this study often viewed Black hairstyles like Afros, twists, or braids as less professional.

For many Black women, altering their hair texture, whether through chemical relaxers or heat styling, remains a perceived necessity for social and economic mobility. This pressure to conform often leads to significant psychological distress and identity suppression.

One particularly telling case illustrating this modern manifestation of historical prejudice is that of Chastity Jones. In 2010, she received a job offer from Catastrophe Management Solutions, contingent on her cutting off her locs. Jones refused, and the offer was rescinded, with the company’s hiring manager reportedly stating that locs “tend to get messy”. The Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (EEOC) filed a lawsuit on her behalf, but the case was lost, and in 2016, the 11th Circuit Court of Appeals upheld the district court’s ruling.

This ruling underscored a persistent loophole in anti-discrimination laws, where hair, often considered a mutable characteristic, was not explicitly protected under racial discrimination statutes. The legal precedent established by a 1981 case involving American Airlines, which sided with the airline demanding an employee not wear braids by stating braids were not an “immutable racial characteristic,” continued to influence such outcomes.

What Is the Impact of Hair Discrimination on Mental Wellness?

The constant scrutiny and pressure to conform to Eurocentric hair standards take a significant toll on the mental and emotional wellness of Black and mixed-race individuals. Being told that one’s natural hair is “unprofessional,” “messy,” or “dirty” from childhood onward contributes to internalized racism and negative self-image. This often leads to increased anxiety and hypervigilance about how others perceive one’s hair, especially in academic or professional settings where Black individuals may already be underrepresented.

The mental health consequences extend to chronic stress, cultural disconnection, and even grief from hair loss due to the physical damage caused by chemical straightening processes. For young Black children, being disciplined in school for culturally significant hairstyles can instill an early message that their inherent identity is somehow inappropriate. Research in the UK, for instance, found that 93% of Black people have experienced microaggressions related to their Afro hair, with 52% reporting that hair discrimination negatively affected their self-esteem or mental health.

One in five Black women in the UK feel societal pressure to straighten their hair for work. These daily negotiations can diminish a sense of belonging and lead to identity suppression.

Can Legal Measures Protect Textured Hair Heritage?

In response to pervasive hair discrimination, significant legal and advocacy efforts have emerged to protect textured hair. The most prominent of these is the CROWN Act (Creating a Respectful and Open World for Natural Hair), which aims to prohibit discrimination based on hair texture or protective styles associated with race. California was the first state to pass the CROWN Act in 2019, making it illegal for schools and employers to discriminate against Black hair. Since then, numerous states have adopted similar legislation, with the movement gaining national momentum, though a federal CROWN Act has yet to pass both houses of Congress.

The CROWN Act seeks to close the loophole in previous anti-discrimination laws, such as Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, which, while prohibiting race-based discrimination, did not explicitly protect against discrimination based on phenotypical markers like hair texture. The EEOC itself has argued that bans or restrictions on natural hair or hairstyles associated with Black people are often rooted in white standards of appearance and perpetuate racist stereotypes that Black hairstyles are unprofessional.

The continued fight for the CROWN Act’s widespread adoption underscores the ongoing struggle to achieve full acceptance for textured hair. It represents a collective effort to shift societal perceptions, ensuring that the unique beauty and cultural significance of textured hair are not just tolerated, but respected and celebrated. The act itself is a legal acknowledgment of the deep historical and cultural roots of hair discrimination, aiming to safeguard the ability of Black individuals to wear their hair naturally without fear of professional or educational repercussions, thereby honoring their ancestral heritage.

1. Policy Changes ❉ The CROWN Act directly addresses discriminatory policies in workplaces and schools, aiming to dismantle institutional barriers against natural hairstyles.
2. Cultural Recognition ❉ The legislation signals a broader societal recognition of the cultural significance and historical context of Black hair, moving beyond mere aesthetics to acknowledge identity and heritage.
3. Empowerment ❉ Legal protections allow individuals to wear their hair in culturally authentic styles without fear of reprisal, fostering self-acceptance and pride in one’s heritage.

The relay of these historical acts of suppression continues, but it is met with an equally powerful relay of resistance, advocacy, and a growing understanding that hair is profoundly connected to identity, culture, and an enduring heritage.

Reflection

The journey through the historical acts that suppressed textured hair acceptance reveals a profound and continuous narrative, one where the very fibers of our being, our hair, became a site of struggle, adaptation, and ultimately, enduring resilience. From the ancient traditions that saw hair as a sacred crown, a marker of identity and communal bond, to the brutal dehumanization of the transatlantic slave trade, and through the insidious pressures of colonial rule and systemic discrimination, the story of textured hair is inextricably linked to the story of a people’s enduring spirit.

The echoes of forced shaves, the quiet defiance within the Tignon Laws, the chemical burn of relaxers adopted for acceptance, and the modern-day workplace biases—these are not isolated incidents. They are interconnected chapters in a living archive, each one reinforcing the deep societal currents that sought to diminish the intrinsic beauty and cultural significance of textured hair. Yet, within each act of suppression, a counter-narrative of strength and reclamation emerged. The “Black Is Beautiful” movement, the advocacy for the CROWN Act, the everyday choices of individuals to wear their hair in its natural state—these are luminous affirmations of heritage.

Roothea’s ‘Soul of a Strand’ ethos finds its truest expression in this historical unfolding. It speaks to the elemental biology of the hair itself, a marvel of nature’s design that persisted despite attempts to reshape and deny it. It speaks to the tender thread of tradition, passed down through generations, often in hushed tones or through the gentle hands of care, maintaining the knowledge of ancestral practices.

And it speaks most powerfully to the unbound helix—the genetic blueprint and cultural inheritance that refuses to be constrained, continuously springing forth as a vibrant, undeniable expression of self and collective memory. Understanding these historical acts is not about dwelling in past pain, but about recognizing the depth of our inheritance, celebrating the tenacity of those who came before us, and empowering future generations to wear their crowns not just with pride, but with a profound, knowing reverence for the historical journey each strand has travelled.