Roots
The very strands upon our heads, especially those with coils and curls, whisper tales older than written history. They carry an ancestral memory, a physical testament to the winding path humanity has traveled. To contemplate how textured hair has been seen across time, then, becomes an act of listening, of tuning into a long-held wisdom.
It’s a journey through the intimate geography of our beings, where biology and cultural narrative intertwine, each influencing how this crowning glory has been understood and celebrated, or tragically, misunderstood. For the Soul of a Strand, every curl holds a story, a connection to a deep well of heritage that shapes not only our physical appearance but our very sense of self.
Ancient Echoes of Identity and Status
Before the shadows of distant ships touched continental shores, before the cruel trade began its rending work, textured hair in African societies was a vibrant language. It spoke volumes without uttering a single sound. In these pre-colonial communities, a person’s hairstyle was no mere adornment; it served as a living marker, communicating social status, age, marital standing, ethnic identity, religious adherence, wealth, and even rank within the community. Intricate braiding techniques, some of which date back thousands of years to Namibia around 3500 BC, were not only artistic expressions but codified messages (Ayana Byrd & Lori Tharps, 2001).
In ancient African societies, hairstyles conveyed intricate maps of social standing, age, marital status, and spiritual beliefs.
Consider the Yoruba people of Nigeria, for instance. Their hairstyles, such as the ‘Irun Kiko’ style of thread-wrapping, carried deep meanings related to femininity, marriage, and rites of passage. Braids could indicate a woman’s marital status, fertility, or her position within the community. Young women often wore elaborate braids during initiation ceremonies, marking their transition to adulthood.
The Maasai tribe in Kenya and Tanzania maintained specific locked styles, while the Zulu tribe of South Africa used Bantu Knots for particular ceremonial purposes. This deep cultural integration meant that hair care itself was a communal act, a shared ritual passed down through generations, often entrusted to close relatives, strengthening familial bonds and preserving collective knowledge.
Hair as a Spiritual Conduit
The reverence for textured hair extended beyond the social realm, touching the spiritual heart of many ancient African civilizations. Hair, being the highest point of the human body, was often considered a conduit for spiritual energy, a direct connection to the divine and to ancestors. Some beliefs held that hair contained a person’s spirit, potent enough for spiritual practices, protection, or even summoning a mate. This sacred understanding meant that hair was treated with immense care, its styling a sacred practice.
An individual’s unkempt hair in some Nigerian communities, for example, could signify mourning, depression, or even a state of disarray. Such perceptions speak to a worldview where the physical manifestation of one’s hair was intrinsically linked to internal well-being and spiritual alignment.
This pre-colonial understanding of hair was disrupted profoundly by the transatlantic slave trade. The historical record indicates a calculated assault on this deeply rooted cultural identity. Slave traders often shaved the heads of captured Africans upon their arrival in the ‘New World,’ a deliberate act of dehumanization.
This was more than a practical measure; it was a symbolic severing, a brutal attempt to strip away the spiritual and cultural connections that hair embodied. The very act aimed to erase a heritage that had, for centuries, been publicly displayed and celebrated on the crown.
Ritual
The forced migration of African peoples across the ocean brought a stark shift in how textured hair was experienced and perceived. The communal rituals of hair care, the meticulous braiding that conveyed stories and status, were fractured. Removed from their ancestral lands, enslaved Africans lost access to traditional tools, nourishing ingredients, and the time required for elaborate styling.
This profound disruption led to matted, tangled hair, often hidden beneath scarves, transforming a symbol of pride into a source of shame in the eyes of their oppressors. It marks a painful turning point, where colonial ideologies began to warp perceptions of hair that were once held sacred.
The Weight of New World Perceptions
European colonists, operating under a self-serving doctrine of ‘civilizing missions,’ actively classified Afro-textured hair as something closer to animal fur or wool than human hair. This dehumanizing comparison served a chilling purpose: it validated enslavement and exploitation, laying the groundwork for centuries of prejudice. The very word ‘dreadlocks,’ historians suggest, may derive from the European description of naturally matted African hair as “dreadful” during the traumatic Middle Passage. This systematic pathologizing of textured hair by the dominant social and scientific communities led to an internalized belief among many enslaved individuals that their hair was inferior.
The transatlantic slave trade initiated a profound shift, forcing textured hair from its place of reverence into a realm of imposed inferiority.
A pernicious hierarchy quickly developed on plantations, often dividing enslaved people based on skin tone and hair texture. Lighter-skinned individuals with straighter hair, frequently a result of nonconsensual relations with slave owners, received preferential treatment, securing less physically demanding roles in the house. This created a system where straighter hair became associated with social advantage and economic opportunity, planting the seeds of ‘texturism’ within the Black community ❉ a preference for looser curls and a discrimination against tighter textures. This internal division, sadly, continues to cast a long shadow today.
Hair as Resistance and Hidden Communication
Despite the brutal efforts to strip away identity, enslaved women and men found ways to resist, often through the very hair their captors sought to degrade. Hair became a covert language, a means of communication and a tool for survival. For instance, specific cornrow patterns were reputedly used as coded maps, indicating escape routes or safe havens for those seeking freedom. Some narratives even suggest that enslaved women braided rice and seeds into their hair, a method of smuggling sustenance that could later be planted upon escape, a truly profound act of enduring hope.
The ‘Tignon Laws,’ enacted in New Orleans in 1786 by Spanish Governor Esteban Rodríguez Miró, serve as a stark historical example of this suppression and resistance. Free Creole women of color in New Orleans often adorned their hair in elaborate styles, displaying their coils and curls with an air of regality, attracting attention that some white women found threatening. To curb this perceived social competition and assert a visual hierarchy, the law required these women to cover their hair with a ‘tignon’ (a scarf or kerchief) in public, regardless of their free status.
- New Orleans Tignon Laws ❉ A 1786 decree that required free Black women to cover their hair in public.
- Purpose of the Law ❉ Intended to visually mark free Black women as part of the slave class and curb their perceived social competition with white women.
- Act of Defiance ❉ Black women often adorned these mandated headwraps with vibrant colors and elaborate designs, turning an oppressive symbol into a statement of style and defiance.
Yet, in a testament to the resilient human spirit, these women transformed the forced head covering into an act of defiance, adorning their tignons with colorful, luxurious fabrics and creating elaborate, artistic wraps. This act, turning a symbol of subjugation into a statement of self-expression, stands as a potent symbol of how communities found ways to preserve and adapt their heritage even under immense duress.
Relay
The reverberations of historical factors, particularly the Eurocentric standards imposed during slavery, continued to shape perceptions of textured hair long after emancipation. The journey to reclaim inherent beauty and agency over one’s hair has been a persistent, multi-generational effort, spanning legal battles, social movements, and deep personal reckonings. This sustained drive highlights hair as a living archive, continuously relaying stories of resistance, identity, and the enduring power of cultural lineage.
From Assimilation to Afro Ascendance
Post-emancipation, the societal pressure to assimilate into Eurocentric norms remained intensely strong. For many Black individuals, particularly women, straightened hair became synonymous with respectability, professionalism, and access to socioeconomic opportunities. This era saw the widespread adoption of hot combs, flat irons, and eventually lye-based chemical relaxers, often at great physical cost due to burning scalps and damaged hair. Entrepreneurial figures like Madam C.J.
Walker, while building significant wealth, did so within a context where straightened hair was the prevailing ideal, and their products often facilitated this alteration. The message, subtly reinforced through early 20th-century advertising, was clear: “good hair” was straight or loosely waved.
The Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s marked a significant turning point, a powerful cultural awakening that directly confronted these inherited beauty standards. The emergence of the Afro hairstyle became a potent symbol of Black pride, self-love, and political resistance. Figures like Angela Davis, with her iconic Afro, transformed hair into a visible declaration against white American beauty norms. A study from 1972 on Black teens in St.
Louis, though small in scope, revealed a notable shift: 90% of young men and 40% of young women were sporting their natural texture, reflecting a broader national trend. This period was not only about aesthetics; it was about reclaiming autonomy and asserting a collective identity rooted in African heritage.
The Enduring Struggle for Recognition
Despite the strides made during the Civil Rights era and the subsequent waves of the natural hair movement, the legacy of hair discrimination persists. A 2020 study revealed that Black women with natural hairstyles are more likely to be perceived as less professional and, consequently, less likely to secure employment compared to Black women with straightened hair. This troubling statistic underscores how historical biases remain deeply ingrained within professional and social environments. The ‘pencil test,’ once used during Apartheid in South Africa, where a pencil placed in hair determined racial classification and access to privileges, serves as a chilling reminder of how hair has been weaponized as a tool of oppression.
Modern discrimination against textured hair reflects deeply rooted historical biases, impacting professional and social opportunities.
The legal landscape has begun to respond to these enduring challenges. The CROWN Act (Creating a Respectful and Open World for Natural Hair), first introduced in 2019 by California State Senator Holly Mitchell, represents a legislative effort to combat race-based hair discrimination. This legislation, now law in several US states, aims to protect individuals from discrimination based on hair texture and protective styles commonly associated with racial or ethnic identity. It acknowledges that policies banning such hairstyles are often rooted in Eurocentric appearance standards and perpetuate racist stereotypes, thereby exacerbating anti-Black bias.
The influence of globalization and media further complicates contemporary perceptions. While social media has certainly provided platforms for the natural hair community to share knowledge, celebrate diversity, and challenge traditional beauty ideals, it has also inadvertently amplified certain global beauty standards that often still lean towards smoother textures. The commercial hair care industry, too, has evolved, from early 20th-century products focused on straightening to a more recent proliferation of brands catering to natural textured hair. However, conversations around product ownership and marketing still highlight the historical imbalance, with Black entrepreneurs accounting for only a small percentage of ownership in the broader Black hair industry.
- 1960s Civil Rights Era ❉ The Afro becomes a powerful symbol of Black pride and resistance against Eurocentric beauty standards.
- 1980s and 1990s ❉ Resurgence of pressed and permed hair, influenced by pervasive hair care advertisements.
- 2000s and Beyond ❉ Second wave of the natural hair movement, spurred by films and social media, leading many to abandon chemical alterations.
How Do Changing Perceptions Shape Legal Protections for Textured Hair?
The journey for textured hair to gain equitable footing within societal structures is a continuous one, necessitating legal interventions to address systemic bias. The CROWN Act, for instance, directly responds to the historical and ongoing discrimination against hairstyles inherent to Black and mixed-race identities. This legislation serves as a tangible expression of a societal reckoning with past prejudices, acknowledging that the way a person’s hair naturally grows or is styled as part of their cultural heritage should not be a barrier to education, employment, or public accommodation.
Such legal advancements represent a vital recognition of the deeply personal and cultural significance of textured hair, moving towards a future where its varied expressions are not just tolerated, but truly celebrated without prejudice. The work, however, continues beyond legislation, requiring a transformation of ingrained perceptions and a wider societal embrace of the beauty that lies within every curl and coil.
Reflection
Our journey through the historical currents that have shaped perceptions of textured hair reveals a profound truth: a strand is never merely a strand. It is a living archive, holding the whispers of ancient reverence, the echoes of imposed shame, and the resounding affirmations of reclamation. From the revered crowns of ancestral Africa, where hair served as a vibrant social and spiritual language, to the wrenching dismemberment of identity during forced migration, and the resilient resurgence of pride in the modern era, textured hair stands as a testament to the enduring human spirit. This heritage, so intimately woven into Black and mixed-race experiences, reminds us that the quest for self-acceptance often begins with honoring our physical lineage.
To tend to our textured hair is to engage in a profound dialogue with generations past, a soulful act of remembrance, and a powerful declaration of belonging. It is to acknowledge that beauty, at its deepest level, is a harmonious extension of our unique and varied heritage.
References
- Byrd, Ayana D. & Tharps, Lori L. (2001). Hair Story: Untangling the Roots of Black Hair in America. St. Martin’s Press.
- Cobb, Jasmine. (2019, April 15). New Growth: The Art and Texture of Black Hair after Emancipation. Lecture at American University.
- Johnson, Candice, & Bankhead, Tisha. (2014). Black Hair: Health, Culture, and Identity. The African American Studies Review, 7(1), 85-97.
- Jones, Geoffrey. (2010). Beauty Imagined: A History of the Global Beauty Industry. Oxford University Press.
- Patton, Tracey Owens. (2006). “Hey Girl, Am I More Than My Hair?”: African American Women and Their Hair. Black Women, Gender and Families, 1(2), 16-25.
- Peiss, Kathy. (1998). Hope in a Jar: The Making of America’s Beauty Culture. University of Pennsylvania Press.
- Thompson, Lynn. (2009). Black Women, Hair, and Identity: Hair as a Symbol of Race, Culture, and Resistance. University of North Carolina Press.
- Yerima, S. (2017). Black hair and the politics of respectability in the African diaspora. Journal of Black Studies, 48(6), 646-667.