When did the bias against textured hair begin?

Roots

The very notion of bias against textured hair strikes at the heart of our shared human story, a discordant note in a long-standing song of heritage. To truly comprehend when this unfortunate sentiment began to take root, we must first journey back to a time when coiled strands, kinky curls, and bountiful waves were simply understood as an inherent aspect of being, a revered part of one’s identity, community, and spiritual connection. For centuries, across the African continent, hair was not a mere adornment; it was a living archive, a scroll upon the head, communicating lineage, social standing, age, and even marital status without a single spoken word. This deep respect, this profound understanding of hair’s inherent worth, stood as a cornerstone of ancestral societies.

Hair as a Symbol of Identity and Status

Before the shadows of distant ships darkened the horizon, the intricate artistry of hair styling in African communities conveyed a rich lexicon of meaning. From the West African coast to the heart of the continent, hairstyles were a profound visual language. A person’s braided patterns might signify their tribe, the delicate adornments hinting at their wealth, or perhaps a particular style proclaiming their eligibility for marriage or their passage into adulthood.

This practice was deeply woven into the fabric of daily life, a communal ritual where the crafting of hair strengthened bonds and transmitted cultural knowledge from elder to youth. In Yoruba culture, for instance, skilled braiders, held in high esteem, sculpted hair into forms with deep spiritual significance, often connected to the community’s roles and rituals.

Hair in pre-colonial African societies served as a dynamic, unspoken language, revealing identity, social standing, and spiritual connections within communities.

The Elemental Biology of Textured Hair

From a biological standpoint, textured hair is a marvel of evolutionary genius. Its unique helical structure, ranging from broad waves to tight coils, developed as an adaptive response to varied environmental conditions, providing insulation and protection from intense sun exposure. The elliptical shape of the hair follicle, differing from the rounder follicles of straight hair, gives rise to its characteristic curl.

This natural architecture, while often mislabeled in later oppressive contexts, is fundamentally designed for resilience and protection. It is a testament to natural adaptability, a physical attribute that, in its original context, signified strength, not a supposed flaw.

For millennia, care for these strands involved practices attuned to their natural properties. Traditional African hair care was centered on nourishing the hair and scalp with natural oils, butters, and herbs, recognizing the hair’s tendency towards dryness and its need for moisture. These practices, passed down through generations, were not about altering the hair’s natural form but enhancing its health and preserving its inherent beauty. The Basara Tribe of Chad, for instance, has long utilized a unique blend of herb-infused raw oil and animal fat, often called Chebe, applied weekly to promote exceptional length retention, wearing their hair in protective braids to maintain its integrity.

Similarly, women of Ethiopian and Somali descent traditionally use a homemade “hair butter” of whipped animal milk and water, achieving remarkable results for their hair. These were ancestral methods, born of observation and deep understanding, that celebrated the hair’s natural state.

Ritual

The rhythms of ancestral life often moved in concert with the tending of hair, a practice steeped in care and communal gathering. Consider the quiet moments beneath a tree, older hands patiently working through younger strands, sharing stories and passing down the lore of plants that brought sheen and strength. Hair care was never a solitary act.

It was a time of bonding, of intergenerational teaching, where knowledge of the earth’s bounty met the wisdom of the body. This intimate ritual was a constant thread connecting individuals to their lineage, their community, and the collective wisdom of those who came before them.

The Tender Thread of Ancestral Care

Across diverse African cultures, the care for hair was highly valued, an intimate activity where deep connections formed and knowledge was shared. It was a holistic practice, extending beyond mere aesthetics to encompass well-being, social status, and spiritual reverence. Traditional tools, often carved from wood or bone, were fashioned with purpose and intention, designed to work in harmony with the natural contours of textured hair, ensuring gentle detangling and healthy growth. The selection of ingredients for cleansing, moisturizing, and styling was a meticulous affair, drawing from the local flora and fauna.

• Shea Butter ❉ A rich, nourishing butter derived from the nut of the African shea tree, used for centuries to moisturize scalp and hair, providing a protective barrier against environmental stressors.
• Coconut Oil ❉ Extracted from coconuts, this oil was valued for its ability to penetrate the hair shaft, offering deep conditioning and helping to prevent protein loss.
• Argan Oil ❉ Though often associated with North Africa, this oil from the argan tree was traditionally used for its restorative properties, enhancing hair’s elasticity and shine.
• Ochre Paste ❉ The Himba tribe in Namibia mixes red ochre with butterfat to create Otjize, a paste used to coat their hair and skin, signifying important life stages and offering practical protection from sun and insects.

When Did Reverence Begin to Wither?

The question of when the bias against textured hair began leads us to a profound rupture, a violent dislocation from these deeply rooted practices and the accompanying cultural esteem. It was not a sudden, singular event, but a gradual erosion, fueled by ideologies that sought to dismantle the humanity and heritage of African peoples. The advent of the Transatlantic Slave Trade in the 15th century marks a significant turning point. As enslaved Africans were forcibly transported across oceans, their hair became a site of deliberate dehumanization.

Slave traders frequently shaved the heads of captives, a brutal act intended to strip individuals of their identity, severing visible ties to their cultural heritage and communal identity. This act was not merely for hygiene; it was psychological warfare, an attempt to erase the self, to render individuals anonymous chattel. The loss of traditional hair care implements and nourishing ingredients in the foreign lands exacerbated the challenges of hair maintenance, further alienating individuals from ancestral practices.

Relay

The echoes of this early disfigurement, the deliberate chipping away at the inherent value of textured hair, reverberated across generations, taking on new forms in the colonial and post-slavery eras. The bias, once a tool of physical subjugation, transmuted into a societal ideology, shaping beauty standards and influencing perceptions far beyond the confines of plantations. This is where the initial seed of prejudice, sown in acts of forced cultural erasure, germinated into systemic discrimination, perpetuated through a false hierarchy of human appearance.

The Genesis of Eurocentric Beauty Standards

The period of systematic European colonization, beginning in the 15th century, solidified notions of European features as the universal standard of beauty. This white supremacist ideal, deeming “Caucasian” features as the touchstone for appeal, positioned any deviation, particularly African physical traits, as undesirable or eccentric. Textured hair, naturally abundant and varied, became a prime target within this newly constructed aesthetic hierarchy.

Descriptions of Afro-textured hair as “woolly” or “peppercorn” by Europeans, terms often used to describe animal fur, served to further dehumanize Black people and validate their enslavement. This deliberate mischaracterization created a narrative of “unruliness” and “unmanageability” surrounding Black hair, a narrative that persists even today.

The imposition of Eurocentric beauty standards during colonial expansion actively racialized hair texture, transforming natural variation into a perceived flaw.

The Comb Test and the Caste of Curl

A powerful, less commonly cited, yet profoundly illustrative historical example of this bias is the Comb Test, employed in some Black communities after emancipation in the United States. This cruel practice determined membership into certain churches or elite groups based on how smoothly a comb could pass through one’s hair. If the hair was too “kinky” or tightly coiled, membership was denied. This internal policing within the Black community itself reveals the insidious depth of the internalized oppression, where proximity to European hair textures became a marker of social acceptance and perceived superiority.

This system, tied to the concept of Texturism, further stratified individuals based on hair type, mirroring the skin tone hierarchy known as Colorism that emerged during slavery. Lighter-skinned individuals with less kinky hair, often a result of nonconsensual relations with slave owners, frequently received preferential treatment. This demonstrates how the bias against textured hair was not solely an external imposition but also led to deeply damaging internal divisions, forcing individuals to strive for an aesthetic that was biologically distant from their ancestral heritage.

The economic and social pressures to conform to these alien beauty standards were immense. Straightened hair and looser curls became synonymous with “good hair” and were seen as prerequisites for social and career mobility. The chemical straightening industry, spearheaded by Black entrepreneurs like Madam C.J.

Walker, rose to prominence during this era, offering products that allowed Black women to mimic European hair textures. While these innovations provided a means for women to navigate a prejudiced society, they also reinforced the idea that natural textured hair was unkempt, unacceptable, or unprofessional.

Legislative Controls and Cultural Resistance

The bias against textured hair manifested not only in societal norms and economic pressures but also in legal restrictions. The Tignon Laws in Louisiana, enacted in 1786, serve as a stark reminder of early legislative efforts to control Black hair. These laws mandated that free Black women cover their hair with a scarf, or tignon, in public, aiming to diminish their attractiveness and social standing relative to white women. Even though Black women subverted these laws by adorning their tignons with expensive fabrics and intricate styles, the intent to suppress and control their expression was clear.

Even after the Civil Rights Act of 1964 prohibited race-based discrimination, it did not explicitly protect against discrimination based on physical characteristics linked to race, such as hair texture. This left a loophole that allowed employers and schools to continue discriminatory practices. Cases of hair discrimination in workplaces and schools became prevalent, leading to significant legal battles throughout the late 20th and early 21st centuries. In response, the CROWN Act (Creating a Respectful and Open World for Natural Hair) was initiated, advocating for legislation that prohibits discrimination based on hair texture and protective styles like Afros, braids, curls, or locs.

California was the first state to pass such legislation in 2019, and as of July 2024, 25 U.S. states have enacted similar protections. This ongoing legislative movement underscores the pervasive and enduring nature of hair-based bias, revealing a continued societal need to rectify historical injustices and reclaim the respect due to all forms of textured hair.

Reflection

To stand here now, witnessing the resurgence of pride in textured hair, feels like a reclamation of ancestral wisdom, a homecoming of sorts. The journey to understand when the bias against our hair began is not merely an academic exercise; it is a profound meditation on the enduring strength of the human spirit, a testament to the resilience that allowed beauty and identity to persist even in the face of brutal erasure. Our strands, in their varied forms—from the tightest coil to the loosest wave—are not just biological wonders; they are living archives, each helix carrying the whispers of history, the stories of survival, and the vibrant legacy of communities who understood hair as a sacred extension of self.

The very concept of the “Soul of a Strand” asks us to consider our hair not through the limiting lens of imposed standards, but through the expansive, affirming vision of our heritage. It calls us to recognize that the negative perceptions that took root centuries ago, during times of immense societal upheaval and oppression, were never about the hair itself. They were about power, control, and the systemic devaluation of a people. Unraveling this historical truth allows us to consciously choose a different path, one that honors the deep-seated connections between our hair, our well-being, and the collective wisdom of those who cultivated and celebrated these natural forms for millennia.

This understanding brings a deep sense of purpose, a quiet resolve to nurture our coils and curls not just for their physical health, but as an act of reverence for our lineage. It reminds us that every act of care, every embrace of our natural texture, contributes to a living library, continually building upon the ancestral practices of radiance. The narrative of bias, though painful, illuminates the extraordinary journey of textured hair—a journey from elemental biology and ancient reverence, through periods of profound challenge, to its current role as a powerful voice for identity and a beacon shaping healthier futures. Our hair, truly, is an unbound helix, continually reaching toward the light, carrying the luminous memory of all that it has been, and all that it can become.