“When the slave trade began, traders witnessed the amount of care Africans gave to their hair… Realizing the prominence hair played in the lives of western Africans, the first thing slave traders did was shave their heads; this was an unspeakable crime for Africans, because it robbed them of their identity.”
By Fridith Seide, Contributing Writer
Today, black hair is a $9 billion dollar industry. A large number, but not surprising given hair’s historical significance to people of African descent.
In the early fifteenth century hairstyles for the Wolof, Mende, Mandingo, and Yoruba tribes signaled age, ethnic identity, marital status, rank within the community, religion, war, and wealth*. Grooming was a time of bonding for women in many African villages. Hair held a very strong spiritual dynamic for Africans and women wore their hair adorned with beads, flowers, cloth materials, and shells.
When the slave trade began, traders witnessed the amount of care Africans gave to their hair. Europeans saw many different styles of hair, but they weren’t there to uplift Africans or recognize their beauty, they were there to kidnap Africans and enslave them for free labor. Realizing the prominence hair played in the lives of western Africans, the first thing slave traders did was shave their heads; this was an unspeakable crime for Africans, because it robbed them of their identity*.
There is great danger in stripping a person of their identity and forcing them to adopt one that is not their own. We see examples of this when boarding schools were built for Native American children. These schools were a ploy to strip the children of their culture and have them adopt the dominant cultures idea of “acceptable” hair, dress, and religion.
Many African Americans have forgotten the true spiritual importance that our hair has held for us in our history. We have accepted the image of those who used to oppress us and continue to use sodium hydroxide in our hair and in our daughters’ hair.
I have rejected the hegemonic view of beauty of the dominant culture, and have embraced the natural beauty that is my hair. Cutting off my chemically straightened hair was an emotional and spiritual experience that has far surpassed anything I have experienced in any church. At the beginning of my transition I faced strong opposition especially from my mother. She called not just my hair, but me ugly. I was told I would never be able to “find a husband”, I was told I will “never get respectable work”, my father told me one day “Darling, it’s hard enough for blacks in this country, why do you want to bring this upon yourself?”
I never realized until then the power that had been taken from me, that I had just taken back and all I did was cut out the “creamy crack”.
*Source info: Patton, Tracey Owens (2006) Hey Girl, Am I More than My Hair?:
African American Women and Their Struggles with Beauty, Body Image, and Hair, NWSA Journal, Vol. 18 No. 2, 24-51
