the complexity of hair in African American culture is something that i—as a white person with straight blond hair—was not inherently familiar with for most of my life. when i began working at a group home for young children, i began to see that the black childrens’ hair was not taken care of—and they noticed. i had a 7-year-old apologize over and over about how long it was taking for me to comb her hair because no one had touched it in weeks. i watched the black kids get denied haircuts every month because the volunteers didn’t know how to cut their hair. i saw staff members brush off a request to help comb or wash a 6, 7, or 8-year-old’s hair with a simple yet detrimental, “i don’t know how to do your hair.” these observations opened my eyes to hair discrimination, and with some more research i discovered that this complicated hair relationship has been forced upon African American people for much too long and in many different ways. i decided that i wanted to explore this even further for a class project. my good friend has done African American hair care trainings for group homes and foster parents, and i was so thankful for her willingness to help me with this project. her hair type is 3C.

“I am angry

because black little girls

are forced between knees

and straightened into

commercialized beauty

learning that naturalness

is a radical step toward

severed African roots”

-Kiana Davis, Digging for Roots—Resistance

“Don’t touch my hair

When it’s the feelings I wear

Don’t touch my soul

When it’s the rhythm I know

Don’t touch my crown

They say the vision I’ve found”

-Solange Knowles, Don’t Touch my Hair

“I am a person, not a throw blanket at Bed, Bath, and Beyond.”

-Sa’ida Shabazz, Hey White People: Please, Don’t Touch My Hair

“I spent countless

Hours alone in front of the

Mirror, hypnotized by

What I wished for and

What my imagination

Had made real. To have

A white girl’s hair.”

-Marita Golden, My

black hair: a tangled

story of race and

politics in America

“In my opinion, black women’s hair is like the petals of flowers,

different in all shapes, sizes, and colors. My hair is a reminder of my

roots from my ancestors and I’m very proud of its versatility. We are

not packaged Barbies that only come in one style.”

-Renee Bhagwandeen, from Pride, crown, and soul: the power of Black hair, by Sarah Morgan

“The style of my hair

Does not take away

from my

accomplishments,

nor does your

opinion define

my beauty.”

-Brea Finney,

from Pride, crown,

and soul: the power

of Black hair,

by Sarah Morgan

“My hair is my pride. My hair took a long time to get used to. My hair

makes me who I am. I used to wish that my hair was straight and

blonde. I’d love to explain to a seven-year-old me, that while white

beauty standards temporarily ruined my self-concept, I would later pick

up my own pieces and become strong, skilled, and satisfied with myself.”

- Sarah Morgan, Pride, crown, and soul: the power of Black hair

Beautiful

They said

I would never be beautiful

Painted me blue, black

Grinning forever

Big red lipped

Hair standing on end

Mocking God’s creations

They wanted me to hate

The natural texture of my hair

To despise the color of my skin

To feel inferior under laughing eyes

But I have unearthed the beauty

Behind their distorted images

Wrapped hands

Around hair of wool

And molded in love

Stared passes masked horrors

And fell in love with dark skin

Replacing their horror with beauty

And the shame with honor

They said……

-Kiana Davis, Digging for Roots