Why is it that people have so much to say about black women’s hair? Especially when it comes to the judgment within the black community itself?
It is no secret that Moravian is a predominantly white institution (PWI), despite what their Instagram page would lead you to believe. With the number of students and black women on campus multiplying every year, there is a surplus of black hairstyles, most commonly box braids.
The popularity of box braids among college students has less to do with their trendiness and more to do with their low-maintenance, protective style. 4C, 4B, and 4A hair is time-consuming to care for, and washing your hair in a shared shower sounds less than ideal, especially when a typical wash day can take over an hour. It’s easier to have a style that is both easy to care for and easy to style.
Dreads, locks, faux locks, twists, cornrows, sew-ins, crochet styles, or any other hairstyle that allows black students to get up, go to class, and spend less time on their hair are popular on campus. But what about the women on campus who chose to wear their hair natural?
While not a popular choice, it is still something you’ll see some black students wearing. Yet, the dialogue of natural hair within some black student spaces on campus is unwelcoming and unaccepting of this choice.
I have spoken to Black women who have received comments from other Black women like, ‘You finally got your hair done!’ after getting a protective style following weeks of wearing my afro.
A majority, if not all, of the compliments directed towards black hair from other Black women are towards protective styles, and not natural hair. This experience isn’t isolated, but rather a reflection of silent policing that happens among black students, rooted in generational pain.
Hair types: 4C, 4B, and 4A have a deep history of controversy within society, the workplace, and schools. There isn’t a space or institution that has questioned the appropriateness or beauty of black hair.
What isn’t regularly brought to attention is the prevalence of black hair within black communities; some Black women arbitrate the wearing of natural hair as a direct manifestation of deeply embedded internal racism. In a world where the CROWN Act needs to exist to prevent hair-based discrimination forcibly, why are we attacking our people?
When black women judge other black women for wearing their hair naturally, it becomes a taboo. That redirection is promoting division within the black community and white feminism in black spaces.
There is a prominent influx of hatred among black women, distributed by black women. To hold black women accountable isn’t the only solution; it’s to acknowledge the white roots of hatred towards women of color.
For every black woman who perpetuates the white power agenda, there is a generation of acrimony that has intoxicated and poisoned the positioning of black folks toward themselves.
That judgment feels heavier when it comes from inside the community. There’s a certain sense of being stabbed in the back when the critique comes from outside. Particularly in a PWI, there’s a level of immediate comfort that comes from sharing space with another Black woman. So to be torn down by the very same people who you’d expect to lift you up? It hurts. White spaces have convinced us that we must believe in the hatred of Black women. The obsession, whether conscious or not, of being as white-adjacent as possible is just as harmful now as it was decades ago .Black women have been assessing how to feel about themselves and others for too long. We have bent to the will of self-expression, folding ourselves up while denying ourselves freedom. It is time to stand up and hold others accountable with care and consideration. I implore you to challenge your oppressor, others, and yourself, and dare to love your hair.
