Not only because I think it’s unnecessary, but also because I find it does more harm than good.
Black men are quick to talk about how much they love women who wear their hair in its unaltered, natural state. At the same time, they compare a Lupita Nyong’o beauty to a Meagan Good kind of beauty. I am sick of it.
When will black people realise that this debate divides us more than it unites us? Why should we keep looking for ways to be “different” from one another? It has to stop.
I am not, in anyway, against the so-called natural hair movement. In fact, I have an afro myself. I do, however, believe that as a black woman who lives in South Africa, I have the freedom to choose, from the many available options, how I want to wear my hair at a particular time.
Instead of debating who is better, can we not embrace the fact that we have options to hair care that suit our preferences.
Maintaining black hair is hard work. Actually, it’s a struggle.
We cannot just walk into a salon for a few highlights without having to relax, blow dry and all the work that comes with it. It’s not possible for us to wash our hair every single time we take a shower. We have growth, not split ends. Hairline issues are a given.
My friend, Gugu Zwane’s recent post on Facebook attests to my point.
She wrote, “When your afro betrays you and plays peek-a-boo through your bought hair. Dammit! ?#?blackgirlhairproblems?”.
I know there are women who cannot stand weaves, relaxers and all the chemicals that go with wearing one’s hair a certain way, but does that mean because they have dreadlocks, which they style beautifully, by the way, they are superior to women who buy their hair from the Chinese? Why do women in weaves feel that it’s okay to look down on the so-called ‘soul sistas’ who refuse to put on ‘fake’ hair? Enough already.
If being proudly [South] African means being able to embrace one another despite our racial and ethnic backgrounds and learning to speak each other’s languages and enjoy each other’s ‘traditional’ food, why is there an exception when it comes to black women’s choices on how to wear their hair?
If you still don’t know what I’m on about, I will not call you misinformed, but the next time you visit a hair salon or even a restaurant, observe how the girls with dreadlocks eye the ones with long, shiny Brazillian (or Malasian or Peruvian) weaves.
I have hope that we will, one day, stop all this madness and become a community that will inspire the next generation of black girls to embrace their hair in ways that suit their preferences instead of principles imposed on them by society.
We cannot let the ignorance carry on for much longer. We all sing along to India Arie’s I am not my hair, yet we judge the ones that chose to wear their “crown and glory” differently.
Can we stop finding ways to exclude each other and work on being the united, warm and accepting mankind that we claim to be, regardless of how “different” we think we are?
