To some, hair is simply a part of their appearance. But for many people, hair is deeper than that. It’s culture and identity.
I never realized how polarizing hair could be until I experienced it myself. As a white girl with naturally curly hair, I struggled with maintaining it as a child. My parents, realizing it or not, were driven by internalized racism when it came to caring for my hair.
I was never allowed to use products or methods that were created for Black people.
I would brush my hair dry, use Head & Shoulders in the shower, and when I got out of the shower, I wouldn’t put any products in it. That routine alone makes me cringe. For most of my childhood, my frizzy hair was either in a ponytail or braids. When I wore it down, I would get nicknames from family members like “Sideshow Bob” from “The Simpsons.”
It wasn’t until my sophomore year of high school that I realized what my hair really needed was products marketed for Black hair.
I asked a close friend who is biracial and has a curl pattern similar to mine if she could share her curl routine with me. She sent me a whole slideshow of products and how to use them. I immediately went to the store and bought the products that worked for me. I still use them all today.
When looking back at my adolescent years, I understand that it wasn’t just ignorance about hair types. It was subtle and unspoken racism that had consequences but less for me and more for the Black women whose hair has been politicized and discriminated against for centuries.
Across the country there are still schools that suspend students for wearing braids, locs or afros. Employers continue to describe natural Black hairstyles as “unprofessional” or “messy.” Even in spaces that preach diversity, there’s often an unspoken expectation that Black people should “tame” their hair.
According to research done by Duke University’s Fuqua School of Business, Black women with natural hairstyles are less likely to get job interviews than White women or Black women with straightened hair.
“Our individually held biases often precede the type of racist practices that become embedded and normalized within organizations,” said head researcher Ashleigh Shelby Rosette, a management professor and a senior associate dean at the time of the study.
There is a long history of Black hair being policed. During slavery, heads were often shaved to erase identity, and later, straightening hair became a need for survival in a society that viewed naturally curly hair as unprofessional. Black people have been conditioned to the idea that in order to be accepted into society they need to tone down their hair.
But Black hair is not unprofessional. It’s not anything that needs to be “tamed.” Curly hair is beautiful and deeply cultural, and the fact that it’s still treated as if it’s distasteful speaks volumes about how much racism is engrained into society.
In recent years, laws like the Creating a Respectful and Open World for Natural Hair Act, which prohibits hair-based discrimination in schools and workplaces, have been passed in several U.S. states, including Texas.
The fact that we need legislation to allow people for wearing their hair the way it naturally grows from their heads tells you everything you need to know about how deep the problem goes.
My experience with curly hair doesn’t even come close to the discrimination Black people face. I’ve never been suspended from school or denied a job because of my hair, but my experience does show how racism quietly shapes our thinking.
As a child I believed that “Black products” weren’t for me because that’s what my parents believed, even though that’s what my hair needed.
But that’s how systemic racism works. It’s not loud or hateful. It’s subtle.
It hides in the hair care aisles. It lives in the dress code of businesses. It whispers through marketing campaigns.
Hair is not just hair. It’s identity, it’s history and it’s pride. Everyone deserves the freedom to wear their hair without fear of judgment or discrimination.
