The politics of black hair

Mainstream conversations about feminism usually proceed from the standpoint of middle-class white women - but they need to know their experiences aren't universal, including when it comes to hair.

White people: The texture of hair that grows from our heads is different to yours. The implications of how we wear our hair, and the meanings invested in whatever styles we rock, might differ from yours too.

And I’m sorry to be the one to break it to you, but when you see a black woman with a huge glossy mane of blonde hair she is usually wearing a weave or a wig. And yes, my hair does grow, and no, I don’t wear it naturally because I can “get away with a bit of frizz”, but because I like it.

However, lack of awareness about our hair is standard across both society and mainstream media platforms, exemplified here by Hadley “I was astonished when Beyoncé was revealed as a wig wearer” Freeman. What is astonishing is how little you seem to know about our hair, even after all these years of us living in close proximity to each other. Not to mention all the (unacknowledged of course) innovations that have been borrowed from black hair culture and are now considered mainstream.

During the Twitter backlash sparked by Laurie Penny’s recent article on short hair, critics pointed out the way in which mainstream conversations about feminism usually proceed from the standpoint of a middle-class white woman. The temptation then is to conflate the experiences of black and white women - in this instance in their relationship to their hair - and not acknowledge their own very particular position positions itself as universal.

Erykah Badu and Janelle Monáe.

It can feel pretty frustrating that white supremacy has bequeathed a legacy in which, for many black women, simply wearing our hair in its own natural state can become a complex and politicised act. At the same time - despite the connection between said supremacy and the relationship that many black women have to our hair - most white people demonstrate absolutely no idea about the everyday maintenance of Afro hair, let alone its politics.

Allow me to reverse the situation for a moment. Imagine we live in a world that is dominated by Black Africans. Imagine your great great-grandparents were colonised and enslaved by ours. Imagine that while those sorry times have passed, and it's all post-racial bonhomie now, the transmission of wealth and power never really shifted. Both are still largely concentrated in black hands. Imagine we dominate the media and beauty industries. Imagine that in order for the beauty of black women to be truly appreciated there must be an ugly, and inferior other, with whom she is compared. This other is the white woman. Her hair is vastly different to the dominant beauty standard. It is thin, lank, stringy and greasy.

All the successful women in society have full resplendent, Afro hair, even the minority white ones.

Their hair is beautiful, it is huge, it makes them taller.

It’s almost as though the Gods, looking favourably upon this chosen race, anointed each and every one of them with a little piece of the heavens - in the form of the cloud of hair- that has been placed lovingly upon their adorable heads. But, in this counter narrative, white people have a long-standing tradition of innovation and experimentation with hair (of course, we black people are largely unaware of it, but it exists) and some of them invest that expertise and knowledge into making their hair look like the hair of the good, the pretty, the successful. In fact when we black women cut off our gorgeous tightly coiled kinks, white women sometimes weave the hair on to their own heads.

Beyoncé.

And after this is done the women with the naturally Afro hair might exhibit surprise that underneath all that gorgeous hair that is just like theirs, there lies a lie.

“Why would they do this?” they might ask. You mean this isn’t really your real hair? “Can I touch it?”

OK, you see where I’m going. Did you bristle a little at hearing your hair described as essentially ugly and bad? Did it seem as though I was being needlessly insulting to make my point?

That was not my intention. It was more a little exercise walking in my shoes. Because, you see, my hair is routinely described in pejoratives. 

Frizzy. Coarse. A problem to be managed. Until the rather wonderful natural hair movement, facilitated in many ways by social networking, this message has been pretty much communicated to me at all times from all angles.

How did you feel when white hair was routinely described as lank and greasy? But sometimes my hair is described as lank and greasy, I hear you cry.

Sometimes is the key word here. It’s also just as common to hear white hair described in highly complimentary language. Think about it; long, silky, shiny, glossy. Don’t even get me started on blonde hair, with all its adjacent connotations of goodness and beauty.

Where are the common phrases used to describe idealised tightly coiled Afro hair? Certainly none come to mind with the ease of the words used to conjure images of idealised Caucasian hair. If there is a beauty standard I should aspire to it is the same as yours apparently; silky and glossy. The expectation is that my own hair must be hidden or transformed in some dramatic way.

About three years ago, I finally quit the whole ‘relaxing’ jive, and stopped straightening my hair. When I was transitioning, I let a white friend feel the new growth. I was excited, as I hadn’t properly felt my own texture in over a decade. However, her response - “Oh my God, it feels like pubes” - brought me slap-bang back to being an eight year old who used to cry themselves to sleep because they were so ugly, and who prayed every night to wake up and have ‘normal’ hair like white people.

Well, those tears were a long time ago. That little girl is now a grown woman who loves her hair (incidentally she has great hair, she always did!) But the journey that led me to the relationship I have with my hair today is likely different to yours. So I urge you to remember, your experience is not the universal benchmark. Such is the ubiquity of whiteness that is this might be easy to forget. Not to worry; we’re here, there’s lots of us, and we’re going to remind you.

Emma Dabiri is an academic and blogger. She tweets: @thediasporadiva

Solange Knowles. Photo: Getty
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Forget planning for no deal. The government isn't really planning for Brexit at all

The British government is simply not in a position to handle life after the EU.

No deal is better than a bad deal? That phrase has essentially vanished from Theresa May’s lips since the loss of her parliamentary majority in June, but it lives on in the minds of her boosters in the commentariat and the most committed parts of the Brexit press. In fact, they have a new meme: criticising the civil service and ministers who backed a Remain vote for “not preparing” for a no deal Brexit.

Leaving without a deal would mean, among other things, dropping out of the Open Skies agreement which allows British aeroplanes to fly to the United States and European Union. It would lead very quickly to food shortages and also mean that radioactive isotopes, used among other things for cancer treatment, wouldn’t be able to cross into the UK anymore. “Planning for no deal” actually means “making a deal”.  (Where the Brexit elite may have a point is that the consequences of no deal are sufficiently disruptive on both sides that the British government shouldn’t  worry too much about the two-year time frame set out in Article 50, as both sides have too big an incentive to always agree to extra time. I don’t think this is likely for political reasons but there is a good economic case for it.)

For the most part, you can’t really plan for no deal. There are however some things the government could prepare for. They could, for instance, start hiring additional staff for customs checks and investing in a bigger IT system to be able to handle the increased volume of work that would need to take place at the British border. It would need to begin issuing compulsory purchases to build new customs posts at ports, particularly along the 300-mile stretch of the Irish border – where Northern Ireland, outside the European Union, would immediately have a hard border with the Republic of Ireland, which would remain inside the bloc. But as Newsnight’s Christopher Cook details, the government is doing none of these things.

Now, in a way, you might say that this is a good decision on the government’s part. Frankly, these measures would only be about as useful as doing your seatbelt up before driving off the Grand Canyon. Buying up land and properties along the Irish border has the potential to cause political headaches that neither the British nor Irish governments need. However, as Cook notes, much of the government’s negotiating strategy seems to be based around convincing the EU27 that the United Kingdom might actually walk away without a deal, so not making even these inadequate plans makes a mockery of their own strategy. 

But the frothing about preparing for “no deal” ignores a far bigger problem: the government isn’t really preparing for any deal, and certainly not the one envisaged in May’s Lancaster House speech, where she set out the terms of Britain’s Brexit negotiations, or in her letter to the EU27 triggering Article 50. Just to reiterate: the government’s proposal is that the United Kingdom will leave both the single market and the customs union. Its regulations will no longer be set or enforced by the European Court of Justice or related bodies.

That means that, when Britain leaves the EU, it will need, at a minimum: to beef up the number of staff, the quality of its computer systems and the amount of physical space given over to customs checks and other assorted border work. It will need to hire its own food and standards inspectors to travel the globe checking the quality of products exported to the United Kingdom. It will need to increase the size of its own regulatory bodies.

The Foreign Office is doing some good and important work on preparing Britain’s re-entry into the World Trade Organisation as a nation with its own set of tariffs. But across the government, the level of preparation is simply not where it should be.

And all that’s assuming that May gets exactly what she wants. It’s not that the government isn’t preparing for no deal, or isn’t preparing for a bad deal. It can’t even be said to be preparing for what it believes is a great deal. 

Stephen Bush is special correspondent at the New Statesman. His daily briefing, Morning Call, provides a quick and essential guide to domestic and global politics.