Does Hairfashion Can Influence on a Self Assessment

For decades, women have used their hair to express their social status, heritage, and identity. It is a significant part of who we are and how we express ourselves. A societal group I identify with is women in the African American natural hair community. My journey is fairly new, and I am still learning how to embrace this cultural concept. My greatest hurdle is the feeling of anxiety over wearing my natural hair due to potential discrimination and the evaluation of self-worth.

The term “natural” can be applied to any ethnicity, but it is most commonly used to describe hair in the Black community. Natural hair is the unaltered state of your hair that you are born with. For example, straightening your hair with a flat iron is considered taboo in this community. This means not applying chemical straighteners such as relaxers or texturizers that alter your natural curl pattern. Simply put, the way your hair looks when you come out of the shower is acknowledged as your natural hair. Common hairstyles include dreadlocks, Bantu knots, afros, braids, and cornrows. Alongside the history of black hair come many stigmas about how our hair is viewed and what it means to have natural hair in today’s society. Growing up, I was influenced by Barbie dolls, friends, and the media that didn’t define beauty by the thick coils flowing from my head. The truth is we live in a world that remains ignorant about the beauty of black hair. Many people think their uninformed perception of natural hair is innocent, but in reality, this ignorance comes with a backdrop of racism. Specifically, people, whether knowingly or unknowingly, see natural hair as inherently off-putting, often without understanding why. For instance, a common question I get asked is, “What are you going to do with your hair?” My response is always, “Why does my hair need something done to it?” My journey to natural hair is a sense of empowerment marred with anxiety. I should not have to struggle with self-worth and face discrimination because I choose to wear my hair the way it was intended to look.

Like many women, my hairstyle greatly affects my self-assessment. Fitting in and being accepted is the goal for most, but with natural hair, comfort is also a factor. My kinky curly hair is worn most days slicked up into a ponytail so that I seem presentable to the outside world. On my days off, it is worn free and wild amongst people who understand the culture. In the past, when I’ve tried to wear my hair in its natural state in an institutional setting, my level of anxiety was high. People stared, touched, and bombarded me with countless questions. It was the topic of discussion for the whole day. I hated the unwanted attention and felt uncomfortable and self-conscious. For those who are not part of the community, it is hard to describe the discomfort. I felt naked, like leaving home without my security blanket. For this reason, many women like me feel pressured to add extensions, straighten or modify our hair to fit the norms of an acceptable standard that is placed on Black hair. It’s just as easy to wake up and style my hair as it is for any other hair type. I shouldn’t have to go to extremes to fit into a society that stigmatizes my natural hair. I deserve liberation from an ideal that’s been woven into our history. There is nothing to “fix” or mold. My unique beauty should not come with everyday anticipation of adversity or misfortune.

The pressure of fitting in is explicitly placed on me to protect my status, as if I lack something or have a limitation. Some of the craziest things I’ve heard about natural hair is that it’s dirty, means I must be dirty, that it’s not combed, styled or neat, and that it’s unprofessional. The bias against Black natural hair is so deeply ingrained in our country that the CROWN Act, a law preventing discrimination based on hairstyles or hair texture, had to be passed to make the hair that I was born with a legal right. This act demonstrates the level of bias held toward natural hair, which is equivalent to the bias against race and religion. Therefore, I opt to skillfully smooth my hair back with every hair in place when applying for a loan, seeking a job, or even going to school. I do this so a correlation between my hair and social prestige isn’t associated. My hair doesn’t define the measurement of my knowledge, character, trustworthiness or cleanliness. That means I shouldn’t have to comply with a grooming standard that targets my “blackness” to be muted or dulled down. I expect to be judged by my moral principles, performance, and commitment. This type of discrimination and pressure to conform to ideas of what is acceptable has taught me how to maneuver through a world that subtly implies that I am not allowed to exist in my true form.

The majority of young women, like me, go through stages of enlightenment on the journey to becoming a member of the natural hair community. It is an emotional, apprehensive, and resilient transformation. Some women cut all their hair off to embark on a healthy hair quest. With this decision often comes backlash from friends, family, and strangers. They echo phrases such as, “Why is it hard to maintain?”, “It is nappy.”, “You will never get a man.” Being strong enough to endure sidelong glances and whispers challenges your internal strength, often stirring up anxiety. This is a feeling I wrestle with daily. Embracing my curls and coils is shaping me into the person I aspire to be, inciting change. My transition is far from over, but the first steps I have taken have not only given my aura a glow of increased confidence but have also made me more assured in my decisions. Initially, it unearthed deep-seated roots of insecurity. I grappled with the idea that my hair was a problem, something I had to resist. The transformation began with accepting the person I see when I look in the mirror. It was not the kinks in my hair that I needed to change to feel desirable, but the kinks in my mind. I had to unlearn the self-loathing and hair racism that influenced my childhood. It is a reconstruction of my self-worth. My hair is an extension of me, and nurturing it is a form of self-care.

From years of experience alternating between altered and natural hair, I’ve learned that the more I conformed to society’s concept of “nice hair,” the smoother my journey through life seemed. I was more included, engaged in more conversations, found easier ways around things I didn’t want to do, and felt more desired. With natural hair, I have to exert more effort socially, which significantly impacts my self-assessment. Praise for my afro is scarce outside my race, and I bear that rejection heavily. Even professionally, women with natural hair often seem less favored due to the stigmas attached to their hair. An afro in the workplace is deemed unacceptable. For some, the fight to view natural hair as no less than ordinary and weave through the complex emotions of shame can be paralyzing. My natural hair imbues me with confidence. I should not have to wrestle with self-worth or face discrimination because of my choice to wear my hair naturally.

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