Our Crowns
Corn Rows
Our Crowns
Swim class was the first bell class at the local high school many of my cousins attended in the late 1960’s early 1970’s.
Most of them wore a press and curl. A ritual on Saturday, hair was washed and dried then pressed and curled with a hot comb. Later before bed, the hair was rolled on pink sponge rollers. This process took hours.
Some girls were able to line the back rim of their swim caps with a feminine care item to keep their hair from getting wet. For others, the time and effort put into creating this hair style was destroyed in a 45-minute swim class. With no time after the class to really style the hair back to its original state, these girls finished their day with a less than attractive hair style. I wonder if anyone in authority considered making swim class the last bell? It seems insensitive and harmful to a young black girl’s self-esteem.
For many black women and girls, our hairstyles are a way we express ourselves and our individual beauty.
Throughout history, our natural hair has been talked about and looked down upon. With this historical baggage, many of us still struggle with how to wear our hair for work, church, and other occasions.
I recently shared a post on my Facebook page with pictures of the top and back of my head which reflected my hair loss from CCC Alopecia. A diagnosis given before a biopsy, my dermatologist suggested the years I spent chemically treating my hair damaged the hair follicle and kept it from growing.
This social media post made me consider the hair history of black American women; a perspective I was very familiar with.
Cornrows and bantu knots go back 3000 years. Deeply rooted in African origins, hair styles and dress were connected to social status and wealth. I have read that rice and okra seeds were transported from Africa to America in cornrows on the heads of Africans. In the antebellum south, enslaved African women were made to wear hair covering that would not distract or take attention from their white counterparts.
Throughout the years, as the mainstream American culture looked down on natural black hair, more black women straightened their hair. Using a hot comb or chemicals to get the look of straight hair was a standard of beauty, in and out of the black community. While we were being dismissed for our natural hair styles, mainstream culture picked it up and somehow, it became cool for anyone, but black women, to wear braids.
I firmly believe whatever hairstyle makes you feel confident is what you should wear; that goes for any woman of any race. But I can’t deny that seeing stars like the Kardashian family sport cornrows and give credit to Bo Derek, makes me shake my head.
Although we’ve seen a celebration of many natural hair styles recently (I love it!), discrimination still exists. The Crown Act: Creating a Respectful and Open World for Natural Hair, aims to eliminate hair discrimination in the workplace. Click here for more information. The law has already passed in over ten states.
The average non-black woman can’t understand being a young black girl with these hair challenges feels like. I do not write this to shake my finger at anyone. I write this blog to shed light on what many may not know. Click on the links below to read articles and check out the black woman’s hair challenges.
