Black Women Cheer Halle Berry for Saying 'No' to Straightening Daughter’s Hair
Photo: Corbis
As a black woman, it seems like every time I leave the house, my hair becomes public domain. It doesn’t matter whether I’ve worn my hair in curls or blown it straight; there’s someone who wants to have a conversation about my hairstyle. Can’t a girl just get a cup of coffee?
This sideshow fascination with our hair texture is part of the trials and tribulations of being a black woman in this country. There’s a lot of consternation in our strands, and we face it on a daily basis. This week it was reported that Halle Berry and her ex, Gabriel Aubry, returned to court when Aubry decided to straighten and highlight their daughter’s naturally curly hair. Berry rightfully protested that Aubry was trying to make their mixed race child look more Caucasian. The judge “is allowing Nahla’s hair to grow back naturally” and neither parent is allowed to manipulate her appearance further. Sadly, the fight over what we should look like in this world starts early for women of color.
I grew up in West Virginia with natural hair that intimidated my Caucasian friends who told me I’d be prettier with straight hair. And then there was the unfortunate seventh grade incident in which a young Caucasian boy stuck a pencil in my styled hair on Picture Day, announcing, “Look it sticks! Freak!” to the laughter of the whole class. That’s when I started to relax my hair. This spring, after three decades of suffering through this arduous process, I decided there must be a better way. Something that made me feel proud of my heritage.
The process to embrace natural texture is both emotional and challenging. Suddenly, I had no idea how to style my hair. There I was again, staring at my wounded childhood face surrounded by soft kinky waves. Many tears have been shed over the past nine months as I grew it out. Last week, when the last pieces of relaxed hair were snipped away, I wept. I was free.
Like most black women, I’ve understood that European hair texture is treasured, and have gone to extraordinary lengths to achieve it so that I could blend in. But like many black women I’m pushing back. But now it seems the more these beauty standards are challenged, the more we’ve invited scrutiny. It now feels like everyone from my Starbucks barista to my perky co-worker feels like they can ask questions and even try to touch my hair. I’ll never forget a Caucasian colleague asking me during my growth process, “Do you think you look more black with your hair like that?”
Hollywood is abound with different hairstyle choices for black women. For every Solange and Lupita N’yongo, there’s Beyonce with extensions one day or fringed bangs the next. Kerry Washington going from a blowout to giant curls on the season premiere of Scandal almost broke Twitter.
If you’ve never had to change your hair to survive, it can seem strange, but those of us who are exploring freedom after years of having society dictate our beauty, we’re happy. I wish others would just accept our choices as we’ve have and move on. Not everything is up for discussion.
