CONTENT WARNING

Please note the essay below contains two counts of explicit language; this is not to offend readers, but rather, to bring readers into the reality of my life in the “developed” society that is America.

PREFACE

My hair texture has been a “problem” since childhood. Whether my hair was in a stretched or unstretched state—and whether I was in America or my homeland—I’ve had to deal with brown-skinned family members who hated my hair, plus numerous beige-skinned persons who made it clear that my “nappy” or hyper-frizzy hair was inferior to their straighter strands. At this stage in my elderly millennial life, I now believe the only beings who have zero issues with my natural hair are G-d and my hairstylist. If you’re a curious intellectual who wants to dive into my hair woes and better understand why hair harassment isn’t about hair, then I invite you to read my essay. Thank you in advance for your reading and reflection time.

1 / Intro

Our hair composition is complex.

Society’s bias against coily hair is not.

My hair does not obey gravity.

It loves to frizz at will.

It becomes poofy when left unattended for 24 hours.

And it grows horizontally (due to the follicle’s flat oval shape), so it has no sex appeal in Hollywood.

In light of this brutal reality, my hair has been policed in America since 1786 A.D.

In 2024 A.D., my hair is regularly regarded as ugly, untamed or unprofessional by many beige-skinned earthlings who supposedly believe straighter strands are superior.

I’ve been fired from a job, harassed by supervisors, profiled by an armed police officer, mocked by peers and rejected as a romantic partner by individuals who’ve concluded that, because G-d and/or my genetic code gave my hair a higher amount of disulfide bonds, I am somehow an inferior being.

Over the decades, I maneuvered social and economic exclusion—executed by so-called progressives and conservatives—by routinely burning my scalp with relaxers; wearing a wig that garnered compliments for its wavy texture; sewing a straight-haired weave onto my plaited hair; sporting braids that slowly thinned my edges; and regularly frying my hair strands at 425 degrees Fahrenheit to attain the perfect silk press in the name of self-hatred.

The humiliation I’ve endured for my natural hair texture—plus my lip shape—from childhood to adulthood ultimately led to my being upset with my Creator. And, I’ve since repented.

To exist in a society where two of the most mundane elements of my human anatomy are relentlessly harassed or assaulted is strange, pathetic and tiring.

Thankfully, I eventually realized that these recurring incivilities aren’t 100 percent about my hair, or my lips.

2 / Pattern: Hair Texture Harassment

In 2018 A.D., I worked with a supervisor who genetically identified as Chinese-Cuban and prided herself on being a progressive Catholic.

This “progressive” fifty-something supervisor—who presented as a beige-skinned, straight blonde-haired, double-lidded and blue-eyed woman—referred to my lips as “cow lips” and my hair as “naps.” She also used the word “nigger” in an attempt to antagonize me.

My experience with this supervisor wasn’t unusual in the region of America I lived in, and was typical of the industry I worked in for years.

I suspect that if this supervisor had been given ample control to dictate how all darker-skinned and “nappy-haired” women should look in the workplace, then she’d mandate that they straighten their hair to avoid being fired.

Interestingly, such a mandate wouldn’t have been drafted because this supervisor actually believed there’s something inherently wicked about non-straight hair.

Rather, this mandate would be executed by a supervisor who is addicted to exercising an unusually high level of control over a human being, because watching their victim’s reaction to harm would offer them a dopamine hit at no cost.

(We see this addictive, unhealthy and malicious behavior in the narrative of European enslavers whose profiles suggest they exhibited narcissistic, sociopathic or psychopathic personalities.)

On the surface, my supervisor was clearly a woman who felt that humiliating a thirty-something darker-skinned woman in the workplace for her G-d-given hair texture was completely normal, if not culturally obligatory.

However, as someone who has engaged in conversations with such individuals—be they family members or strangers—I saw something else at play…