If I could return to my childhood and approach the parents of peers who had questions about my hair and why it was unlike theirs, I'd like to believe that it would’ve changed the conversations I now have with their white adult children. Of course, I can’t travel back in time, but maybe I can help the conversation move forward with how I believe white people should approach the topic of black hair when talking to their children.
Hear me out. I’ve gone through beaucoup phases of black hairstyles — from using chemical relaxers to wearing complex braided styles, adding extensions, and donning an afro, to my current distinctive dreadlock-mohawk. During my personal hair journey, I’ve met many curious non-POC (persons of color) who’ve wanted to know more about African American hair but didn’t yet understand the emotional, cultural, and scientific complexities layered into our hair heritage.
The No. 1 rule of hair etiquette
First, let’s discuss the No. 1 rule of hair etiquette every white person should (ideally) understand: Never touch a black person's hair uninvited.
While parents should be encouraging their children to meet, learn, and share with people from diverse backgrounds and cultures, this also means teaching empathy and awareness beyond oneself. Though a person can only truly understand the black experience by living it, parents should try to trade places for a moment. Consider a deep history of people feeling entitled to your physical body, able to touch you without permission, and sometimes meaning you harm. When a stranger — especially a white stranger — invades that precious space to fulfill their personal curiosity, it can be a violating, triggering feeling.
A brief history of African American hair culture
Before they were taken from Africa and surrounded by a polarized society (compared to what they knew), ancestors of today’s black Americans were people of Africa who had evolved within a completely different climate and environment. Our ancestors' hair likely developed as a genetic response to direct conditions of extreme heat and sun. Therefore, hair that was curly and coiled, creating added density, was an advantageous trait to have in order to protect heads from the harsh African sun.
The science of black hair
This is why many black people, including myself, regularly add oil to our hair. Curly hair strands have a hard time accumulating moisture. Because of the spiraled shape of a curly strand of hair, natural oils produced at the scalp don’t slide down as easily to fully saturate a strand. To visualize this, picture shooting down a straight slide, then imagine having to slightly scoot while coming down a spiral slide. The tighter a coiled strand is, the more difficult it is for natural oil to travel from follicle to end, causing curly hair to often be dryer than straighter strands. This is the reason many African Americans add elements to help seal in and retain moisture.
This also means that Afro-American hair shouldn't be washed as frequently as straight hair. Whereas straight hair can quickly get oily, curlier tresses need to build up moisture over time. Overwashing our hair can lead to under-nourished strands that suffer from breakage.
That doesn’t mean that all straight hair is sufficiently moisturized and all curly hair is equally dry. Parents should teach kids that the chemical balance of every person’s hair (and body) is different — no matter who they are. This is a good fundamental lesson on diversity of individuals even within cultures and subcultures.
Today's black hair culture
A conversation about black hair and what it means to African American culture is best had with an actual black person and plenty of time. It’s a loaded subject with stories of oppression and celebration, unbreakable bonds, and revolutionary expression.
On a personal level, the metaphorical crown of an individual black person can be a symbol of pride and identity, as well as a communication tool that signals individuality, status, or even a particular lifestyle.
But there is the possibility that, to an individual African American, their hair may be just that: theirs. Not every black person has the same experience or relationship with hair. Not everyone has access to identical products, information, or necessarily shares in a supportive community, but that doesn’t lessen the value of their crown.
The takeaway on talking about African American hair
Communicate what you don’t know to your children, and set an example by seeking new information when you don’t have the answers. Even after you equip yourself with the facts, be honest about your limited perspective. Black hair is a larger conversation than what I, alone, have space and time to dip into. But, by adding you to the conversation, I hope to have affected the future of how cultural differences are communicated in the US.
