In a society that views curly hair as something that needs to be set straight, keeping your curls is not just a political act, it’s a call to a revolution. Here’s a hair-raising tale of change, emigration, and liberation, at long-last, from the tyranny of lock-shaming
As a new mom, I remember thinking that I could either do my hair or brush my teeth and wash my face. And not because I had one of those 10-step Korean skincare regimens that leave time for little else.
No – I’m talking regular two-minute tooth brushing and swiping a damp cloth across my face. Partly because I hadn’t yet figured out how to balance my basic hygiene needs and my child’s need for my attention (11 years and another kid later and I’m still trying to figure this out). And partly because it just took so damn long to ‘do’ my hair.
Growing up as a curly-haired girl, taming my hair into something ‘presentable’ formed a major part of my daily routine. And my identity.
For some reason — colonisation, Eurocentric beauty ideals, the patriarchy, take your pick — society views curly hair as something to be fixed. Changed. Straightened.
My hair and its ‘acceptability’ became such a major part of how I viewed myself that the state of my hair could tell you a lot about what I was going through in my life. Ever caught me sporting a (probably wet) ponytail or bun? Chances are that I was working through a depressive episode and hadn’t had much sleep.
I undoubtedly woke up late for the school run, only to shove some cereal into my kids’ faces before rushing out of the house in a stressed out crazy woman panic.
If you’ve ever spotted me with ‘perfect’ straightened hair I hope you appreciated it, because that it took a lot of effort. Straightening my hair took between 1 and 2 hours, which meant I had to wait for the kids to get to sleep and stay up late to do it. At least 3 times a week. So I definitely woke up late. And the kids usually had to eat their breakfast in the car, meaning I spent most of my days driving around with half-eaten bowls of Corn Flakes in the boot.
But why would I do this to myself? Could vanity alone get me to sacrifice my time, energy, and money (have you seen the price of a GHD or Brazilian/Japanese/Keratin/Current Pseudoscience treatment?)
The short answer is a resounding “hell no”. The fact is that hair – particularly curly or ethnic hair that sits at the intersection of race and gender – has always been politicised. (Just a note, I hate the term ethnic hair. What is it even supposed to mean? We’re talking about hair. That belongs to people. And all people have ethnicity. So surely all hair is ethnic hair?)
We curly girls have grown up being told that our hair is messy, unsightly, unprofessional. I’ve had employers sit me down to tell me that I needed to ensure that my hair looked neater for client meetings.
So I joined the ranks of women the world over, who have been waging war against their hair’s natural state for generations. Relaxers, straighteners, reverse perms – whatever you want to call these chemical treatments from hell – are a multi-billion dollar industry.
So are the various straightening heat tools that fry our hair and sit in curly-haired women’s cupboards across the country. Thankfully, the revolution has arrived. With websites, online communities and YouTube channels to prove it. Whether your hair is curly or wavy, there’s a space for you. There’s even a handbook.
So, what led me to join the curly girl movement? In the middle of 2018 my husband and I sold most of our earthly possessions, packed up our kids, and moved to the Netherlands. It was a decision fraught with nerves, excitement, and a great deal of introspection.
But how did emigrating affect my hair choices? Surely that’s a tenuous connection at best. Not so. Making the choice to leave everything and everyone you know and hold dear, in favour of new adventures and opportunities, forces one to do some intense self-examination.
In that process, I realised I was absolutely not interested in allowing my hair or sense of self to be consumed by patriarchal Western beauty ideals. It was time to take back my power, money, and hair. Time to go natural. I had the perfect opportunity to reinvent myself — and my hair — nd I was taking it.
Because I didn’t have enough new experiences and stresses to worry about, a few weeks before we lifted off for the land of stroopwaffels and constant rain, I started the Curly Girl Method. This entailed giving my hair a final wash with a shampoo full of much maligned sulphates, to get rid of the many silicones that had built up on my tresses over the years.
Once done, I then had to eschew every haircare product I had ever bought and begin the hunt for products free of sulphates, drying alcohols, bleaches, and non-water soluble silicones. Along the way I would give up shampoo altogether, and quit brushing or combing my hair with anything other than my fingers.
Heat styling of any sort is no longer a part of my repertoire. I’ve added a whole new lexicon to my vocabulary. Co-wash, squish to condish, scrunch out the crunch — these are terms I not only understand, but apply to my everyday life. Well, not every day because I now only ‘wash’ my hair every five days or so.
I spend way less time, energy and money on my hair. My products last longer because they only get used once or twice a week. When I do use them, I spend a bit of time detangling in the shower (the hardest part), but then I slide in a bit more product and leave the house. No hassle. No fuss. No two-hour straightening sessions.
And my hair has never looked or felt better than it does right now. More importantly, the emotional work of leaning to accept my curls has led me to be more accepting of myself in all areas.
I have never felt better or prettier than I do right now, embracing and loving my curls. Beautiful, bouncy, sometimes messy, and always a reflection of who I am meant to be. Me, naturally.
*Kim Norwood-Young is a curly girl and proud of it. And no, her hair isn’t greasy since abandoning shampoo.
Leave a Reply