Alright folks… here is the piece I wrote for Coco & Creme today.

In college I didn’t know what my real hair looked like. That’s because it spent 90% of the time in braid extensions. I kept them in for months at a time and had developed a strategic timetable for when to take them down.

It had to be a weekend — preferably a long weekend. Beauty shops were closed on Sundays, so I’d have to start taking the braids down on Friday, right after class was up, and work through the night in time for a Saturday appointment, which typically lasted 6 to 7 hours. This left little to no window of time when my college classmates could see my hair. I sent my roommates to the dining hall with my meal card for food, and hungrily at the apples, yogurt and granola they returned with as I dexterously pulled out my braids, flecks of dirt and dandruff flying everywhere.

By my junior year I had this routine down pat, but during my freshman year I was still getting adjusted. One Fall weekend I miscalculated my “braid takedown time” and found myself on a Sunday — with no beauty shop in town open and Monday classes around the corner, panicking in my dorm room with my dirty 4-inch afro.

My friends Liz and Kristin, both black, huddled around my bewildered head. They washed the fro — which seemed to make it even more intractable. Then, taking ginger stabs with the comb, tried to style it into submission. It was too short for a pony. Too wild-looking with a headband. Too unkempt for a shake-and-go.

Finally Kristin ran her hands through the angry knots on my head “Ceeelieee,” she called out in her best Oprah-Winfrey-as-Harpo voice, then fell back onto the dorm bed laughing hysterically.

I didn’t think it was funny.

Kristin spent the next few days apologizing. But that incident stayed with me.

Recently, one of my blog readers sent an email.

“It’s been fun/frustrating figuring out my hair texture and what it likes. The problem is my mother has berated me everyday since (which has only been for 2-3 weeks). Yesterday she said the following “What’s wrong with your hair?” “You look like a slave””

Slave, field hand, buckwheat, Celie. It sounds so familiar. Many people still associate natural hair with these things. They hear the word “natural” and their minds trail off to black-and-white photos of slave/sharecropping families, standing smilelessly against barn walls, hair more knotted than their tired brows.

Instinctually, this association makes me angry. But I also understand why people make it.

As a disclaimer, I fully understand that there are people who — no matter how gorgeous the head of hair — will affiliate being natural with poverty and blight.

But it is also true that we as natural women aren’t quite there yet. Of course there are plenty success stories of women who go natural and proceed to grow out luscious, full heads of kinky, coily, curly hair.

But there are also plenty stories of natural women whose hair is dry, won’t grow, won’t even budge. Like natural hair of the early 1900s — a time of poor scalp health and virtually no education.

Did my poorly-cared-for freshman fro deserve to be derided? No. But it didn’t deserve to be applauded either. As black women we won’t be able to break the association of natural hair with “slave hair” until we learn how to manage our scalps and our strands, and release the bondage of stagnant, frustrating hair.

This was my first time writing a ‘personal reflection on natural hair’ type piece… so please be easy on me I’d love to hear your thoughts…

Tweet This Post

In an OpEd in Essence Magazine Jill says;

My new friend is handsome, African-American, intelligent and seemingly wealthy. He is an athlete, loves his momma, and is happily married to a White woman. I admit when I saw his wedding ring, I privately hoped. But something in me just knew he didn’t marry a sister. Although my guess hit the mark, when my friend told me his wife was indeed Caucasian, I felt my spirit…wince. I didn’t immediately understand it. My face read happy for you. My body showed no reaction to my inner pinch, but the sting was there, quiet like a mosquito under a summer dress.



Was I jealous? Did the reality of his relationship somehow diminish his soul’s credibility? The answer is not simple. One could easily dispel the wince as racist or separatist, but that’s not how I was brought up. I was reared in a Jehovah’s Witness household. I was taught that every man should be judged by his deeds and not his color, and I firmly stand where my grandmother left me. African people worldwide are known to be welcoming and open-minded. We share our culture sometimes to our own peril and most of us love the very notion of love. My position is that for women of color, this very common “wince” has solely to do with the African story in America.



When our people were enslaved, “Massa” placed his Caucasian woman on a pedestal. She was spoiled, revered and angelic, while the Black slave woman was overworked, beaten, raped and farmed out like cattle to be mated. She was nothing and neither was our Black man. As slavery died for the greater good of America, and the movement for equality sputtered to life, the White woman was on the cover of every American magazine. She was the dazzling jewel on every movie screen, the glory of every commercial and television show. She was unequivocally the standard of beauty for this country, firmly unattainable to anyone not of her race. We daughters of the dust were seen as ugly, nappy mammies, good for day work and unwanted children, while our men were thought to be thieving, sex-hungry animals with limited brain capacity.



We reflect on this awful past and recall that if a Black man even looked at a White woman, he would have been lynched, beaten, jailed or shot to death. In the midst of this, Black women and Black men struggled together, mourned together, starved together, braved the hoses and vicious police dogs and died untimely on southern back roads together. These harsh truths lead to what we really feel when we see a seemingly together brother with a Caucasian woman and their children. That feeling is betrayed. While we exert efforts to raise our sons and daughters to appreciate themselves and respect others, most of us end up doing this important work alone, with no fathers or like representatives, limited financial support (often court-enforced) and, on top of everything else, an empty bed. It’s frustrating and it hurts!



Our minds do understand that people of all races find genuine love in many places. We dig that the world is full of amazing options. But underneath, there is a bite, no matter the ointment, that has yet to stop burning. Some may find these thoughts to be hurtful. That is not my intent. I’m just sayin’.

Now I love Jill Scott as much as anyone, but I found her statements sorely misguided. Although I can understand theoretically where she is coming from, on a visceral level I just can’t relate. My focus is just… elsewhere.

There’s something I’ve noticed about the natural community: A LOT of us are married, engaged and/or dating! I have read/heard so many adorable love stories on blogs, YouTube channels and Fotki pages — all featuring natural black women as the central character. Some of my favorites are Margaret, Sunshine, Turnergirl, Roshini and MrsBNL.

There has been debate over whether the percentage of married naturals is higher than the percentage of married black women overall. I don’t know the answer to that (though I’d place my bets on married naturals) but I have found that generally speaking natural women are so preoccupied with their own happiness and progress that they don’t care about what some triflin/uninterested black man — or any color man for that matter — is doing.

And yes, that is a gross generalization. But I feel that the aura of self-acceptance and love that pervades the natural community tends to float into other areas of life. There’s a vulnerability among naturals that I find refreshing — an acknowledgment of the key role that love plays in life. How many times have I heard natural women say things like ‘my boyfriend was there for my big chop’ or ‘I couldn’t have gone natural without my husband’s support’.

And I guess that’s why Jill Scott’s statements rung hollow to me. Being in a community where uninterested black men have no place, where women find love with men of all races, where I see multiple examples of supportive, patient, natural-hair loving black men… it just makes it hard for me to hang onto bitterness regarding someone else’s romantic decision.

And this is not to trivialize the issue of singleness among black women. All I’m saying is that we can spend our energy trying to plead with and convince those who don’t love us. Or we can spend our energy and time investing in those who do. And, from where I’m standing, there are definitely more than we think.

Just my two pence.

Tweet This Post

If you ask my parents they would say I was a perfect child, a model child, because I did everything that was asked of me. I got great grades, I was a great athlete, I was a student leader, the police were never called, there were never any major scandals on our cul-de-sac…but what was going on inside, and what I was dealing with individually and as a group of girls, was absolute turmoil. Emotionally, physically, spiritually, we were forced to deal with a lot of adult issues and situations as a collective, and often times we wouldn’t turn to each other, we would internalize everything, we didn’t have an outlet. So, I was going through MAJOR low self esteem. I was a black girl in an all white school in an all white community, never feeling good enough, but always being encouraged by my parents to be bigger, badder and better. And perfect is the standard. That’s an immense amount of pressure to put on a child. Then I’m starting to like guys. And in my own town, with me being THE black girl, the white guys weren’t really checking for me in that way. When I got to go to basketball camp and I got be around black boys, I was like cool…until I got dumped…for a light skinned girl. And then that whole thing started. My hair isn’t straight enough. My nose isn’t pointy enough. My lips are too big. My boobs aren’t big enough. And you start going through all of that. And I realize as I’ve gotten older a lot of issues that I was dealing with at 15, I am still dealing with today.

My niece is a teenager and is dealing with her skin, she’s dealing with her hair, she’s dealing with what clothes to wear, the music she listens to…I would love to say a lot has changed, but I certainly believe that there is a lot more work to do be done.

In the business that I am in now, it is incredibly tough, and to be honest, sometimes it is is hard to keep my head above the water, sometimes I feel like I’m drowning. I’m just really fortunate to have people, friends I can call on at any hour. You don’t get a job, and you immediately want to blame it on, if my hair was different, or maybe if my nose…or they just want to go with light-skin girls, and you start to doubt yourself, and the self-doubts and the low self-esteem starts to creep in. When that happens I know that I can call on a good friend. One day, he made me do this exercise, which I thought was ridiculous at first, standing in the mirror and finding things about my face that I loved, whether it be the freckles or my eyebrows, and just concentrating on all of the positive things…and I thought it was a load…and then, I found myself doing it one day and I found myself feeling a little bit better. So I texted him and I was like, “it worked.” But what I found is that it’s great that I have a group of girlfriends that I can rely on, but it can’t just be this one-way street of women validating women. There’s something about a platonic, non-sexual male voice in your life, ideally your parent, your father, relative or brother, which should be a steady, consistent source of nothing but positivity. And having this friend inspired me to reach out to my own dad and tell him that he’s got to tell my niece everyday that she is a beautiful princess. I can tell her that she has a lovely jump shot, or she does well in school, but what she’s gonna start looking out for from other people, from other men, is to tell her how beautiful she is, and she’s gonna find validation in all the wrong ways. So, it is important to be that mentor, to be that guiding figure in her life, so she doesn’t accept validation from the wrong places.

We don’t generally share these stories. These are things that you generally take to the grave with you. You don’t want people to know that I hate my nose. You don’t want people to know that I have this fear a light-skinned woman walking into the room, ya’ know, you don’t want people to know that, so you take that your grave. So, I write this to let you all know that I’m still in it, but it’s getting better and there is light at the end of the tunnel. And when a young person has a mentor, it only makes the light seem that much more real.
-Gabrielle
***
Wow, Gabrielle went really raw with this and I respect her for speaking honestly. What do you guys think?

Tweet This Post

Many of you wanted me to go into further detail on the ways in which I deal with my hair. So I’ll continue the list I started last week.

Here goes…

5. When the going gets tough, the tough get styling.

What you’re looking at here is my very first cornrow. I did it about a week ago.

I was never the ‘hair chick’ growing up. Never the one with the grease and the rattail comb in her pocket, doing criss-cross cornrows at the back of the classroom. As a matter of fact, up until age 14 (YES! 14!) My mother did my hair (which was natural and unstraightened at the time.) At age 15 I took over, and things really went downhill. All I really knew to do was twist (I could plait/braid too… but only very crooked.) So I would put my hair into these teeny twists and keep them in for weeks (can you say dirt accumulation??) I remember going to a hairdresser and her being horrified at how I was treating my hair. Needless to say, my braid extension/flat iron addiction began just two years later, during my freshman year in college.

In going natural I have had to accept that NOONE IS RESPONSIBLE FOR MY HAIR BUT ME. I can’t put my hair off on a stylist, or a relaxer, or braid extensions, or weave. I have to do it. I have to wake up every morning and do it.

I knew that, for a texture like mine, knowing how to cornrow would be helpful. Especially since a cornrow is basically a mini french braid.

One Saturday I sat myself down and searched YouTube videos on cornrowing. I found this one, done by the Hairoine, to be particularly helpful. I tried, and I failed EPICALLY.

But I kept trying, and it slowly got better and better. It’s not perfect BY ANY MEANS. My cornrowing still needs practice, but it’s presentable enough that I can do larger ones and wear them out in public. And now I have a new regimen tool.

6. French braids are great for my texture.

This isn’t my best set… but for example’s sake…

This is another style I learned to do only recently. This style is great for my texture for many reasons a.) It’s protective without being heavy on manipulation (my hair doesn’t tolerate high-manipulation protective styles) and b.) It stretches the hair (I have to keep my hair stretched to avoid knotting at the ends.)

I’ve rocked this style alot. Sometimes I let the braids hang down, other days I pin them up. This has been an awesome break from bunning my hair — which was getting boring, and was also stressing my hair because I bunned in the same place.

That’s it for this week. What about you guys? What do you do to deal with your texture?

Tweet This Post

Tired after an hour long battle with my hair

I’ve been doing the BGLH blog for about a year and a half now. And in that time it has grown into way more than I thought it would. When I started this I was clueless about my hair.

Now, several months and hundreds of BGLH interviews later, I am still kinda clueless. And I’ll tell you why, but first let me share something I’ve noticed:

Most of the women I profile as style icons and RSRs had strong, long and healthy hair pre-natural and a fairly smooth transition into the natural world. And I’m grateful for these women. Their gorgeous photos are an inspiration to me, and many others who follow this site.

But there’s another category of naturals — one that I fall into. Those whose hair was frustrating/delicate/difficult when it was chemically or heat straightened and is frustrating/delicate/difficult now.

I sometimes liken my hair to a baby crying at 2 a.m. You’ve fed it, clothed it, bathed it and still it won’t be quiet.

“What do you want? What do you need?” I have pleaded to my hair many a night as I stared forlornly into the bathroom mirror.

And don’t get me wrong, I love being natural (hence the upbeat, daily updated blog.) And I don’t ever miss my flat-iron addiction, but my texture is a lethal combination of regimen busters: It’s extremely coily (read: prone to breakage), fine and delicate (read: prone to breakage) and knots easily (read: prone to breakage).

And copying the regimens of others has failed me MANY a time. I have had to go back to basics and really sit and *listen* to my beloved mass of kinks. And with listening I have come to some pretty crazy conclusions about my hair, that actually go against some common natural haircare knowledge.

So, here goes…

1. A lot of moisture is not necessarily good for it. Yes, do your collective gasp of horror, but I have to be careful how and when I apply water/water-based products because, with coils like mine, mucho moisture is quickly followed by mucho knots. No more drenching my hair with spritzes every morning. No more wash and go’s.

I wash and deep condition my hair every two weeks. Aside from that, I let it tell me what kind of moisture it wants. If I need a refresher, I wet my palms with water, run them thoroughly through my hair and then seal it in with castor oil or a butter — just enough moisture to quench thirst, but not enough to bring da knots (get it? bring da knots… bring da noize?)

2. Heat is not necessarily bad for it. With excessive coiliness comes the dreaded problem of knotted ends. And yes, keeping ends from knotting is a common issue among naturals of all textures, but we’re talking kinky hair here. We’re talking coils that shrink at varying degrees to create a jungle with tree-tops of varying height. Yeh, try combing that.

I have incorporated light, low-heat blow drying into my regimen to help keep my ends stretched, which prevents knotting and breakage. I only do this about once a month, and I have to admit, I felt like I was cheating on my blog the first time I tried. But my hair was so happy the next day.

3. My hair actually HATES, HATES protective styling. BGLH enthusiasts will recall several months back, when we had the huge protective styling debate. You remember that right? Being a fairly new natural, I assumed that protective styling was something that everyone should always do. Including me. And for several months I tirelessly put in dozens of twists every few weeks.

Until a bout of sickness left me unable to style my hair for a few weeks and I was forced to leave it alone — and it grew faster than I’d ever seen.

Now, please don’t get me wrong; protective styling is great depending on the level of manipulation your hair can deal with. But my hair doesn’t like to be kept in twists or braids for weeks. And seeing my whole issue with moisture and knotting, I had the tough choice of having stinky protective styles, or washing them and dealing with the wrath of my head-jungle.

4. My regimen should be dictated in part by my choice of styles. I always thought that it was the other way around, but styling options are intimately tied to hair texture. I don’t rock twists or braids, but I do rock free-form styles which require my hair to be stretched and dry. So my basic regimen needs to be a ‘stretch-dry’ regimen.

So there you have it. I will continue this next week with a few things I’ve learned about being thankful for my hair, despite the regimen and styling challenges. When you guys comment I would love to hear about the unique things you learned about your hair during the natural process.

~Leila

Tweet This Post

So we’re about two weeks into the newly designed site (PSA: if you’re still following the old site please switch over!!!) and while Shari was working on it, we were inundated with the phrase “Long Hair”. It came up everywhere… when we were figuring out the logo, the header, the twitter page, the email address. It constantly came up.

I didn’t really think about it much at the old blog. But applying it to an official logo and header made me feel like, “Whoa. I am officially taking a stance on long hair.” Which is interesting for a few reasons, a.) I don’t have long hair… yet; and b.) I profile a lot of chicks who don’t have long hair.

When I first explained my blog to my dad, who is Haitian, he seemed slightly perturbed at the emphasis, albeit moderate, on long hair. “That’s a western thing,” he told me. Cue the INTENSE soul searching…

Was I just trying to carry on a Western ideal wrapped in brown packaging? Was I making people feel insecure about their length of hair?

After several months of reflection, I still love this blog’s title. Because while “Black Girl with Short Hair” and “Black Girl with Medium Hair” are concepts that we are all familiar with. “Black Girl with Long natural Hair” is still an anomaly. Many people noticed that in his movie, Good Hair, Chris Rock seemed to insinuate that the only alternative to relaxers and weaves was SHORT natural hair. And that is a common sentiment.

We all know that short can be chic, beautiful, and fly. But we don’t know that we have a CHOICE. Many of us have never experienced versatility in our hair length. We don’t know the products to use (or not use) the regimen to try or the styles to do to get to various lengths.

One BGLH follower once questioned the blog’s title, insinuating that it revealed a lack of self-esteem or acceptance (cue Leila’s second wave of soul searching.) But I have had short hair all my life. I’ve flat ironed, put in extensions, colored it, shaved it all off, rocked a short afro.

And now I want something new.

I’ll end by quoting one of my favorite BGLH alum, Chicoro, a natural hair author (check her out here) that I interviewed back in September 2008 (Click here for the full interview.)

“On the surface, focusing on hair seems like a very superficial endeavor. It really is not. So often, when women learn to be successful in their hair care, it creates a feeling of empowerment. You have set a goal and accomplished it. That same process you used to reach your hair goal can now be transferred to generate success in other areas of your life. Success in one area of your life begets success in other areas of your life. It can be a never ending cycle of success. You begin to feel empowered to improve how you eat, your body, your relationships, your career, your finances and etc. In my mind, the book is not just about hair, it’s about knowing yourself, identifying what’s important to you and how to achieve the great things in life which we are all capable of doing. It sounds rather ambitious for a hair care book, but hair, or the lack of it, always makes a powerful impactful statement.”

***
BGLH now has a forum! Check it out HERE.

Tweet This Post

And why should I?
If we’re trying to get to a ‘post-racial world’, why should I maintain a fierce commitment to my “race”, which some might call zenophobic?

This is a question I’ve been struggling with lately as more and more information comes to light about the inequalities in the beauty industry. Chris Rock uncovered it at length in his film “Good Hair”. Basically, the black hair care industry is not owned by blacks. It’s owned by whites and Asians.

The sell the products. They manufacture the products. The own the stores.

So the question is: Should I care?
I would like to feel that I am autonomous, that I make my decisions out of reason — not loyalty to race.
But then again, isn’t it reasonable for blacks to take back the beauty industry? If only to rid it of its inherently exploitive nature? But then, even if we ‘take back’ the beauty industry, who’s to say that it will cease to be exploitive?

So what do we do? Where do we go? What are your thoughts on this?

***
BGLH now has a forum! Check it out HERE.

Tweet This Post

“Great style icon ! and also I notice that a lot of the featured naturals on this blog are from New York… or just NOT west coast at that. I’m in Riverside, California and I’m thinkin are we too caught up in the LA, Hollywood look over here? I know I chickened out and postponed my plan to wear natural hair because every black girl I know rocks a weave and or relaxer..”

I never really thought about that, but I found it SO interesting! So I went back into the BGLH archives and yes, a good number of our style icons and rock solid regimens are from New York. Most notably our lovely haircare expert; Jenny:

I also noticed that a good number of style icons/RSRs are from Southern states.

This blog is by no means representative of all natural women. But what do you think of this? Are some states more conducive to rocking natural hair than others??? California ladies; do you think the Hollywood culture prevents women from embracing their natural hair? For the rest of you; is your state reppin hard for the natural? Or are there things that make repping natural hair a bit harder in your state?

International ladies, what about the cities in your country?

Thanks Kelly for the thought provoking comment!

Tweet This Post

Sooo for some reason people were getting kinda, how should I say… possessive? defensive? rude? when it came to giving their opinion, which really baffled me. I actually had to reject a few comments… and it wasn’t even a retrospective post!

So I want to know; Why do people get so emotional when it comes to discussing hair products? Why do people get offended if “their product” doesn’t make it to a top 15 list? Like honestly, I really want to know.

I have a theory on this. But I will reserve it until after I’ve heard your thoughts.

Also, I thought it would be helpful to post a close-up of Rachel’s texture so you can get a sense of what she’s testing these products on. (She is so cute, by the way!)

But yeh, I want to hear your two pence on this!!

***update @ 8:02 a.m. … I wrote this in the comment box…

I find that we, in the natural hair community, want to pick and choose when we appreciate diversity. When it’s about profiling different textures of hair, we’re all about it. When it’s talking products, for some reason the fractures begin.

There is no way that everything that works for Rachel will work for the rest of us. But it will work for some of us. And for those who it doesn’t work for, there are plenty opportunities to discuss and compare notes. (It’s called the comment box.)

Even in the little BGLH blogger trio consisting of J, Shari and I, we use TOTALLY different products. I have the kinkiest texture, which rules out many drugstore products for me. I have to stick with natural substances (cassia, castor oil, water, etc.) Meanwhile Shari can experiment wildly on her head. She has a looser texture and stronger hair.

When I heard the feedback on Rachel’s post, I wondered if there was some underlying bitterness that Rachel does have a strong texture that can stand up better to silicones, sulfates, etc.

I find that the looser the texture, the easier it is to use products that were originally made for white/hispanic/asian/loose or straight textured women. While those of us with coarser textures (including myself) have to be more careful.

But I don’t understand why this would cause bitterness, rudeness or anger. Rachel was very clear that her list was a SUBJECTIVE list. She mentioned that at the beginning of almost every post. I think having her on the site is a valuable way to get discussion on products started.

Tweet This Post