Don't Judge Us By How We Wear Our Hair

(My Original Blog Post: http://www.coilyhair.com/dont-judge-us-by-how-we-wear-our-hair/)
February 5, 2009

BY MARY MITCHELL Sun-Times Columnist

Maybe I'm a little touchy right now. But a commentary by Erin Aubry Kaplan about Michelle Obama's hair on Salon.com that was excerpted in the Sun-Times rubbed me.

Last weekend, I had my hair straightened for the first time in 20 years.
» Click to enlarge image
Sun-Times columnist Mary Mitchell

Original article: http://ping.fm/GmUl7

To say the experience was traumatic would be an understatement.

My grandson had never seen me with straight hair. My youngest daughter, who hadn't seen me with straight hair since she was a child, nearly screamed. A close friend almost fainted.

My makeover started out innocently enough. I wanted a precision haircut, and my stylist reasoned that the best way to accomplish that was to straighten my hair so he could see what he was working with.

Afterward, I decided that if I was going to spend a hunk of change for a hairstyle, I darn sure was going to wear it for more than a day.

But every time I look in the mirror, I get a sinking feeling.

In straightening my hair -- a style that I wore off and on for more than 40 years -- I can't shake the feeling I've betrayed the natural sisterhood that I've belonged to for decades.

And, of course, there were the unavoidable comments:

"It makes you look younger."

"It makes you look older."

"It's working for you."

"You look so, so ready for Washington."

When I read Kaplan's article, it stirred up the same tormented feelings I had when I first walked into the newsroom with locks.

"Would even a mild curl on Obama, a la Oprah's lioness look, make people nervous?" Kaplan wondered.

"Hair texture and skin color work in tandem: The darker you are, the harder you have to offset it with "good" hair in order to be considered attractive or acceptable. If she weren't dark-skinned with classic dark features, Obama might not be so wedded to super-straight locks," wrote Kaplan, who described herself as a "black woman with curly hair, but it's not curly enough to be considered kinky."

There's nothing surprising about a black woman -- dark-skinned or light-skinned -- wearing straight hair these days. In fact, black women are probably more versatile than any other group when it comes to their hair.

Throughout their lifetimes, many will have flat-ironed, relaxed, twisted, braided, extended, weaved, wrapped or locked their hair, depending on their mood.

And I've seen as many, if not more, dark-skinned sister in twists, locks, curls and braids, not to mention wigs.

But here's what gets me.

Why are we still looking at black hairstyles as a measure of social acceptability?

Why can't a black woman choose any style she darn well pleases without carrying the weight of "100 years without a comb" and Madame C.J. Walker on her shoulders?

For as long as Michelle Obama has been in the public arena, she has worn her hair in the sleek, straightened style that keeps hairstylists in business.

And I've also seen her with her hair pulled back in a ratty ponytail.

As the first African-American first lady, Obama's personal hairstyle will send some women rushing to salons to duplicate her flowing locks, just as Jacqueline Kennedy's pillbox hats sent the women of her time rushing off to department stores.

Interestingly, former Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice's hairstyle also prompted commentary. For a while, writers were obsessed with Rice's old-fashioned 'do.

But I don't recall writers musing that Rice might be reluctant to wear braids or twists because she's a dark-skinned African-American.

And no one cared whether former first ladies Laura Bush or Hillary Clinton had their hair permed, flat-ironed or colored.

Unfortunately, to some people, Michelle Obama's hairstyle is still the "acceptable" style, while my natural twists were too "radical" for respectability.

But I don't think the first lady, who tends to be practical, would have a problem with natural hairstyles if she thought those styles looked good on her.

The days when the way we wear our hair said something about our cultural awareness have long been over.

Still, I'm stressed out. I won't even take a photograph of my temporary straight hair.

For now, it helps to hum India Arie's "I Am Not My Hair."

Original article: http://ping.fm/6l9x8