Black folk and hair — and more so, white folk and Black folk’s hair — is a touchy (ha. ha.) damn subject. Because of the white supremacist culture I live in1, I barely have any vocabulary for talking about Black hair, especially in its natural state. What vocabulary I do have that is appropriate and non-offensive I owe to writers like Tami Harris; what vocabulary I have that is incomplete or inappropriate, I owe to kyriarchy, white ignorance, and my own failure to do the work before me.
But here’s one thing I do know: Black hair is not other-than. It is not different-from2. It is definitely not less-than.
Everything in the culture I am raising the Boychick in says otherwise. When Black men and women are to be taken seriously, their hair must look, as much as possible, like White hair. When it is natural, it is reviled or exoticized. My job therefore, in part, is to counter those messages: to normalize it, to center it.
Thus this exchange with the Boychick today, driving past the community college in the less disturbingly monochromatic part of town3:
Slowing to let a pedestrian cross, I spy a light-skinned young apparently-Black man with a 4″ rather floppy afro, comb riding in the back. The Boychick says: “That’s bad hair.”
“Which? The guy with the tall hair?”
“Yeah. That’s bad hair.”
“Why do you think it’s bad hair?”
“Because it’s bad.” (What can I say, he’s three.)
“That style of hair is called a fro, or an afro. See, people have different kinds of hair. Some people’s hair, mostly Black people’s, is sort of kinky, or really curly, and soft and light, and if they grow it long, they can sometimes get it to poof out like that. My hair can’t do that. My hair just hangs down. I think his hair was kind of cool.”
“…Oh. Yeah, it’s cool.” (Three is a very suggestible age, when they’re not practicing obstinacy.)
A few minutes later, I look back, and he’s playing with his hair.
“My hair falls in my face. That’s silly!”
Three.
***
Maybe I contributed to exotification. Maybe I used words that will offend should he repeat them. I am terrified — always, when talking of race — of saying a wrong thing.4
Terrified, yes, but not petrified, because the only thing worse than saying something wrong is saying nothing at all, and letting kyriarchy’s messages colonize him unexamined, unprotested, undisputed. And so I try.
- By white supremacist I do not mean KKK-ruled, I mean simply that whiteness is supreme in the hierarchy of color we have created. ↩
- Different from what white folk are used to, yes. But think about who it centers to call it “different”. Why is my hair not called different, because it is mostly straight, and thick? Because I am white, and my hair is the cultural default. ↩
- Portland, Oregon is listed as among the whitest cities in the USA. The last quote I saw put us 4th whitest. ↩
- I’m terrified of posting this, from fear that I have, and because the story of Black hair is not mine to tell. ↩
Arwyn
In my bathroom hangs a plaque with a picture of a yin yang and the word BALANCE. I can never get it to hang straight. This probably says something deep and meaningful about my life.
What scares me is living in an area that is 99.99% white. I think conversations about race or so important with little ones. And I worry that by default and due to lack of exposure that these won’t be conversations I have with my toddler. I suppose that just means I will have to be more proactive – but I’m not even sure what that would look like.
Wow, the idea of “good” and “bad” hair that young – where does that come from? TV? nursery? It’s not something I’ve heard here in the UK or in Ireland, until people are much much older. They talk about how bad fat is, alright, but not hair comparisons.
Ailbhe — I don’t think the Boychick “got” it from anywhere, actually. He’s going through a really judgmental stage right now, when everything is getting labeled good or bad, or loved or hated. And unfamiliar things usually go into the bad or hate pile. We’re trying, mostly, to not make a big deal out of it, and to give him the vocabulary and tools to be more descriptive in his evaluations.
Oh, right. Neither of mine did that so it’s not familiar to me, where the from-the-telly “fatty food isn’t healthy is it mum?” was appearing at about the same age.
Off-topic, but my son’s favorite term right now for anything he doesn’t like is “dirty.” Try explaining that one to strangers when they overhear him!
Think about the implications of a “dirty book,” a “dirty person,” etc. “No, I can’t do that, Mama, It’s too dirty.” Yipes.
Oh wow. I am offering up a prayer of thanks *right now*. I think mine said things were “hot” when they wanted to prove they couldn’t possibly have/touch/eat them.
Lauren @ Hobo Mama — Continuing your off-topicness, the Boychick’s thing when he doesn’t want to do something (other than saying it’s bad or he hates it) is “That makes me sick.” And I know exactly why: often, that’s the explanation I give for why I can’t play video games with him or eat the chocolate he’s offering me (migraines), or why he can’t drink the two day old left in the car juice (oops). One day I might write about that aspect of raising a kid as a parent with chronic illnesses.
We have had these discussions too. We are a multiracial household, so these things come up. My daughter, when she was a little younger, told me she is glad she has hair like mine (smooth, typically caucasion textured hair) rather than daddy’s (tight kinky, african american hair) and we had a discussion about how neither is better or worse, they are just different and different is good and okay, and that if everyone were the same it would be a boring world. She seems to have embraced this. She also discusses skin color a lot. She despises when people say “black” and “white”. On her own around 2 or 3 she started saying “people with peach skin” or “people with brown skin” or “people with tan skin” etc when differentiating among people of different races. I like that she put PEOPLE first, and skin color as a secondary characteristic. And that she recognized all on her own that people aren’t black and white, that we are all much closer shades of peach, tan, brown, etc. But that we are all people first.
This gives me hope that the mindset is changing for the next generation. She has so many friends of different races and doesn’t think twice about it. We live in a mostly white suburb, but if we go into the city not far from us, it is very diverse and I like that she does see many different people or different races and religions and cultures. Our son is still too little, he hasn’t grasped any of this yet, other than to pick up the african american Ken doll our daughter has to go with her Barbies (of all colors) and name it “Daddy doll”. 
As a bit of an outsider–I.e., not having raised kids, only having been one many years ago–I think many (but perhaps not all, based on evidence in previous comments) go through stages with regard to morality/right&wrong similar to what they go through with grammar. First they try to figure out the “rules”, and in this process over-simplify and over-generalize. Later they add nuance and exceptions. When I see a toddler labeling things right/wrong, good/bad, I figure they’re in the “figuring out the rules” stage. Your being there to temper that initial reaction and provide him with ways to think about new and unfamiliar phenomena, including people who look different from yourselves, will, I think, provide him with a good base-layer to work from.
Oof.This is part of the reason we moved from Western Massachusetts( mostly-white liberal bubble) to West Philadelphia.Not that this guarantees anything.
I was really shocked to read this post. Honestly, other than White women raising bi-racial children, I have never heard or thought about White women talking to their children about Black hair. Considering that you were talking to a three year old, I think that you did a very good job. As he ages,, I would try to stay away from the idea that it is cool or fascinating and stress that it is different but still great. The more naturalized kinky hair is the easier ti will be for those of us that have it — but I had to comment and say that I so respect and appreciate your effort.
Renee — Thank you, that means a lot to me. I struggled in the moment to find a way to speak positively about the young man’s hair (to counter the Boychick’s knee-jerk labeling of it as “bad”) without exotifying it or otherwise Othering it, and without shaming him thereby making it something we couldn’t talk about; clearly, I need to prepare more for next time.
I was pulled up short by you saying that you hadn’t heard of white parents talking with their white kids about this, though: hair is a pretty big Thing, and one of the most racialized aspects of our being aside from skin tone. Don’t we have an obligation to talk about it, to help give our kids (to the best of our ability) words and a framework to talk about it and not be cluelessly racist douchebags about it? If white parents aren’t talking about this (as just one aspect of race which is just one aspect of being human), why the hell not?
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