A hairy situation

In 2005, the soul singer India Arie boldly proclaimed: "I am not my hair." But last night, black students sporting weaves, dreadlocks and natural afros challenged that statement. Black hair is a part of black identity, they said, and it is beautiful.

The small group of students discussed the importance of black image during "My Black is Beautiful," a panel discussion in the Stamp Student Union lead by A'Lelia Bundles, the great-great-granddaughter of Madam C.J. Walker, who helped start the modern cosmetics industry by creating hair products for black women. The group teased out how black hair is often a catalyst for debate on how the black community defines beauty.

"Women worry that if they don't have perms, they can't get a job," Bundles said. "It just goes to show how far we haven't come. It's interesting that in 2010 we have not become comfortable with our natural hair. It's incredible to me that we are never ever going to solve this issue."

Whether black women try to comb out "nappy" coils or sit in salon chairs with the white glop of a relaxer straightening their kinks, it is no question that black women's hair is a matter of personal identification. But it is also an establishment of a place in mainstream society, Bundles said. Since the early 1900s, black women have tried to change the texture of their hair by using hot combs and chemicals — trying to fit into the fine and straight world of white hair and acceptance.

Social conditioning for black women starts at an early age, as the chemical treatment of hair can begin as early as the age of 2. Elementary school girls get relaxers, just like their mothers and grandmothers before them. The painful process of combing is a rite of passage and a bonding experience for black families.

After that point, the subject of hair never fades from the young girl's mind as they are exposed to media images and their family hypes the importance of "good hair." Going natural — leaving their hair untreated by chemicals — is often frowned upon by grandparents and can be seen as socially unacceptable and a reflection of black oppression.

For centuries, black people had no choice in how they wore their hair. Once off slave ships, their hair was shaved and left unkempt. Since, the definition of black beauty has roller-coastered. From the images of the fly Foxy Brown to the poster perfection of Beyoncé, black women are constantly inspired to find a way to fit their self-image into the history of black hair.

"I don't think we hate our hair," sophomore African-American studies and family studies major Nkemka Anyiwo said. "But we've never been taught how to take care of it. And because we've never been taught, that leads to this apprehension about loving ourselves."

"Black women can get a little testy about their hair," senior economics and government and politics major Mario Richards added. "They just get very defensive, very feisty. No matter what style, there's an insecurity and that in itself creates a barrier."

Bundles stressed that black women need to put aside their worries about social perception. Instead, they should look within themselves in order to find beauty and feel comfortable in their own skin.

"I feel like it is personal from the sense of how you perceive yourself and how people perceive you," sophomore psychology major Nehemie Sejour said. "I'm six months natural now, and I have white men telling me ‘Oh, your hair is beautiful.' And I say, ‘Thank you. I know it is.'"

After a night of discussion, students were able to agree on one thing: Confidence. It doesn't matter how your hair is worn, they said. Just as long as you wear it with pride.

"If you look around this room at all these people who identify as black, you'll see more styles of hair than you would if this room was full of white people," Richards said. "So the way we need to look at it is that the celebration of the versatility of black hair is really a celebration of being black."

hampton@umdbk.com