MUSING #9 : Haired Experiences

MUSE: I listened the live chat of For Your (Dis)Comfort, with my dear friend Joahna Ruffin as a guest speaker. The conversation was part 7 of an ongoing talk among Black professionals, influencers, and activists, led by Bryce Michael Wood. They covered many topics, including the presence of white superiority in fashion (subconsciously in the lives of American teens as they try to fit in and find their identity). They talked about how everyone makes mistakes but we have to own them and learn from it. They even covered the emotional journey of coming to terms with one’s natural hair in a society that sees it as exotic or less pretty. My friend Jo shared her personal story of growing up thinking she had to have it straightened and long, till she could no longer keep up the treatments while being a trainer at SoulCycle, so learned to except and love her natural hair.

MUSING: 

I connected with Joahna’s story because I too started straightening my hair from a young age and didn’t feel comfortable wearing my hair in it’s natural state until my mid-twenties. As she was talking I felt a surge of emotion and connection to her, because I truly related to what she was describing: the expectation and subconscious brainwashing of young girls to do painful and damaging treatments to our hair in-order to look like the idealized style of long, straight, flowing hair. Like Jo, my hair is extremely curly, so I had undergo constant blow drying and straightening of the hair to style it as straight, and also missed out on things in order to keep it straight (like swimming). 

So why did I feel my hair wasn’t pretty in it’s natural curls, and consequently I needed to straighten it? I remember being very young and loving my curls. I even referred to myself as Goldie Locks and Shirley Temple. But by the time I entered middle school, I felt that my brown curly hair was too ugly to go to school with, and either had to be tied back or straightened. Why? I don’t recall my parents ever saying that I had to wear it this way. However my Mother, a Southern Bell from an Episcopalian family, always blow-dried her blond hair to be straight. Furthermore, my elder sister started straightening her hair at a young age as well, meaning both of the females in my family showed by example that our hair should be straight to look presentable, and therefore our natural hair is not as pretty/nice/neat/acceptable.

Though my Mom is not of the Jewish faith, my Father is and they decided to raise their four children in Judaism. I started attending Sunday Hebrew school at the age of 5, and have always gone to school with a large number of Jewish students. So at no point in my formative school years did I feel like a minority or afraid to show my true self... but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t aware of the negative assumptions and stereotypes that the our society sees the Jewish community through. Through television and film we are shown Jewish actors in comedic roles, using their curly brown hair as a statement of clowning rather than elegance or sex-appeal. So even if no one was being directly ant-Semitic towards me or made me feel any lesser by being and appearing Jewish, the societal view shown in advertising and entertainment told us to try and look like the ideal American: white and christian. 

Even though I identify as white, many other white people don’t see me that way. I’m Jewish. And my big curly hair is a reminder of that. So was I trying to seem less Jewish and more like the idealized ‘white’ by straightening my hair? I didn’t at the time think of as this, but rather an ‘ideal’ to look my best. But why was my natural state not my best? Because it looked Jewish? It’s a tiresome circle of thought to reflect on, and can’t be answered simply. Possible can’t be answered at all since there as so many factors and layers, both conscious and unconsciously engaging with our choices throughout our lives. 

One of the reasons I wanted to share this (along with agreeing with what Jo and the other great speaks that there needs to be more representation, platforms for diverse voices, and people in power that can help redirect societal perspectives) because I think it’s important to highlight that a story about the struggle of being a POC in America resonated with me personally. I could find within my own experience the pain and confusion that millions of Black citizens have experiences in their own ways. It is important to find these moments of connection so that it doesn’t just become a stream of listening to the realities of our world, but really feel them. Feel that something is wrong and that change needs to happen. Listen to these stories and find anything you can relate to, even if it’s a fraction of the pain and trouble they have endured. Then acknowledge that it’s only a fraction! And that their pain needs to end. Our pain, as one community of humans, needs to end. 

Has there been a time when someone suspected you of something with no cause?  Has someone made an assumption based on your religious beliefs? Have you been criticized for the way you dress or wear you’re hair? How did that make you feel? Now take that feeling and multiple it by 100. Try 1000. Now, just maybe, you’ll have an idea of how it feels for a Person of Color in America. To have assumptions, judgements, and pressures thrown at them every day. Though truthfully we can have no idea what it’s like to embody their experience. But we can listen, and find moments and experiences of commonality, and learn to work together to end white superiority in our society and own perspectives.