I Ain’t Sorry.

I’m aware of how the world sees me. How white people see me. How I’ve grown accustomed to seeing myself. Light skinned. Well-mannered. Soft spoken. Educated. Classy. Classic. My style icons have always been the likes of Audrey Hepburn and Jackie Kennedy. To me, they’ve always had a certain grace and elegance that spoke through their well tailored boat neck dresses, with delicate belts fitted to their tiny waists. I’ve always thought of myself as a classic beauty. And by definition, classic beauties are seen only through the white gaze. Classic beauties have hair that flows from their scalps, and cascades over their shoulders like the most beautiful of rivers. It doesn’t resist when you try to run your fingers through it. It can be manipulated in an abundance of ways, while always remaining beautiful.

Classic beauties don’t have natural black hair. they most certainly don’t have braids.

I remember my mother doing my hair when I was younger. She used to have me up in beads and barrettes. Only Black girls know the annoyance and slight pain, of whipping your head too quickly, and smacking the fuck outta yourself with them beads and barrettes. Truly it’s like a right of passage. As much as I despised them, I might have to do them on my daughter if I ever have one. Just so she can witness some of the bullshit the women before her had to put up with. If I wasn’t in beads or barrettes, I was primarily wearing permed straight styles (Thank God we know better now, but more on this later). Either down curled, or in pig tails or pony tails, that was my everyday look. I do remember the one time my mom gave me crochet braids. I remember this particular time because I had so much hair she couldn’t finish it in one sitting. So she put my hair up in a bun to conceal the unfinished part of my head, and I went out to go play. Of course I thought I was cute, let my hair down, and looked like a damn fool with the big ass gap in my head. I must’ve been about 8 or 9, and that was the last time I remember having braids.

Despite braids being big in the 90s, with stars like Brandy, Janet Jackson, Lauryn Hill, and Stacey Dash (back when we liked her) I never really fancied wearing them. The spaces I moved in, the magazines I read, and content I watched on TV all perpetuated the harmful myth that the closer I can get to whiteness, the better off I’d be in this world. The real message in that however, is that the further America and the Western World can push Black people away from their Blackness, it further keeps us slaves to the white ruling standards. And no standard has been as critical and traumatizing to Black women, as the standard of European beauty. In 1947 Mamie and Kenneth Clark, two Black psychologists conducted what is now known as “The Doll Tests.'‘ In it, researchers showed children two identical dolls except in skin color, and asked them to point to which doll was the prettiest. As you can imagine, most of the children picked the white doll, as they associated more positive characteristics with the white doll. Not even Black children were able to choose the Black doll as being the prettiest, because the European standards of beauty have given way to internalized self-hatred of Black skin and physical characteristics. And before you sit on this experiment and think, ‘well I’m sure things have changed since then’, it hasn’t. The exact study was recreated in 2009 by ABC News, and the findings still stand.

The internalization of european beauty standards suffocates black women from birth,and has a lasting impact on them throughout their lives.  

Not only are we told to inhabit the cultural look and lives of white people, but we’re told to do this while white people are culturally appropriating our style, vernacular, and music left and right.

The Kardashian empire is founded off the backs of Black people. Sounds familiar, right?! Even while touting their heritage as American Armenians, they have followed in America’s footsteps in capitalizing off Black bodies for their own personal gain. Somehow, this family has introduced the World to asses (fake ones), lips (fake ones), braids (weave), Black men, and Black entertainment as if none of these things were already here. (And yes, Kim is trying to be a lawyer and free the countries incarcerated Blacks, but we aren’t talking about that right now, so focus.) Society has told Black women to abandon pretty much everything that makes us, us, all the while stealing the things we’ve been forced to lay aside like some raggedy thieve’s in the night.

And Possibly worse of all, in that stealing our style and wearing it like a costume, its become acceptable to have black style and black hair. just as long as you’re white.

I have seen so many white women wearing braids, and more than the ridiculous—I just went to Jamaica on a cruise and got cornrows—bullshit. Now white people are giving each other tutorials on Youtube, on how to braid their hair like the Black women they give no attribution to. I’m a Black woman who has been intimidated to get braids because of how I’ll then be seen in the spaces I inhabit. God forbid I make a white person feel uncomfortable by what’s happening on my head. OR worse, intrigue them so much that they feel entitled to make a comment on, then TOUCH MY HAIR! They be tripping, and it’s wild. In early African civilizations everything you needed to know about a person was told by their hair. Your hairstyle could indicate your tribe, family background, social status, wealth, fertility, age, and much more. In some tribes for example, a man with braids symbolized the fact he was going to war. Now that you see how important hair was for Africans, imagine the hurt and cultural implication it has left for over 400 years, when the Europeans shaved the heads of both men and women when they enslaved them. This show of control by white people, completely eradicated the pride and identities of Africans, and even now in 2020 we’re still experiencing the same sort of policing over our hair. And to have white women rocking them with no care in the world, has got me f*cked up.

Black hair has always been an integral part of the Black identity, for better or for worse. In and of itself it’s a form of expression. A display of style. Black hair comes in many forms and textures, but it is for the most part high-maintenance. To wash, condition, detangle, rinse, dry, and style Black hair regardless of the type is a time consuming job. It’s why we can often spend hours in the salons, versus a white persons ‘in and out’ blowout. Its maintenance is also part of the reason why Black women prefer protective styles like braids and sew-ins, because it’s a way to protect our natural hair, while rocking whatever hair style we want for long duration’s of time.

This past decade has taught me so much about owning my Blackness. I found a community of Black friends that have taught me so much about what it means to be Black in America, and what it means to be myself. I’ve always had examples with my family, mother and grandmother, but after surrounding myself with primarily white people during high school, I really craved and needed the comfort, safety, understanding of Black people my own age. Now that I’m 29, have a Black (half) husband, hell, even a black cat, and eventually I’ll have Black children. I wanted to challenge myself. Challenge myself to honor the expressions that were so disgustingly taken from my ancestors— I got braids for the first time in 20 years, and honey listen…

“Middle fingers up, put em hands high. wave it in his face, tell him, boy, bye.”—Beyonce

I have been drinking the Kool-aid of European beauty standards for far too long. I let the discomfort of white people, and the possibility of them discounting me, hold me captive. I’m proud to be a Black woman, I can’t say that I’ve always felt that. There were times when I was younger, that I was desperate to ‘fit in’ more. I never wanted to be white per say, but I didn’t always want to carry around the burden of what it means to be Black. But now I know, that wasn’t my burden. That was America’s. It was the Western Worlds. They have an issue with my Blackness, and they slowly but surely indoctrinated me to disapprove of myself like they do. It’s a clever ass system y’all, and if you don’t pay attention they’ll getcha!

It’ll get you like the countless Black women struggling with hair loss and scalp burns because of perming their hair. Like the Black women of various skin tones who still feel they need to lighten their eyes or their skin. Malcolm X said

“The most disrespected person in America is the Black woman. The most unprotected person in America is the Black woman. The most neglected person in America is the Black woman.”

This country has made a lot of concessions for me because I’m a light-skinned Black woman. But it’s taken much from me as well. Our lives have been bought and paid for by our ancestors who were stolen from across the continent of Africa. Who were stripped of their culture, religion, language, dignity, humanity. To even dare take my sense of self, to dictate how I dress, or the way I wear my hair is operating as if the contract between Slave and Master still exists. I got braids because first, I needed a protective style for my hair. What my mother said about me having a lot of hair still stands, and ya girl needed a break. But I also got braids because I wanted to jump out of the box I allowed society to put me into. I allowed them to make me think I couldn’t be a classic beauty with an afro, twist out, wash-n-go, locs, passion twists, box braids or more. I let them make me believe that what I look like on the outside must dictate who I am on the inside. And I damn sure know who that person is. She’s: imaginative, theatrical, funny, sensitive, inquisitive, vulnerable, resilient, independent, accomplished, charitable. Just now, with waist length braids.