mmichelle | 
10 19th, 2009| 
I woke up this morning with a vivid recollection of my introduction the comedic genius of Whoopi Goldberg, Dreadlocks and the “good hair vs. bad hair” debate. The year was ’85 (or maybe it was ’86) and I was 12 (or maybe I was 13… I can’t remember *lol*). My friend and cousins and I were enjoying a glorious summer day miles from Urbana in Leamington, Ontario (GO BIG TOMATO!!!), wandering aimlessly along the grounds of Strugeon Woods Campground waiting for the pool to open again (READ: being bored out of our minds). To remedy our lassitude, my cousin Chris suggested we watch the Whoopi Goldberg Direct from Broadway HBO comedy special his mother had taped, and knowing that our parents would not approve of us viewing such racy material, he managed to “smuggle” the tape away for viewing at the home of my friend Michelle (whose parents were… uh… I dunno where they were, which is probably why we were all there *lol*). While Fontaine was a riot, and the surfer chick, Kingston woman and handi-capable lady were all hilarious, the character I found most relatable was the little girl with the “long, luxurious blonde hair” that “cascacadaded” down her back (READ: a men’s white dress shirt she wore on her head). Being that I was somewhat oblivious to hair as more than just something that sprouted from my head, I never gave myself a shirt weave as I was growing up. But like Whoopi‘s character, I did desire to have long hair that “bounced and behaved” as Pert promised it would (ironically, my Canadian friends admire my hair type for its versatile texture – read more about that HERE). As for Whoopi‘s actual hair, being as it was the first time I’d ever seen Locks, they were at first “weird” and “Buckwheat-ish” to my virgin eyes, but I felt they suited her. This memory was most likely brought to my consciousness because of the uneasiness I feel every time I look in the mirror and realize just how big a leap I made when I took shears to my tresses ,and just how ill prepared I was for how it would affect me.
About a month or two ago, The Lion was playing music and happened upon a track called “Bald Headed Hoes” which was relatively popular among fans of Geto Boyz member Willie D back in ’89. While listening to the lyrics, childhood taunts at girls who were not “blessed” enough to the African-American equivalent of long, flowing hair (picture Rudy Huxtable-like puffy ponytail twists) echoed through my memory. While I was never in the “bald headed hoe” category myself, I was not immune to the stigmas those insults inspired. Even when I dared wear my hair short (about the time that Toni Braxton and Nia Long made close cropped do’s ultra chic) I made sure my hair was always properly coiffed and left no question that I was “all woman” underneath the strands. But now that I’ve gone natural and the longest part of my fro barely spans one and one half inches in length making me resemble my eldest son closer than ever before, those stigmas creep in and the chorus of that Willie D song becomes the soundtrack of my fears.
With all the talk of good hair vs. bad hair and natural vs. perm, I think the debate of long vs. short gets swept under the rug a bit. But in my opinion it is no less a stigma in the politics that comprise black hair. Along with straight hair, long hair has long been the adopted standard of beauty and the mark of femininity, and its counterpart (short hair) holds many of the same antiquated mental perceptions that are attached to nappy hair. Of course this is not just a standard among women of colour, but one that we seem to struggle with more because out hair does not naturally grow according to this standard. To help “us” achieve the feat of long and luxuriousness, an entire industry has been created to provide viable options such as wigs, full weaves and clip in pieces. And this industry does not cater only to black hair that has been relaxed. Oh nooooo! Even nappturals with just enough hair to clip a barrette to can possess length to their tresses by adding hair to create braids, locks, twists and twist outs as we wait for our own hair to catch up to the standard. So now, even those of us with hair that grows “up” and refuses to “relax” can attain the goal what Whoopie‘s childish character could not; to have flowing hair that “cascacades” down our backs.
I think because the option to add hair isn’t necessarily damaging to what grows out of our heads organically — or as controversial in aspects of the reasons we speculate women do it — we don’t see the quest for long hair as that prominent an imputation as other statues of black hair politics. But I counter that by saying. Whenever a woman steps out with short hair (depending on the style), all sorts of assumptions about her and the reason for her choice instead of sewing, gluing or braiding something in, run rampant. Of course most of us never hear such negativity because those statements of wonderment are a lot more subtle than arguments made for or against chemical alteration, and short hair is a bit more accepted than it used to be. But they are still there, mostly internally but a lot of times externally as well. Just look at the shock and awe American had when it was assumed Michelle Obama compromised her length.
What say you, hair community?
Healthy Hair Wishes,
