Growing up as the youngest in a family of ten, my mom missed out on many traditional “girly” experiences, including learning how to style hair. When I arrived, she was at a loss with my hair, and despite her efforts, I often ended up looking quite messy. My relationship with my hair significantly influenced my self-esteem. Determined to embrace my natural beauty, I made it a goal to master hair styling during my first year of college. This journey helped me understand the impact of white beauty standards on Black women and the importance of loving my natural hair.
While I’m far from an expert, I’ve developed enough skills to create a variety of styles. As I learned to care for my hair, I became increasingly aware of the need to ensure my children wouldn’t struggle with the same hair insecurities I faced. Years later, when we found out we were having a son, I wondered how my hair skills would be applicable to him, especially since most boys I knew sported short fades. When my husband suggested we delay our son’s first haircut, I felt uncertain about learning styles for boys, especially as family members chimed in with comments about how handsome he would look with a haircut.
Faced with the choice of conforming to family expectations or raising a child who could subtly challenge societal norms, I chose the latter. I decided to apply the skills I had developed in college to my son’s hair. I anticipated that his big, beautiful Afro would make some people uncomfortable, but I wanted to guide him on a journey to self-acceptance that I never had the chance to experience.
Initially, it felt strange to replicate the stances and quick movements I’d observed from the Black women in my family, like my aunt. My son wasn’t thrilled about being confined to a chair for long periods, but we both adapted. Now, while he still dislikes sitting still, he gets excited about gathering our hair tools, and he enjoys putting them away afterward.
When I see boys of other ethnicities with long hair, I find myself smiling at their parents, as I know they face similar assumptions about gender and appearance. But I also recognize that our experience as a Black family is distinct. As I began incorporating protective styles and focusing on moisture, his hair flourished. This growth led him to encounter the politicized nature of Black male hair. Just as I had, he experienced the discomfort of having others touch his hair without permission, prompting me to teach him to assertively say, “don’t touch it” when he feels uneasy.
For Black children, hair texture plays a significant role in self-image. Historically marginalized groups often face judgments about their beauty, tied closely to proximity to whiteness. This is evident in how “nappy” hair is deemed “bad” while looser curls are celebrated. It didn’t take long for comments about my son’s hair texture to creep into our home. With his looser curl pattern resembling his father’s, I worried about the outside world’s impact on his self-worth. I had to confront my own biases regarding “manageable hair” and recognize that his worth isn’t determined by hair texture.
At three years old, he has yet to encounter phrases that favor one texture over another, but he sees me styling both our hair. Though he is not fond of long styling sessions, he loves the results. When I moisturize my hair, he eagerly exclaims, “me too, me too.” Each time I try a new style on him, he eagerly rushes to show his dad or calls his grandma to showcase his new look, reveling in their admiration.
He is learning that his hair is part of his autonomy, and fortunately, he hasn’t internalized the stereotype that hairstyling is solely a woman’s job. To keep things balanced, his dad also participates in washing, detangling, and moisturizing. These moments are special to me. While my mother expressed love in many ways, hair care wasn’t one of them. I cherish the opportunity to care for my son’s hair, especially in a space where resources for Black hair care are limited.
Raising a Black child with growing hair presents its challenges, but my son’s free-flowing locks — despite being time-consuming — are a source of pride. His beautiful curls and rich skin symbolize a journey toward freedom that is rarely celebrated in Black children. His voluminous hair challenges societal norms and encourages others to reconsider their assumptions, while also keeping their hands to themselves.
I’m not sure how long my son will express his joy through his hair. He is quickly approaching an age where he will develop his own preferences. Regardless of his choices, I will stand by him throughout this journey.
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Summary
This article explores the author’s journey of bonding with her Black son through hair care. It reflects on her own childhood experiences with hair styling, the importance of self-acceptance in the face of societal beauty standards, and the challenges of raising a Black child who embraces his natural hair. By creating a loving environment where hair is celebrated, she aims to instill confidence and autonomy in her son, navigating the politics of Black hair together.