As a Black woman who now loves her hair—but once struggled deeply with it—I carry a unique perspective. Over the years, I’ve worked hands-on with thousands of clients, some who look just like me and many who don’t. Through real-life case studies, research into the history of Black hair, and my own lived experience, I began to understand why so many of the women and families I supported had such a complicated relationship with their hair.

Now, as a mother to mixed-race children, I’ve leaned fully into what I know is my calling—to help reshape the narrative around Black people’s hair and offer a different, more compassionate way forward.

Black people are born into a world that often views their identity through a lens shaped by racism, unrealistic expectations, and a history we didn’t ask for—but still have to navigate. In our community, hair is not just hair. It’s identity. It’s safety. It’s survival. It’s joy, pride, resistance, and pain—all at once.

This free resource is a placeholder for something greater—my upcoming book, The Truth About Natural Hair, and the powerful experiences I plan to build around it. In the meantime, I offer this to you. Originally written for the Evolution of Black Hair exhibit I curated in 2022, this resource is for anyone who wants to understand Black culture and history through the lens of our hair.

My favorite poet, Maya Angelou, once said, “We are more alike, my friends, than we are unalike”—and it’s true. Still, the details that make us unique are worth knowing. They are what make our world a more beautiful place. That intention starts with you.

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How We Got Here

Black people's hair has been a topic of discussion ever since it existed. Starting from its centuries-old beginnings in Africa to today's worldwide billion-dollar industry, Black hair has long been rooted in celebration, bias, segregation, and miseducation. Black hair, despite its near-constant exploitation, remains an important staple in our culture. Natural hair is SO much more than just hair.

From Tradition to Trauma

Black people’s hair began as a sacred cultural and spiritual symbol in ancient African societies. Braids and other adorned hairstyles were more than beauty — they signified marital status, religion, wealth, age, and rank in the community.

When African peoples were kidnapped and brought to unfamiliar lands in the 1600s, everything that rooted them — their clothing, their practices, their rituals, their identities — was stripped away. Their cultures were punished out of them, and they were forced into survival mode.

From Anonymous to New Identity

Slave traders shaved the heads of the African people they captured as a deliberate method of identity erasure. Once their hair grew back, Black people adapted to new hair practices out of survival. Cloth coverings protected the scalp from the sun, and bacon grease and cornmeal were used to “cleanse” and “condition” the hair.

Hair texture and styling played a significant role in the survival of enslaved Black people. Texturism—the belief that certain curl patterns or textures are more desirable than others—became widespread during slavery. The texture of an enslaved person’s hair could influence their value, their working conditions, and even their quality of life, comfort, and chances for freedom.

Eurocentric beauty standards deemed tightly textured hair and dark skin unattractive and inferior. This created the concept of “good hair.” Enslaved people with lighter skin and straighter hair were favored by slaveowners and placed in more “desirable” house positions. In response, many enslaved people went to dangerous lengths to straighten their hair. The harmful mentality of “good” versus “bad” hair has been passed down through generations and still shapes many people’s perceptions of Black hair today.

In the 1700s, the Tignon Law in Louisiana forced Black women to wear headwraps because their beautiful, elaborate hairstyles were considered a threat to the social order. Even then, Black women turned constraint into expression — adorning their wraps with color, style, and pride. That legacy continues today.

I’m Black and I’m Proud

In the 1960s, the Afro became a powerful symbol of self-empowerment, activism, and cultural pride. An Afro is created by combing out tight curls in every direction, lifting the hair into a rounded shape. In my work as a natural hair specialist, I often explain that an Afro is simply curls in their uncoordinated, frizzed state — a concept many individuals with curly hair, and even many trained hair professionals, still don’t fully understand.

Institutional bias against Black people’s hair continues today. As of 2022, most cosmetology curriculums still exclude tightly textured hair altogether. In schools and workplaces, Black hair is often labeled “unprofessional,” policed through biased policies, or judged against Eurocentric standards. In many parts of the world, Black people’s natural hair is still ridiculed, restricted, or punished.

The CROWN Act (Creating a Respectful and Open World for Natural Hair) is the first legislation in U.S. history to ban discrimination based on Black hairstyles and textures. While it marks a significant step forward, the journey toward full acceptance, inclusion, and appreciation of all hair types continues — and it requires courage, education, and honest conversation.

Natural hair is so much more than hair…

Black ancestors did the best they could with what they knew, passing down generational cycles of hair care shaped by survival, limited resources, and forced assimilation. Today, we’re battling a different force — a consumer-driven market that sells to our insecurities, not our needs. Under the guise of “beauty standards,” Black people are still being exploited.

Common forms of consumer exploitation include hair typing systems, chemical relaxers and texturizers, chemical color, extreme heat straightening, and even hiding the hair entirely. These practices are rooted in centuries of bias, segregation, and prejudice — and many modern brands and influencers continue to profit from them.

Through my company, Brown Skin Women, I teach consumers and professionals a clean, simple, and educated approach to tight curly hair care. But to truly honor tight curls, we must first confront the darkness of their racist roots. Only then can we reclaim the beauty, pride, and cultural truth they hold.

I created this resource to help shift that narrative — and to begin the collective unlearning and relearning our community deserves. This guide is the starting point, not the finish line.

Thank you for walking through this history with me. Black hair has carried stories of identity, resilience, and beauty for centuries, and it continues to influence how we see ourselves and how the world sees us. My hope is that this resource helps you understand our hair — and our people — with deeper clarity, compassion, and respect.

What you’ve read here is only a glimpse of a much larger story — one I am writing with intention, honesty, and love. I look forward to sharing the rest soon.