Black women’s hair: A personal choice, not a debate

If there’s one thing black women can count on—besides our unmatched ability to switch up our look—it’s the endless commentary about our hair. From the playground to the boardroom, from social media to the Olympics, it seems like everyone has an opinion on what’s growing out of (or attached to) our scalps.

Different braid style via 21Ninety

Unfortunately,, the loudest voices of criticism often come from within our own community.

Simone Biles via her Instagram stories

We’ve seen it play out time and time again. Gabby Douglas won Olympic gold in 2012, but instead of celebrating her athleticism, people were focused on critiquing her edges. Fast-forward to 2024, and Simone Biles—the most decorated gymnast in history(hello?)is still facing scrutiny over her hair. Meanwhile, athletes from all backgrounds compete without their hair becoming a focal point of discussion. So why is it that black women, in particular, often face scrutiny over their hair choices

Black woman in her natural hair via Melanated Rose

At what point do we finally say: enough? Let black women wear their hair however they please.

The never-ending debate over black hair

Different black hairstyles of the past via Pinterest

In West African societies like the Yoruba, Wolof, and Akan, hairstyles signified identity, social status, and heritage. Fulani women wore braids adorned with beads, while other groups used detailed  cornrows and shuku to pass down traditions. But during the transatlantic slave trade, these cultural markers were stripped away. Enslaved Africans were often forced to shave their heads, severing a deep connection to their roots. Later, laws like the Tignon Laws in Louisiana required Black women to cover their hair, reinforcing racial hierarchies.

Storm Reid in a blonde pixie cut via People Magazine

Colonial beauty standard effect

Hairstyling process via The cut

Colonial beauty standards demonised our natural textures, and even within our own communities, we internalised those messages. This led to generations of black women feeling pressure to conform, straighten, or hide their hair just to be taken seriously. During slavery and colonial rule, European beauty ideals were imposed, and Black hair was deemed inferior. Laws like the Tignon Laws in Louisiana forced Black women to cover their hair, not as a symbol of modesty, but to suppress their beauty and status. Straightening hair became a means of assimilation, a way to gain access to opportunities in a society that prioritised Eurocentric features.

Understanding this history, it’s clear why Black women have such a complicated relationship with their hair. We’ve had to fight for the right to wear it freely, without discrimination or consequence. But at what point do we stop debating, justifying, and explaining?

Braids hairstyles via MEFeater

Hair is personal, not a statement

Black women at the beauty supply shop via Pinterest

Here’s the thing: not every black woman rocking a lace front hates her natural hair. Not every relaxed-haired girl is rejecting her roots. And not every woman with an afro is trying to make a political statement. Sometimes, hair is just hair.

For some, wigs and extensions are a form of self-expression. For others, natural hair is a commitment to self-love. Some women love the ease of a pixie cut, while others enjoy the versatility of braids. Some have locs because they’re low-maintenance. None of these choices are wrong. None of them need defending.

Black women have the range, and that should be celebrated—not scrutinised.

Let black women be

The most frustrating part of this conversation is the fact that it keeps happening. Every time a black woman steps into the spotlight, her hair becomes a topic of discussion. It’s exhausting.

Anna Goodson Illustration

Instead of debating over what’s on another woman’s head, let’s redirect that energy into uplifting each other. Compliment that bomb silk press. Admire the boldness of a fresh buzz cut. Respect the dedication it takes to maintain locs. But most importantly, let’s stop assuming that a woman’s hair is a reflection of her self-worth.

Tems, Arya and Tyla via Pinterest

Black women’s hair is personal, powerful, and, most importantly, ours. We don’t owe anyone an explanation for how we choose to wear it. The endless debates and internal policing serve no purpose other than dividing us.

So whether it’s a laid frontal, a twist-out, or a TWA (teeny weeny afro), let’s remember one thing: it’s just hair. And it’s nobody’s business but our own.

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