Get Out Of Her Hair!

Column

By KASI PATRIOT

I am loath to opine on issues of femininity–Black femininity more pointedly–because of the obvious fact that I am not female.

Because of my sexual orientation which places me in the opposite side of the gender divide, I cannot, therefore, claim to sufficiently understand the female psyche to the point of knowing more about the female condition than women themselves.

 The burden of Black aesthetics

I do, however, my lack notwithstanding, want to broach the obvious, and often contentious, area of female aesthetic appearance (and acceptance) and its many manifestations–particularly hair, and increasingly, nails.

Let me hasten to add this is not about the merits or demerits of choosing (or not choosing) these modifications of one’s physical appearance. Rather, it is about how we, as Black Africans–underline Black Africans–have, consciously or subconsciously, come to treat these aesthetic choices as signifiers of class.

They have become markers through which we read wealth, poverty, aspiration, and even dignity; the less said about beauty the better.

 Hair and nails as class markers

What am I getting at? Consider the image of a UKZN Black African graduate that recently made rounds on social media circles.

It depicts a young Black African woman, overcome with emotion as she celebrates what may well be a first in her family. A powerful, deeply human moment.

She is spotting her natural African hair neatly plaited into two buns on either side of her head.

Now, step away from this image for a moment, I will return to it a sentence or few later.

My youngest sister, coincidentally a two-time graduate of UKZN (the same institution as the young woman in the photo), wore her hair natural on her graduation day. This was not a departure from the norm; it was simply her preference. In fact, I have never–quite literally never–seen her with artificial nails or a weave. She has always worn her natural crown of African hair.

Graduation image and social pity

Back to the image of the trending graduate. I saw numerous responses here on Facebook expressing pity for the young woman’s “state.” These were triggered by someone– another young woman–who took pity on the young woman for “not looking like other graduates (not on account of departure from decorum or garb) but on account of her hair and hands being ‘different’.

Some even went as far as suggesting she should be financially assisted so that she might look like other students who were more “resplendently” prepared for the occasion.

And why? Because she wore her hair in simple Mickey Mouse buns and did not have artificial nails on her fingers.

This reaction is revealing.

It is not merely about aesthetics–it is about class and respectability. Over time, within previously marginalized communities, certain visual cues have come to signal success, effort and upward mobility. These cues–often costly and highly visible–are treated as evidence that one is “doing well” or properly marking an important milestone.

 Originality vs perceived lack

We see it all the time. On Tik-tok videos, at ‘groove’, even among social grant recipients whose R500 means making a crucial choice between beauty salon and a Boxer combo of vegetables and 5kg rice.

I argue that is tied to a broader history of certain social behaviours: the implicit expectation that, in order to be taken seriously or to counter negative stereotypes, one must present themselves in a way that aligns with dominant or aspirational standards.

In such a framework, significant occasions like graduations come with an unspoken script that one is expected not only to achieve, but to look the part.

So, when someone does not conform to that script, their appearance is interpreted not as a personal choice, but as a deficiency. Absence becomes lack. Simplicity becomes poverty.

Look at us! No, seriously, look at us! So, we no longer accept originality as a disruption of the boundaries of social acceptability but instead treat it as something to be pitied?

What makes us so convinced that something is missing to the point that we forget that perhaps nothing is, in fact, amiss?

Maybe she would have preferred a weave or manicured nails. Maybe she wouldn’t. We do not know. What we do know is that she showed up, achieved something meaningful, and did so as herself.

And yet, here we are --pitying her for that very thing. TQ