Natural Hair Confidence | When Natural Hair Is a Strike Against You

Nike Anderson
Apr 21, 2016
3 min read

I sat on a padded bench in the church lobby. My puff as big as my head. My curls rebellious and free. Confidence made me sit tall, as I crossed one leg over the other and folded both hands in my lap. Skinny jeans, a peplum blouse, and four-inch heels complimented my look. Inner peace and self-awareness responsible for my inner glow. I felt beautiful in every way: physically, mentally, and spirituality. And at that moment, I desired all women to feel this way.

It wasn’t long before a beautiful woman sat beside me. She looked around my age, which was 26 or 27 at the time. She immediately praised my natural hair, remarking how she wished she could be that brave. Funny that, in that moment, rocking my kinky-curls didn’t feel brave anymore—it just felt natural. Five years after my big chop, I’d forgotten the courage it took to get to me to that place self-confidence. But I knew what she meant. How she felt. The frustration of realizing how much your confidence relied on how well you could conform to ideal beauty standards.

"I resorted to wigs and weaves to mask my most offensive feature—my natural hair."

I turned to my new friend and told her what I knew no one else would, “You’d look beautiful with natural hair. It’s the hair God blessed you with.”

A chuckle escaped her, but it couldn’t mask the underlying sadness in her tone. “Girl, please,” she said waving me off. “You can do that cuz you thin and pretty. I’m already fat, so I can’t be having two strikes against me.”

My heart ached for her. The strikes. I could relate to that thought-process all too well. For me, my African features used to be a strike. My brown complexion used to be a strike. Every flaw I magnified when I looked into the mirror was a strike. And to avoid any more strikes, I resorted to wigs and weaves to mask my most offensive feature—my natural hair.

Boy, did me and my new friend have a deep conversation that day. She revealed everything to me that we’ve all felt at some point, but are too ashamed to admit. As a single woman, she felt natural hair blew her chances of meeting a nice guy and settling down. Strike one! As a corporate professional, she felt natural hair would stand in the way of a promotion. Strike two! As a dark-skinned woman, she felt natural hair would detract even more from her beauty. Strike three! My heart sank at the reality that her fears had some validity, that there was nothing I could say to assure her that she was wrong.

"Yes, people think curly hair is beautiful, but it can never be sexy, worthy of special occasions, or highlight one’s true beauty potential."

Even with natural hair becoming more mainstream, the stigma that it’s a strike still remains. Yes, people think curly hair is beautiful, but it can never be sexy, worthy of special occasions, or highlight one’s true beauty potential. This notion is evident in the number of bride-to-be’s I’ve encountered who’ve insisted on straightening their fro’d-out manes for their wedding day. In the number of people who express concern if I choose to wear my natural hair for a special occasion. And, of course, in the vast difference in treatment whenever I choose to straighten my curls. Everyone has a right to their preference, but we must also ask ourselves how much western beauty standards affect our preference for straight hair.

Five years later, my dear friend still hadn’t made that jump to go natural. It saddens me to say that over the years I’ve met even more women like her. All of them honest reflections of the old me. All of them dodging strikes. If only they saw that what they admired so much about me could also be their future. That they, too, can redefine beauty for themselves. All it takes is renewing one’s mind to free oneself from the bondage that is beauty standards. Coming to that level of confidence when you can declare; every hair-type is beautiful, but the one I was born with is my favorite.