As someone with 4c hair, I grew up under the impression that my hair had to be in some foreign form to be managed. Between receiving my first perm at the age of two, and continually sitting on couch pillows that the apartments of heavy-handed stylists, I received consistent feedback that my hair was especially unacceptable.
To adorn me with barrettes and ballies, my mom had to practically fight me each week. I didn’t have the silky texture she or her mother had. Nor did I have the length of my paternal grandmother, who claims Native American heritage (which was proven real wrong with 23AndMe. Also, Black people, stop saying you got Native in you at the hint of any Eurocentric feature. It’s more likely to be colonization- sorry.)
The braiders called me “tenderheaded.”
Tenderheaded /ˈten dər he dəd/ (adjective) The misconception that someone’s hair is more difficult to manage because of their extremely low tolerance to pain.
While the natural hair movement deemed braids as acceptable, it still isn’t in its raw form. While I love my aunt Tia, (Aunt Tia, if you’re reading this, I love you!!), her heavy hands had a way of simultaneously pulling my strands and pounding my scalp. Even as an adult, I wince when she braids my hair. Sometimes I take a Tylenol after an appointment. But now that I’m older, I know I am not the problem. Nor is my hair. Yes, it is thick. And yes, it is so coily that a stylist once told me I had 4c/4d pattern. But managing my mane no longer requires any pain tolerance.
If it weren’t for my friend who I met in college, I still would believe my hair was unmanageable. Taylor sat me down after wash day, grabbed a wide tooth comb to make parts, and twisted my hair section by section. She didn’t add any heat, nor texturizer. In fact, she didn’t even detangle with the comb. At this very moment, my world was opened to the concept that my hands were the best instrument for my scalp. To this day, I don’t use tools to detangle. Given that my curls were so defined, it took nothing more that a couple hours of detangling to make neat twists across my scalp.
At first, I didn’t like it because it didn’t show my hair in its longest form (so I assumed it was wrong because #LongHairDontCare, ya know?). The untwisting didn’t make it much longer, but it did show clear definition and soft texture. She had no trouble moisturizing because all parts of my hair were finally accessible.
Before I met Taylor, I was hotcombing my way through life. All 500 degrees touched my scalp, and only lasted a day before shrinkage sought vengeance. Now looking back, I’m partially embarrassed that my way of looking like Angela Davis required so many scalp burns. How did I rep Black pride if I was mutilating my curls?
Anyways, I understand that many Black girls grow up on couch cushions, kitchen sinks, and other makeshift salons, but that doesn’t mean we were taught to love our hair the way it is. I still love my braids, but just knowing that pain is not a necessary part of 4c hair care pushes me to be more protective (pun intended) of my tresses.
#LetThatScalpBreathe sis.
I still love my straightened fro though.
-J. Rene Canady
P.S. For more stories and resources about hair, check out my AfroSci media page!