My mother would hot comb her hair, which was the style developed to even out the kinks in the 70s with a straighter style. Then she might use the curlers or hot comb curler to provide some waves. I was always fascinated with my mother and her friends’ hairstyles. Watching the television, we never really saw very much, if anything, about black women and their hair routine. However, I recall as a young child being wedged between my mother’s knees as she would grease my scalp with pomade and plait my natural hair. She was unable to canerow and would part my hair into little squares, gather a small bunch together and put these into three parts for a neat plait. For church, she would put a ribbon on it, and I looked very cute with this floppy bow. Another memory I have includes walking down the road with my father, maybe around 7, with my hair in two bunches and blue ribbons tied around the centre of each bunch.
During High school, aged 13-17, I wore my hair naturally, it was quite short at that time, I boys used to call me ‘baldhead’ and I envied the nimble hands of those black girls who could part their hair down the middle and have a single thick plait on each side of their head, looking majestic. I learned how to develop a new style by twisting, and not plating the sides, which resembled the twist on a Cornish pasty. I looked cute, and it was accepted by my peers. As I grew older, this led to a ‘blow out’ at the barbers, leaving me a wonder afro, resplendent with my ‘black panthers’ look. This changed to a curly perm afro aligned to my ‘soul girl’ phase, followed later by a straight perm with length. In a fit of rebellion to this group membership style of length, I cut my hair short into a pixy style close cut bob, which I thought looked magnificent. My friends would say, ‘How could you cut off all your hair? Confidently, I thought I looked chic, stylish and fabulous and let them know it.
I have found that black women’s hair is so versatile that it has produced many images and styles aligned to my personality. Around my thirties, I would wear my hair in extensions in a cornrow bob; once a disastrous weave in which lasted a day, removed it, and went back again to my cornrow bob, which was my go-to style for many years. In later years, I continued with a dignified plaited chignon, which I felt was an elegant look for my 50s, and then became more aware of the damage to the physical health of black women using synthetic hair and perming and colouring of our hair. I have never been worried about the workplace expectations, and yawned through the normal ‘is that your hair? how long is it? how long does it take you to wash it? how often do you wash it? can I touch it …’no!’. But have noticed how other black women talked a lot about ‘professionalism’ regarding their hairstyles at work and can see where the pressure to conform to be able to ‘flick’ your fringe has come from. In later years, I have felt confident to flip back to developing my style to match my evolving character, twisting my natural hair, or blowing it out and leaving it to fall naturally, or adding some gel to revel in popping curls. I, my daughter and granddaughter can certainly concur with Grace from ‘Grace’s corner’, song as we sing ‘I love my hair’.