Redefining My Hair and Myself

“Messy afternoon?” my friend’s mother asks after seeing a photo of us. My friend and I laugh, knowing her mom is talking about my wavy hair. The reason she is laughing is the same reason that I walked around with a thick plume of brushed-out, frizzy hair in sixth grade. It’s the same reason that thousands of South Asian girls groan at their mirrors, wishing their hair would just be straight. And it’s one of the reasons that textured hair has been criticized for years, creating a silent social battle between young people trying to love their hair and society’s unfair standards. 

We South Asian girls with textured hair are constantly told to brush out our waves to straighten them. Before my hair became wavy, my straight hair had been the center of attention whenever my family friends saw me. My mother’s friends would tell me how lucky I was to have such soft, straight, “American-looking” hair. Like many other teenagers, however, my hair became wavy after puberty. By middle school, the bubble of fondness for my hair had popped; now, my mother’s friends began to ask her if I even tried to brush my hair. Convinced my hair was still naturally straight, my parents, too, had encouraged me to brush out my waves. My community had pushed me to believe that the wavy “imperfections” in my hair would go away if I tried hard enough.

So, for the next few years, I listened to them: I brushed my hair every morning, watching my hair gradually straighten. Eventually, it wasn’t just my brown community encouraging me to get rid of my waves, but my classmates as well. In sixth grade, kids would ask me why my hair was so frizzy and how it got so messy. By then, my goal was no longer just to get rid of my wavy hair to fit in with my brown community, but to belong with those at school as well; I felt so out of place seeing how my wavy hair clashed with everyone else’s effortlessly pin-straight hair. 

By eighth grade, my hair had become almost completely straight, which brought the positive comments back. Yet, this time, I didn’t enjoy them. When I was younger, I couldn’t notice the subtle racism laced into my parents’ friends’ comments, but this time I did. I didn’t understand why they thought having “American-looking” hair was a good thing. I didn’t understand why they would compliment my pale skin and say that it went well with my straight hair. I didn’t understand why they insulted themselves and each other for having darker eyes, skin, and hair. After learning more about British colonialism in South Asia, I realized their attitudes were the result of racism and Eurocentric standards ingrained in the South Asian community. I didn’t see their comments about my hair as compliments anymore—I felt disgusted with my community’s toxicity and racism. I began to feel perplexed as to who I was and who I wanted to be: I was someone with wavy hair, yet I had wanted to be someone with straight hair for so many years so that I could be accepted by my community again. I didn’t want straight hair anymore, but I thought that it was too late to turn back; my hair had already become pin-straight with only a slight wave surviving at the bottom. 

Once I came to Stuy, I befriended a few people with textured hair and found that I wasn’t alone in the experience of brushing out my waves. With my friends’ support, I began to feel more confident in my hair and decided to try bringing my waves back. But even at school, I still faced subtly racist comments. When I first came to school wearing my natural hair, my East Asian and White classmates made comments ranging from saying I looked like I had just gotten out of bed to saying my hair looked unbrushed. I knew my White classmates likely said that because of their Eurocentric standards, but I also learned for the first time that textured hair wasn’t looked upon well in East Asia either. My East Asian friends told me that textured hair is seen as “unruly,” and that some East Asian schools even force kids with textured hair to straighten it to not be seen as “unprofessional” or “unkempt.” 

 When I told a curly-haired friend at Stuy about the comments other students made, she told me that she faced the same comments. She told me about how, whenever she straightened her hair, people would always shower her with compliments. Curious, I asked my friends with curly hair from other schools about this, and they told me that they had the same experiences.

My friends told me they kept their confidence in spite of these comments because of the people around them. Like me, they thought that it was harder for teenagers like us to love our hair because others’ criticism can easily get to us. However, they told me that they found comfort elsewhere; their families encouraged them to love their natural hair, as it was a token of their cultures, and that they connected with friends who also had textured hair. Instead of fearing being shunned by a community for their hair, they had found a supportive one. And although I’ve just begun, I’ve noticed that I’m starting to find a community too. In the midst of all the negative comments, all of my friends with textured hair at Stuy have adored my wavy hair. They begged me to keep doing my hair and promised me it would heal more over time. If it weren’t for them, I likely would not have come this far in loving myself and my hair.

In all honesty, it will take me a long time to adjust to wearing my natural hair. I’ll have to deal with trying all kinds of different products and late-night calls with my curly-haired friends trying to figure out how a diffuser works. Still, I’m glad I started. I’m glad I’ve realized my natural hair is beautiful, even if others haven’t. I’m glad I have the chance to watch my new waves grow in, with some healthy curls here and there. But my heart still aches for the other teenagers my age who are ashamed to start their journey. Although it is difficult, I hope that they can be as lucky as I was and have people with them who support them. But for now, we can all be there for those teenagers by becoming supportive people, just as my friends helped create a sense of community for me.