Dr. Kanika is a Physician, public health expert and author who advocates for inclusive, equitable spaces in workplaces and schools.
The Sister Study, funded by the National Institute of Health, found that hair straightening chemicals may increase women’s risk of uterine cancer. The primary users of hair straightening chemicals (also known as relaxers) are Black women. As a Physician and a Black woman who has utilized those caustic chemicals on my scalp, it is no surprise that this is the case. If you are a black woman, you are likely familiar with sitting in a chair and having a cream relaxer slathered over your hair, with scalp tingling and the chemical scent wafting into your nostrils.
I started getting my natural hair straightened when I was thirteen years old. I suffered many chemical scalp burns as stylists tried to walk the fine line between ensuring that my hair was barbie doll straight while not burning my scalp. They often failed. Frequently, given my super kinky, coarse hair, stylists would leave the chemicals on just a little too long, thus leaving me with weeping, wet, painful scalp burns that would harden into scabs. I remember being told in high school to ‘suffer for beauty,’ and that’s precisely what I did. Suffer.
I suffered because the standard of beauty was to have long, straight, flowing hair that would blow in the wind. That was beauty. That was professionalism. That was the goal. I couldn’t change my skin complexion or full lips, but my hair could be whipped, straightened, and burned into submission.
It wasn’t until college that I decided, contrary to popular opinion, that there was nothing ‘wrong’ with my hair, and it did not need to be ‘fixed.’ So I stopped relaxing my hair. Once I stopped relaxing my hair, I had to cut off all of my chemically straightened hair and start over with a low-cut fade. I started wearing big hoop earrings and lipstick to ensure I didn’t look like a boy. When I went natural, I lost more than my hair. I lost my femininity, my confidence and my boyfriend of 3 years. He told me he wasn’t attracted to girls with natural hair, so it was either my natural hair or him. I chose my natural hair.
I spent long days and nights learning how to do my hair because combs and brushes made for silky straight hair no longer worked for my hair. Hair products for natural hair weren’t as plentiful back then (1999) as they are now. There was no Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, or Youtube with Naturalistas showing me all the cool styles I could do with my hair. There was only a Yahoo group that I would scour to get tips and tricks to learn how to style and care for my hair.
I had a beautiful, big afro when I went to medical school. The Dean of Minority affairs asked me if I thought medical school was the place to make a statement. I questioned (silently, of course) why wearing my hair the way it naturally grew out of my head was considered some form of resistance. This was no ‘power to people’ statement. This was just me embracing my hair and in turn myself.
Eventually, as my afro got too big to manage as a busy medical student, I decided to loc my hair. Dredlocks are naturally formed when curly, kinky hair isn’t combed or brushed. A Senior Resident Doctor in the hospital asked me why I wanted to wear dreadlocks since I didn’t work at Mcdonalds’. I cringed and shrunk a little inside as I received the message that I was again undesirable, this time as a Professional, with my hair in its natural state.
Fortunately, I ignored my (ex) boyfriend, Dean and Senior Resident and kept wearing my hair in its natural state. My contrarian nature kept me from caring much about their opinions. In fact, it likely fueled my resistance. By this point, I loved my natural hair more than I needed outside approval. I understood that the disdain for curly, kinky hair was really disdain for Blackness. A contempt that resulted from being raised in a society that devalued and demeaned all things Black and uplifted and worshiped all things White. Reverting to straightening my hair then would have meant that I was accepting Eurocentric beauty standards over African beauty standards, a concession I would never make.
This is about more than just hair. The devaluing of Black women is killing Black women. It kills us when we are pregnant, delivering our babies, and postpartum. It kills us when we have heart attacks that are misdiagnosed as anxiety. It kills us when we have excruciating pain due to intestinal rupture and are written off as drug seekers. It kills us as we put chemicals in our hair that cause cancer to meet Eurocentric beauty standards.
For those who would say Black women are poisoning themselves by choice and that no one is forcing them, let us not forget that until recently, employers could make dress codes that made Black hair worn in its natural state a violation and grounds for termination. Organizations and schools have used Black women’s natural hair as reasons for not hiring us into organizations or accepting us into schools. We have been passed over for promotions and admissions, ensuring that we stay at the bottom of the socioeconomic ladder. All because of our natural hair.
2022 is not 1999 when I first started my natural hair journey. Black girls and Black women everywhere are rocking their natural locs, loving their hair and accepting themselves. However, there are still too many Black women poisoning themselves trying to attain Eurocentric beauty standards to ensure they maintain their tenuous grasp on the American dream. Black hair has been weaponized, so it is no surprise that Black women will do whatever is necessary to fit in, feel beautiful and advance in their professional careers.
Leaders and organizations must stop discriminating against Black women because of their hair, whether weaves, braids, locs, afros, Bantu knots, or the curliest of curls. Natural hair is a work of art; just because you don’t understand it doesn’t mean it is unprofessional. Leaders need to examine their biases and recognize they are more than harmful. These biases are deadly and killing black women who conform to ensure their place in the workforce. Organizations and schools should review their dress codes and other policies to ensure they are not discriminating against Black women because of their hair. This is what true inclusion looks like. When this happens, both Black women and organizations win.
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Kanika Sims, MD, MPH, is a Physician, Health Equity + Workplace Inclusion Strategist and author of “Diversity Is Not a Dirty Word: Harnessing the Power of Inclusion to Create Anti-racist Organizations.”
