Rep. Ayanna Pressley disrupts Eurocentric aesthetic about hair

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Ayanna Pressley USA flag in background
Massachusetts Congresswoman Ayanna Pressley

Ayanna Pressley reveals she has the autoimmune disorder alopecia areata

U.S. Congresswoman Ayanna Pressley (D-Mass.) revealed she has the autoimmune disorder alopecia areata, which has rendered her hairless. Pressley, revealing her bald head in public photographs, has opened the troubling conversation about black hair, especially for African-American females.

Ayanna Pressley speaking in congress
Massachusetts Congresswoman Ayanna Pressley

Our children across America are being humiliated and punished because of racist rules and policies that discriminate against their hair texture and natural hairstyles. Last year, the video of an African-American high school wrestler forced to cut off his dreadlocks to compete went viral. The referee, who was white, stated that “his hair and headgear did not comply with rules, and that if he wanted to compete, he would have to immediately cut his dreadlocks—or forfeit.”

Pressley, known for her signature Senegalese twists as her personal identity and political brand, had been criticized as being “too ethnic” and “too urban.” However, to young black girls, Pressley’s hairstyle was both an inspiration and an affirmation to rock proudly.

African-American women and girls endure some of the harshest punishments concerning our hair, thereby permitting racist workplaces, institutions, and educators to discriminate against us without repercussion. In 2017, Mystic Valley Regional Charter School, in Malden, Mass., banned black twins Deanna and Maya Cook from playing after school sports and from attending their prom because they wore hair extensions to school, violating school policy. Massachusetts Attorney General Maura Healey stepped in on the twins’ behalf, sending a letter to the school flatly stating that its policy “includes a number of prohibitions that are either unreasonably subjective or appear to effectively single out students of color.”

In the blockbuster hit movie Black Panther, the beauty of black, unstraightened natural hair was placed front and center. Lupita Nyong’o as Nakia wore Bantu knots. Letitia Wright, as Shuri, donned individual braids, and Danai Gurira flaunted a bald head. While many African-American women today wear their hair in afros, cornrows, locks, braids, Senegalese twists, wraps or bald, our hair—both symbolically and literally—continues to be a battlefield in this country’s politics of hair and beauty aesthetics.

For example, in 2007, “shock jock” radio personality Don Imus insulted the Rutgers University women’s basketball team, calling them “some nappy-headed hos.” He struck a raw nerve in the African-American community—our hair. “Nappy” derogatorily referenced as a racial epithet, as Imus did, is the other n-word in the African-American community.

While many sisters today might use a hot comb on their hair, hot combs called straightening combs were around in the 1880s. They were sold in Sears and Bloomingdale’s catalogs to a predominantly white female clientele. Madam C.J. Walker, the first African-American millionaire, didn’t invent the hot comb; she popularized its use by remedying the perceived “curse” of nappy hair with her hair-straightening products that continue to this day bring comfort to many black women.

Black hairstyles are not criticized when they are being appropriated by white culture, especially when white celebs or models wear our coiffed styles. In 1979 actress Bo Derek donned cornrows in her breakthrough film, 10. In 1980 People Magazine credited Derek for making the style a “cross-cultural craze.” In 2018 when Kim Kardashian posted a video of herself flaunting braids to Snapchat, she credited them as “Bo Derek braids.” Just last week at the men’s fall/winter 2020-21 fashion show in Paris models presented creations by Comme Des Garçons wearing cornrow wigs.

Renowned African-American feminist author Alice Walker spoke out about the constraints of hair and beauty ideals in African-American culture. In her 1987 address at the historically black women’s Spelman College in Atlanta, titled “Oppressed hair puts a ceiling on the brain,” Walker said, “I am going to talk to you about hair. Don’t give a thought to the state of yours at the moment. This is not an appraisal…it occurred to me that in my physical self, there remained one last barrier to my spiritual liberation: my hair. I realized I have never been given the opportunity to appreciate my hair for its true self. Eventually, I knew precisely what hair wanted: it wanted to grow, to be itself…to be left alone by anyone, including me, who did not love it as it was.”

In California, the CROWN Act (“Create a Respectful and Open World for Natural Hair”), a law prohibiting discrimination based on hairstyle and hair texture, went into effect on Jan. 1. Femininity and attractiveness are integrally linked to hair as a Eurocentric aesthetic. Pressley, however, disrupts this notion because she’s stunningly gorgeous and regal—with or without hair. “I’m not here just to occupy space,” Pressley stated in a video interview on The Root. “I’m here to create it.”