Why We Should Spend More Time Looking at our Hair
What does your hair mean to you? Is it a part of your body that you cherish or are there days when you want to remove every little hair follicle there is? Believe it or not, according to Holton, a geographer at University of Plymouth, in a very interesting article, “On the geographies of hair: Exploring the entangled margins of the bordered body,” our hair is not only subjugated to social hierarchies but is also an element at the border through which we express our emotions and transitions. Hair is a relational space and it’s important for people to understand how it can shape their identity.
Holton’s argument is that hair, a biological excreta that is at times seen as neutral, a provider of warmth, protection against bacteria and a sexual symbol, is a subjective category. We know that skin defines us incredibly as we witness its role in racial struggles in our society, but hair’s positionality and flexibility at the borders of our body that interact with society requires a deeper understanding.
There’s no doubt that hair, like the color of our skin, can succumb to the pressures of the dominant discourse on gender, race, and age, causing divisions among people. A survey in 1996 in the USA showed that people thought that middle-aged women with long hair representing women who were attempting to hide their age. The capitalist and patriarchal frames that determine appropriate hair for schools or in the workplace limit and marginalize people deliberately.
Hair has indubitably been a tool in racial segregation; “the shape of the hair follicle that determines whether hair is curly or straight” socially classifies race and culture. Asian hair follicles tend to be circular, while an elliptical shaped hair follicles are associated with African hair. The author reminds us of the history of marginalization of Black women through the construct of hair hierarchies. People became fascinated by the exoticism of “other” types of hair and what they thought was “wild” hair, specifically referring to Black hair. Meanwhile, people who chemically relaxed their hair were accused of “becoming white” as they tried to “deracialize” their bodies. We address these hierarchies hidden in our hair every day as we prepare our bodily hair before stepping out of the house!
Holton also reminds us that hair has also been used for humiliation and control. In history — during slave trade from Africa and the holocaust — women’s heads were shaved in order to dehumanize, control, and remove tribal identity. And more recently in 2015, when Samuel Mullet cut off the beards of members of the Amish community, he sought to defile an entire community.
But hair is “multiply-sited” and represents more than a tool of segregation. Holton recognizes hair’s important role as a frontier of expression. Hair is not just hair, “it contains emotive qualities that are linked to one’s lived experience.” Because this bioproduct can be removed or shaped, we can use it to assert identity, emotions, and transitions in our lives: masculinity, femininity, gender fluidity. Holton writes, a man’s face is an “index of maleness” that can be regulated by cutting or shaving. And women can spend hours grooming the hair on their body through waxing, shaving, or threading trying to look more fashionable based on the changing notions of hairless femininity. It is also used for expressing gender categories. Hair is a “chameleon-like substance” that can help blur the boundaries of someone’s gender and other identities. Linda Harnett, a Black poet vents about racial categorization when she writes, “Yes, my hair is/Straight/But that don’t mean that I ain’t Black.”
Holton sends an important message we cannot ignore, which is that hair does not only represent segregating structures but can be used for fighting structures that subjugate people. When we see different hair, let’s try to understand the individual response embedded in the style which shows our transitions, and is a place to build relationships.