As a Black woman who chooses to wear her hair natural and closely shaved, I am no stranger to the discrimination that often rears its ugly head. A mentor once told me I should think about “growing some hair” and getting rid of “the nails” so I would be taken seriously. Then there was that agent from a prominent talent agency who told me I was not palatable enough for a cable television audience. Did the agent mean I was too big and too Black for TV? Or too bald?
A mentor told me I should think about “growing some hair” and getting rid of “the nails” so I would be taken seriously.
My experience isn’t unique, so I was elated when a movement in support of creating a respectful and open world for natural hair — known as the Crown Act — began to sweep the country, where it has won approval in more than a dozen states. I was even more elated when the U.S. House of Representatives passed such legislation Friday. The act would prohibit discrimination based on natural and protective hairstyles associated with people of African descent, including hair that is tightly coiled or tightly curled or worn as locs, cornrows, twists, braids, Bantu knots and Afros.
On Feb. 28, when Democrats attempted to pass the Crown Act using a fast-track process that required the support of two-thirds of the chamber, Rep. Jim Jordan, R-Ohio, said he was opposed to the bill based on his belief that hair-based discrimination is already unlawful and because, he said, there were more important things Congress should be doing.
Jordan made a similar point during Friday morning’s debate when he said, “I hope we can actually focus on the things that matter to the American people,” which led Rep. Al Green, D-Texas, to remind him that “Black people are American people, too.”
Then there’s Rep. Loren Boebert, R-Col., the QAnon-supporting House Freedom Caucus communications chair, who, during last month’s debate on the bill, disrespectfully called it ”the bad hair bill.”
Sigh.
“Bad hair” is a loaded term, one that Black people experiencing internalized racism have often used to describe hair that is more characteristic of Africa than Europe. In 2009, the comedian Chris Rock made a documentary called “Good Hair,” which was inspired, he said, by his then 6-year-old daughter’s tearful question: “Daddy, how come I don’t have good hair?” Considering the bill being discussed and the history of the term, Boebert’s remark about “bad hair” was an egregious insult.
There is nothing bad about a Black person’s natural hair. Women such as acclaimed director Ava DuVernay, former Xerox CEO Ursula Burns and President Joe Biden’s nominee to the Supreme Court, Judge Ketanji Brown Jackson (who’s confirmation hearings begin next week) are prominent Black women wearing natural hairstyles.
You may say: See, this proves hair doesn’t matter and that no one is judging Black women or anyone else in America based on how they wear their hair!
Chris Rock made a documentary called “Good Hair,” which was inspired by his daughter’s tearful question: “Daddy, how come I don’t have good hair?”
Well, allow me to break the news to you and Jim Jordan that, according to a 2019 Dove Crown Act study, Black women’s hair is 3.4 times more likely to be perceived as unprofessional. That same study also found that “when looking at images of hairstyles on Black women and non-Black women, Black women’s hairstyles were consistently rated lower or less ready for job performance.”
Chastity Jones knows this all too well.









