No long, wavy or straightened hair please, we are naturalistas

Since she was a child, Tina Mnene has spent countless hours at the salon getting her hair straightened. In its natural state, her hair is tightly coiled in thick, black curls, but, like many African women, she considered that her kinky hair should, no, must be coerced, bullied, and ultimately tamed into submission.

For African hair, that inevitably means using either heat — such as blow-drying, hair irons or hot combs which temporarily straighten the hair — or chemical treatment, where a strong alkali such as sodium hydroxide or potassium hydroxide is used to break down the protein in the hair shaft and make it permanently straight.

“I had a long-standing Wednesday appointment at the salon,” she says. “Every week, I’d be using some form of heat or chemical on my hair to maintain the straight, silky look.”

But, four years ago, she had a daughter and, slowly, her own misgivings about what it really means to have “good hair” began to emerge.

“We all have the idea in our minds that girls should have pretty hair. But I began to realise that everything I was doing to my girl’s hair was to make it straight and soft. That’s all I wanted, and that meant lots of blow-drying,” she says.

“Eventually, I came to the point where I didn’t want my daughter to hate her own hair. So I cut mine and went back to my natural hair. I wanted to understand her hair so that I could learn to take care of it, and teach her to love it — and I could only do that if I, too, was natural. It would be hypocritical if I continued relaxing my hair and at the same time telling her to love how God made her.”

At the time, Tina worked in a bank, just about the most conservative and strait-laced workplace there is. When she showed up one day with her hair cropped short, the response from her colleagues was not what she had expected.

“The men loved it! They were very encouraging, fascinated, really, wanting to touch my curls. But, generally, the women were nasty, making snide comments and asking if my new look was because I was broke.”

You would think that it is just hair. But it is not; it is part of a bigger story. As the we become more globalised and our cultures overlap, national, cultural and local differences are swallowed up in the whole. When it comes to hair, straight is in, and every other woman on the street has the same long, wavy weave.

But, paradoxically, as external forces of globalisation push us into talking, looking and behaving like clones of each other, people tend to cling more to the things that make them unique. We want to be part of the new, exciting things in the great, big world, but we don’t want to lose ourselves in it.

For Africans, apart from darker skin, our hair is the one thing that really makes us stand out in the world.

In Nairobi, a robust community of “naturalistas” is mushrooming, as women rediscover their natural curls and shun harsh heat or chemical treatment for their hair.

Apart from dreadlocks and cornrows, women are now wearing their hair in short afros and curly twist-outs. And not all are poets, musicians, spoken word aficionados or afro-bohemian hippies, as the stereotype suggests.

“It’s ridiculous that wearing your natural hair is interpreted to mean that you are rebellious or somehow existing on the fringes of society,” says Tina.

“I mean, someone has even asked me if I’m a vegetarian because of how my hair looks. It’s crazy. Wearing a perm should be a statement, not what naturally grows out of your head.”

Some women we spoke to said they got scissor-happy and chop off their relaxed hair when they found that pregnancy and breast-feeding had thinned their hair out. Others had suffered heat damage as years of harsh treatment and chemicals made their hair fragile.

Others were tired of the high maintenance of relaxed hair and, as one poignantly put it, “I was tired of running away from the rain.”

Nyachomba Kariuki and Mary Mogoi are 20-somethings who are at the centre of this cultural reawakening. In 2010, they started a blog, Kurly Kichana, in which they chronicle their journey to natural hair.

“We’ve been natural all our lives, but we went ‘properly’ natural a few years ago—2009 for me and 2010 for Mary — which means we stopped the blow-drying or other heat treatment,” says Nyachomba.

“We started the blog just to chronicle what we were going through taking care of our hair and, with time, other people joined in. Now, the natural look is slowly becoming mainstream. But the biggest setback women have is lack of information. We just don’t know what to do with our hair to make it healthy.”

The biggest myth is that African hair is difficult to manage and maintain, cannot grow long, and looks unprofessional. But, with the right hair care regimen, anything is possible, they say.

Afro-textured hair grows in a tiny spring-like, helix shape. The overall effect is such that, despite fewer shafts compared with Caucasian or Asian hair, afro-textured hair appears and feels denser than its straight counterparts.

For several reasons, including its relatively flat cross-section, this hair type also has a dry or matt appearance. Its unique shape renders it prone to breakage when combed or brushed.

Naturalistas advocate washing hair with conditioner instead of regular shampoo, and, occasionally, using deep conditioning treatments such as egg, yoghurt, honey or avocado to moisturise it, as the biggest problem with African hair is its tendency to dry out.

They also advise patting the hair with water, and sealing in the moisture with coconut oil or shea butter. Combing should be gentle with a wide-toothed comb.

Although from the outside looking in, the naturalista community in Nairobi tends to overlap with other must-do activities in the upper-middle class lifestyle such as regularly attending Blankets and Wine (an upmarket, outdoor music festival) and sporting an ethnic-chic style of African beads and fabrics, the women of Kurly Kichana were quick to dispel the myth that they are elitist.

“We meet every quarter, where we get together with other naturals, get to know each other and share ideas,” says Nyachomba. “We have women from all over the city. It’s not just a posh thing.”

If the natural hair movement has a tinge of the posh, “barbie” lifestyle as Nairobians say, you might expect that social acceptance of natural hair increases with a rise in educational level or incomes. But Nyachomba and Mary say that better educated or richer women are not necessarily more accepting of the natural look.

Unmanageable hair

“Attitudes don’t change with more education or a higher standard of living,” says Nyachomba. “You would think they would, but they don’t. I think it’s one of those things that are really deep-seated from childhood. It takes a conscious decision to begin to accept your thick ‘unmanageable’ hair. It’s hard for many people.”

Broadly, natural hair at the workplace is frowned upon, particularly if it is not “tamed” into a dour, patted-down afro. In the US, rocking your natural locks could cost you a job, according to a study by Georgia State University.

Black hair is a divisive, even political, affair in the West, particularly in America, and it seems that skills, talent and intelligence are often overshadowed by the statement natural hair makes in the interview room.

A few years ago, a firestorm of criticism erupted when a white Glamour magazine editor told a group of women at a New York law firm that afros were a “no-no”, and that a “political” hairstyle like dreadlocks was inappropriate for the workplace. Black women were outraged and the comments got the editor six weeks on probation and ultimately resulted in her resignation.

Nyachomba and Mary have regular, 9-5 jobs — Nyachomba works in an NGO while Mary is a copywriter for a marketing and advertising firm.

“I’ve had comments from workmates, particularly women, who wonder why I can’t ‘do’ my hair. I’ve even had someone walk up to me and say, ‘I know someone who can fix your situation’ while pointing at my hair,” says Mary. “But it’s all about wearing your hair with pride and walking with your head held high. People appreciate confidence.”

But they both admit that the sudden surge in adopting the natural look could simply be a fad, another blip on the Afro-cool radar along with wearing Maasai beaded belts and khanga fabrics.

“Our response is that people should just do whatever makes them happy. We’re not here to judge; we’ll support whoever wants to go natural,” says Mary.