Black hair is identity and culture.
As previously discussed in the Introduction, Afro-textured hair’s unique shape and structure make it exceptionally different from Caucasian or Asian hair. Its beauty is only equal to its fragility, and making it flourish requires time, effort, and dedication.
Subsequently, through history, grooming, and styling, Black hair has become a cultural, social, spiritual, and familiar event by itself—Afro-textured hair speaks with its beauty and shape. With its health and its length.
Although Afro-textured hair is not exclusive from Africa—as natives from many Pacific Islands can attest—this article will focus on handling Afro-textured hair within African cultures, tribes, and civilizations.
Because it turns out that in Africa, hair care and styling could be a matter of life or death, acceptance or rejection, and even the soul’s wellbeing.
Protection against the elements
Coil-pattern, type 4 hair began in Africa. Its biological attributes are evolutionary traits designed to protect the scalp from the scorching sun and provide respite from the heat.
The kinky coils grow upward, therefore reducing the reach of harmful UV rays and the burning effects of prolonged sun exposure. Likewise, each hair strand’s low density and zig-zag pattern fulfill the role of providing aeration and ventilation to avoid excessive sweating.
Taking care of hair in African cultures was a matter of self-preservation as much as it was a matter of aesthetics—healthy hair meant a healthy scalp and guaranteed protection.
But even though biology prefers a utilitarian approach, human behavior favors aesthetics. After humanity advanced and African cultures grew more complex, the biological advantages of such a hair type became a secondary concern, although it was never forgotten.
Instead, hair acquired a plethora of other roles within the many different communities and cultures that thrived within the continent. Taking care of its health was always of utmost importance. Each hairstyle developed in response to environmental factors, available resources, and social ranking and privilege.
Haircare is a language of its own
Since Afro-textured hair requires plenty of care to nourish and showcase its beauty, it’s only natural it evolved into a staple of African cultures.
Long before European colonization globalized the dehumanization and slavery of Black people in Africa, every culture in the continent has used hair care and hair rituals as a social tool. It evolved from being something meant to protect one’s head into an elaborate, pseudo-ritualistic everyday life aspect.
Since taking care of Afro-textured hair requires intensive time, effort, and resources, African societies decided to give it a level of importance that matched the investment it usually needed. As such, hairstyles in Africa became more than just fashion—they were a language of its own.
Such was its importance that you could receive a message by merely looking at someone’s hairstyle. The way someone did their hair within a particular society was akin to showcasing an ID. Subsequently, you could tell a lot about an individual by merely glancing at their hair—tribe, gender, social and marital status, role within their particular society, and even more.
In this sense, the styling of African hair carried several layers of importance. Failing to live up to the haircare standards of one’s given position within their respective culture would mean to defy society’s norms, making the individual the target of criticism and, perhaps, turn them into a pariah.
Western Africa, in particular, deemed abysmal haircare practices as a lack of mental wellness and flagged the individual as someone better avoided, an unsuitable partner, and essentially someone not worth having within the community.
Then, haircare served several purposes within African societies, varying slightly—or significantly—according to culture and geographical location.
Hairstyle and haircare according to origins
As it happens with the rest of the world, native African cultures, tribes, and societies develop distinctive hairstyles and hair care routines according to the characteristics of the area they thrive in. Subsequently, two cultures that may otherwise appear identical develop vastly different hairstyles and habits.
For example, the OvaHimba women are well-known for covering their body and hair in otjize paste—a mixture of animal fat and ochre pigments. Their hair, then, acquires a very distinctive braid-like aesthetic with a reddish hue.
But while this is currently the beauty standard within the culture, this is just a haircare measure evolved from necessity. In the dry environment of their native Kaokoland region, water scarcity is an issue for the OvaHimba. As such, the otjize paste developed from a need to cleanse and protect the body and hair in the absence of water.
Similarly, the Hamar people in Ethiopia make use of ochre pigments to protect their bodies and hair. Despite the immense geographical separation, both groups developed similar techniques due to the analogous climate.
While it was relatively easy to identify a tribe or culture by their haircare items and customs, sometimes it is possible to be more specific. In their book Hair Story: Untangling the Roots of Black Hair in America, Ayana Byrd and Lori Tharps affirm that in some cases, it was even possible to determine a person’s surname through their hairstyle, as each family and clan would develop their hair braiding, combing, or styling techniques.
However, one item remains universal and quintessential in nearly every single African culture across the continent—combs, and oils.
The importance of the comb within Africa’s history cannot be underestimated, as it was the quintessential tool to detangle and style coil-shaped hair. Its wide-tooth design would be gentle on the scalp, and they often showcased intricate engravings and signs that would identify it according to clan or family.
Hair expressing hierarchy and social status:
Beyond communicating your culture and tribe, perhaps the most important message that could be conveyed through hair styling is that of status and hierarchy within society.
Due to the costly investment—of time and money—required to achieve healthy, flourishing hair, the best hair care treatments and tools were reserved for those with a higher social status.
This standard would also apply to headdresses. Marie-Armand Pascal de Castera-Macaya d’Avezac, a 19th-century French anthropologist, pointed out this phenomenon when describing the hair habits of the Ijebu people in Guinea. He wrote that the common folk would often go bareheaded, while the king wore an elaborate and large headdress made of coral beads, leather, and other exquisite decorations. It was not an exclusive aspect of this culture—in many other African societies, only royalty and high-ranking individuals could have the privilege of wearing ornaments on their hair, often made of expensive materials.
But hairstyles did not only differentiate between social classes but also between roles within the community itself. The Asante—also called Ashanti—priests were the only ones allowed to grow their hair into long, thick locks, a hairstyle called mpesempese. As such, this hairstyle would make them easily identifiable amongst their peers.
Beards displayed equal importance, particularly grey ones, signifying both the age and the wisdom of the man. Subsequently, a thick grey beard would highlight a man’s role as an elder who must be heard within the community.
Hair to establish beauty and fertility:
While haircare carries significant importance to both men and women in most African cultures, it tends to be a quintessential aspect of femininity. Usually, there are strict styling steps that establish what is socially acceptable for women within each group.
As elsewhere in the world, within African cultures, women are subjected to strict beauty standards, and many of those are heavily related to the health, length, thickness, and styling of hair. According to anthropologist Sylvia Ardyn Boone, the Mende culture in Sierra Leone associates long, thick hair in women with fertility, prosperity, and health. As such, women take specific care of protecting the thickness and fullness of their hair, keeping them in healthy long braids.
However, long thick hair isn’t always the norm for women. For the Maasai people in Kenya and Tanzania, women’s beauty standards require a shaved head. Instead, the warrior men display power through long, thick braids they must shave off after retiring and reaching elderly age.
Styling Afro-textured hair in Africa also carried messages regarding the sexual and romantic availability of women. Girls of marriageable age would often showcase a particular hairstyle until marriage when they’d shift to what is ostensibly a more conservative type of aesthetic. Finally, widows and older women would also enjoy a specific hairdo—or the lack thereof—to denote their grief or wisdom
This type of division is quite visible in the Wolof culture from Senegal and West Africa. Byrd and Tharps explain how young Wolof girls would partially shave their hair to display their status as children that were unavailable for courting or marriage. Once of age, they would style their hair in beautiful puffs and braids as a coquettish sign towards potential suitors. On the other hand, widows were expected to have their hair unkempt and messy—grief should not allow for grooming, and they shouldn’t look beautiful to other men.
In many cultures, haircare was a gendered and even sexual activity. Most cultures in West Africa used to, in the past, relegate hair grooming to people of the same gender, as the opposite could be highly inappropriate, perhaps even scandalous, if the parties involved were not husband and wife or family members.
Hair as a spiritual asset:
Coil-shaped hair grows upwards, unlike curly, wavy, or straight hair. As such, it increases the height of the person as it grows longer.
Men and women in African cultures noticed this phenomenon. They perceived that such an elevated hair shape made them closer to the sky and everything it represented—deities, spirituality, and everything divine.
As such, hair was not just hair—it was the connection point between the earthly body and the high spirits. As if they were some sort of divine wires, African religions, myths, and traditions believe that information from the gods would travel through the hair and reach the skull. Subsequently, well-groomed hair would also mean the individual has the ability to receive spiritual messages, which implies a healthy and pure soul.
Some religions and cultures have specific beliefs about hair. Professor Augustine Agwuele explains that for the Yoruba people in Nigeria, knotted hair carries a double meaning—it is a sign of danger and instability on adults, but it’s a miracle on babies. Children born with tangled hair are considered dada—spiritual, blessed beings and signs of good luck that must shave their hair before puberty in a special ritual.
Other cultures have different beliefs, of course. Senegalese professor Mohamed Mbodj affirms that the priests and devotees of certain Yoruba gods and goddesses would always braid and style their hair in a particular way, as the hair is the closest to the divine due to being the most elevated part of the body.
On a darker take of the hair’s spiritual power, Mbodj explains that dark spells and incantations only require a single strand of the recipient’s hair to acquire power in certain religions. Likewise, Wolof tradition says that women can also cast love spells on their hair by challenging their spiritual energy, therefore rendering men powerless against their charms.
In short, hair in Africa was a sign of not only spiritual health but also of the gods’ blessings, and it required particular care and love.
Hair grooming as a social activity:
Hair was not just hair—it was social status, beauty, and connection to the gods. As such, taking care of hair required exceptional care, trust, and dedication, and hair grooming was a quintessential aspect of daily life in African societies.
Notably, due to Afro-textured hair’s intricacies and complexities, grooming, and styling, it has never been a solo activity. It has always required the help and assistance of trusted family members or community individuals specialized in hair care.
In the latter’s case, many cultures had a hairdressing specialist, who often enjoyed high status within society. They were high-ranking individuals who reveled in immense privileges, as they were deemed trustworthy enough to handle and style such a significant element, who was frequently not quite manageable.
Byrd and Tharps highlight that the hairstyling process could last a few days and, much like today, it involved a series of steps including washing, combing, nourishing with oils and other ointments, braiding, twisting, knotting, and styling with any addendum typical of the cultural. These elaborate steps would often require exceptional talent, which is why hairdressers were such valuable members of society, and keep that status nowadays.
For example, the Yoruba people would encourage all young girls to learn how to style hair. However, the exceptionally talented ones would grow to become a so-called “master”—the community’s hairdresser. Usually, a community would only have one “master,” and they would pass on their secrets, tools, and tricks onto the next one on the line through an intricate religious ceremony.
Likewise, Professor Mbodj explains that children would get assigned a hairdresser at birth in the Wolof culture, based on family dynamics and bonds. From then on, the bond between the individual and the hairdresser could not be broken except by death.
Not all cultures relied on hairdressers to style hair, however. Frequently, it was a social act and a bonding ritual between family members or close friends.
For example, for the Mende culture, one of the standard ways of offering friendship to someone was to ask to braid their hair. Anthropologist Boone explains that for Mende women—much like in Western society—gathering to braid their hair was a social activity between friends, in which they engaged in fun conversations and bonded together.
No Hair Like African Hair:
Far from being a chore, hair grooming in Africa is a gratifying activity associated with their culture. In fact, Namibian photographer Tuva Wolf explains that in the Bantu language Oshindonga, the word for braiding, panda, is synonymous with happiness.
The importance given to hair grooming in Africa is near unparalleled, and such a trait persists today in Black people all across the world. The majestic beauty of African hair care practices continues today with well-known styles such as Bantu Knots, Senegalese and Nubian Twists, amongst many others.
Within Africa, coily Type 4 is not and has never been a matter of shame or something associated with a lack of beauty. Quite the opposite, actually—it was considered nothing short of a blessing from the gods and proof of health, talent, strength, and courage.
Sadly, it is an astonishing contrast with current global perceptions of beauty—even within Black communities and neighbors. So-called “nappy” hair is a struggle, and those born with softer curls are deemed lucky.
But these beauty standards did not come to be spontaneously. They are the apparent result of colonization and the imposition of European values and perceptions to the detriment of Black people’s self-esteem and self-worth.
And, much like most of the evils faced by Black people, it started with slavery.
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