Hairstyles, history, and the lingering shadow of colonialism
A routine school dispute in Jamaica has unearthed a far deeper, more insidious issue: the enduring legacy of colonial-era grooming standards and their impact on Black identity. Michelle Scott’s frustration – her son pulled from class for his afro – is not an isolated incident, but a symptom of a global problem where natural Black hairstyles remain subject to scrutiny and, often, outright discrimination.
The roots of the regulation
The current controversy stems from Ardenne High School’s grooming guidelines, which mandate “neat, clean, and well-maintained” hair. While seemingly innocuous, such stipulations are inextricably linked to a historical context of subjugation and control, tracing directly back to the transatlantic slave trade. As Olivette Otele, a historian of slavery and memory at the University of Bristol, explains, the systematic shaving of enslaved Africans’ heads was a deliberate tactic—a psychological tool to strip them of their cultural identity and assert dominance. It was a brutal demonstration that their traditions, including hairstyles, were rendered irrelevant and worthless in their new reality as property.
The colonial period saw European authorities further codify these biases, imposing grooming rules that actively discouraged or banned traditional African hairstyles. These weren't simply about hygiene; they were about reinforcing a hierarchy, branding Afro hair as “unprofessional” or “uncivilised” and elevating European standards as the gold standard of respectability. Professor Verene Shepherd of the University of the West Indies notes that these attitudes haven’t simply faded; they’ve been subtly embedded in institutions, influencing school policies and perpetuating a system that disproportionately penalizes Black students.
Beyond jamaica: a diaspora-wide struggle
The Jamaican case is just one ripple in a much larger wave. Similar disputes are erupting across the African and Caribbean diaspora – from schools in Ghana requiring girls to cut their natural hair to incidents in the US where students like Darryl George and Ruby Williams have faced suspension and exclusion for their hairstyles. The struggle extends beyond education, with Damon Landor’s lawsuit against a Louisiana prison for forcibly cutting his locs highlighting the issue’s pervasive reach.
Even in nations like Trinidad and Tobago, where independence was achieved decades ago, the echoes of colonial attitudes persist. A recent incident saw students barred from graduation ceremonies due to their hairstyles, a stark reminder of how deeply ingrained these biases remain. The legacy of chattel enslavement, as Shepherd points out, continues to subtly shape perceptions, often without awareness of its historical roots. The ongoing efforts to secure legal protections, like California’s CROWN Act and the Halo Code in the UK, represent crucial steps toward dismantling these systems of discrimination. But the fight is far from over. As Michelle De Leon, founder of World Afro Day, observes, “The global picture is very mixed.”
France’s recent legislation targeting discrimination based on hairstyle offers a glimmer of hope, and Caribbean islands like Anguilla are pioneering national hair discrimination policies. However, the lingering perception that natural Afro-textured hair must be controlled or altered to be deemed “acceptable” remains a formidable obstacle. Melissa Gumbs, Sint Maarten’s Minister of Education, aptly states that many grooming policies are “traced to subjugating colonial-era standards of appearance.”
The truth is undeniable: the policing of Black hair isn't about neatness; it's about power.