Un-Nappily Happy/Happily Nappy

By Leatha J. Patton

I have concealed my bad side
That relaxed! Becomes my good side,
As crowned with a precarious pride,
I’m endorsed by society, made bona fide!

Naked, exposed, is being real,
But because of how I’m made to feel
Dictates that I hide by being straight,
That I succumb, adjust, and capitulate.

Good hair/bad hair situations
Possess opposite connotations.
Negative/positive—both are relative,
Engage my mind to debate the superlative.

Historical voyages of slave ships for scores,
Sailed the Middle Passage to American shores,
To continue a diabolical, soul-wrenching trek,
Find sisters head wrapped to the napes of their necks.

Recalling conflicting and desirous memories of the past
While dwelling in a foreign land, a lowly existence, outcast
Faced with present horrors, desperate, mental retreats to roam
In times when intact, beautiful, in possession of a comb!

Once again to more modern times, unhappy times
That finds CEOs profiteering, engineering the rhymes
With rappers compromising for the love of money,
Pimp us! It’s bitch, ho though they know it’s not funny.

Come on, my misled sisters!—if paid, they’re dollars so few,
Gyrating, your buttocks spread for the world to view.
Generating controversy, ridicule, crowned on a throne
Which none other dares ascend: Girl, you’re on your own!

Let’s get real, sisters all, nappy or straight.
Let us scrutinize our state and thoroughly evaluate
Our image—brothers too!—demonized on the world stage,
That will inflame yet another historical page.

Will actions chose obliterate a new and brighter day?
Black America, can we discover and direct a better way
To heighten our aspirations, or do we opt to seal our fate?
Aim high, Black America, Change!—for our ancestors’ sake.


In the mid-60’s, going natural (becoming naked to the world), if not the craze, was common. Almost every person, male and female, encountered on the Chicago streets briefly bonded with me in our new found dignity as we proudly exchanged smiles. They would greet me with:

“Hello, Sister.”

The Civil Rights struggle had ushered in an uncanny solidarity that has not occurred since. I still treasure that era, can yet recall it with mental clarity and bitter-sweet nostalgia.

The first time I left my house without my facade (straightened hair), I boarded the bus and two young black ladies were sitting in the front of the bus. One told the other:

“My God, I will never wash my hair again.”

Pretending not to hear, my stolen glimpse was not enough to see what they actually looked like, but I remember that statement just as clear as if it happened yesterday. For six to seven years thereafter, I wore my hair in its natural state. My sister, who led the way, God rest her soul, wore her hair natural until her death in 1969. But a few years later, I deserted what had become a fragile fold and again allowed my natural state to once more retreat and recline. The terminology of the cosmetologists is relaxed/relaxer, which always brings to mind a state of calm.

It was during that time that some employers refused to hire persons with naturals, prompting employment agencies to be pressured into phoning ahead to ascertain the status of the potential employer—receptive or non-receptive. Some would not even grant interviews to anyone without the suitable coiffure. Not too long ago, a small war was raging and some of the employers became engaged in lawsuits around the issue of black hair. Thus, it is now quite common to see black women donning natural hair—braids, twists, short naturals, some locks. The locks are still not as common as the other styles and worn mostly by educators or those holding positions independent of corporate America.

I admire the Rutgers University females, but I cannot ignore the fact that each and every one of them made sure their hair was mainstream to the nth degree—poker straight—for their press conference! This is quite understandable and reinforced even at our own universities. A few years ago, Howard University upheld the standard that non-straightened hair was unacceptable for any young lady that desired to participate as a cheerleader or pom-pom girl. How about that!!

Black people had an extremely difficult time in the Western Hemisphere for centuries regarding their hair. By the way, the slaveholders, upon the arrival of Africans to this hemisphere, shaved their heads, male and female. On the Continent, shaved heads represented a state of mourning, captivity, or slavery; the latter two rendered stark validation to our new status. Three books on the subject of black hair are listed at the end of this article. Let me also inform the reader that hair straightening in our race is a late phenomenon that never occurred before we landed on this piece of real estate. In Africa, we wore locks, braids, and other hairstyles. Additionally, because of the extensive use of harsh chemicals, Black women are now losing their hair. The April 9, 2007 edition of Jet carried an article entitled Salon Owner Takes Lessons of Love and Cosmetology to Sierra Leone. However, in my opinion, the word 'love’ should be excluded. I consider this enterprise currently being launched a negative Pan-African business venture that will influence and engage those receptive in the East, potentially lucrative for both the East and the West. My question is: Are we, as Africans in America, now expanding and broadening the base, and will it be practiced to the extreme as it is here to cause as much hair loss on the Continent? Well, I’ll leave that alone and move on.

We further compound and internalize our degradation, both male and female, by spewing debase terms, either to or about each other, such as: bitch, ho or hoe (whore), nigga or niggah (nigger), and every other derogatory name imaginable. There is another name the brothas now trade back and forth among themselves—dog or dawg—after that four-legged canine creature which automatically identifies the female counterpart as…exactly! These kinds of labels leave the door more than ajar for the Don Imuses of the world to promote equally racism and sexism. This ‘dog/dawg’ phenomenon presented one brother who works at a Chicagoland fire station with a problem. His white co-workers put dog food in his meal and of course he was outraged as he should have been. But what right-thinking male would refer to himself as a dog? Now, that one is a far reach. However, no matter how we choose to spell our debasement or nicknames, the implications remain the same, and most resurrect all the cultural and racial assaults that have been with us ever since the first boat docked, while in this new millennium we refuse to discard the baton. When are we going to toss away the baton and, therefore, cancel the race that we cannot win?

Okay, back to this nappy situation. My parents taught me that there are so many naps per square inch—on rugs, not our heads. Admixtures and a vast amount of miscegenation (the slave masters raping Black women) has resulted in black hair encompassing a wide range of textures, although the vast majority of black hair falls neatly into the category of what Black people have decided to retain from slavery days, um, nappy. (In case you would like to know, in Australia the word nappy is a diaper!) I have never been able to come to terms with that word. Perhaps because of my upbringing I was never taught to categorize hair. (As a thorny sidebar for the reader, my maternal grandmother had wavy hair past her shoulders and my mother’s hair was long and wiry straight, never springy and drawing up typically close to the head as mines does.) Curly, kinky, wavy, wiry, course, soft, semi-straight, long hair/short hair, whatever!—I challenge Black people, especially Black women, to prove to me we have ‘bad’ hair. Originally, lye-based straighteners—I repeat, lye-based, now replaced by chemicals that are as equally harsh, enable us to hide our true selves. Thus, we constantly avoid exercising, swimming, the rain, don shower caps when we shower, just to maintain our relaxed state. However, prove to me, ladies, we possess bad/inferior hair that withstands the harsh treatment we subject it to without follicle damage. I contend there is not one thing ‘bad’ about it since it remains inanimate and cannot cause incarceration except in our minds.

Okay, back to Square One. In most cases, there comes a time when the relaxed hair of a Black female, especially one that doesn’t allow a peeking crimp to cramp her style, needs a recess. She then resorts to weaves, braids, naturals, and wigs. When that time comes, perhaps she should check out Pamela Ferrell’s Let’s Talk Hair and be pleasantly surprised at the various hairstyles that can be accomplished without chemicals. Granted, our ancient ancestors wore wigs, but from what I have read, only occasionally, and mostly resulting from old-age baldness, male and female alike. The locks and braids worn by our ancient ancestors are displayed on the pyramids of Kemet (Egypt.) Locks are spoken of in the Holy Bible; Samson wore them (Judges 16:13 & 19).

Listed below are three books, one briefly mentioned above, with more information on black hair:

1. Byrd, Ayana D. & Lori L. Tharps. Hair Story: Untangling the Roots of Black Hair in America. St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York,NY, 2001.

2. Ferrell, Pamela. Let’s Talk Hair. Cornrows & Co.,Inc., 5401
Fourteenth Street NW, Washington, DC, 1996.

3. Worthy, R.L. About Black Hair. Kornerstone Books, 6947 Coal Creek Pkwy., Suite 206, Newcastle,WA, 2006.