Hair Love for My Little Lady

I knew I was watching something special when I saw the 2020 Oscar-winning Animated Short Hair Love by Matthew A. Cherry and Karen Rupert Toliver. It’s a beautiful short film that shows an African American father struggling to figure out how to do his daughter Zuri’s hair. 

Full disclosure: I’m very susceptible to cinematic crying. This seven-minute film has me on the brink of tears every time I watch it. It isn’t just the showcasing of family love, nor is it the precious moment between Zuri and her mother. There’s something powerful about the message of Zuri loving her beautiful hair—for all of its fierceness and curliness.

For me, this short film is more than just something that entertains. It has special significance for me and my daughter. It has become our routine during the past week to watch the film as I, like the father in the film, try to detangle, condition, and style her hair. I want her, like Zuri, to see her beautiful hair as a source of pride and joy. I hope that one day Autumn will love her hair. 

I admit I was mildly afraid of Autumn’s hair from the moment my husband and I found out we were having a girl. It may have been my third thought after we saw the pink in our reveal cake.

Thought 1:  “Wow. I can’t believe I am having a girl.”

Thought 2: “Andre was totally right.” (He’d been sure we were having a girl from the moment the pregnancy test came back positive.)

Thought 3: “Her hair… that’s going to be a challenge.”

Some context: I’m white. My husband is black.

More context: I grew up in a small town in Ohio. In my high school, white students made up roughly 80% of the student body. Although I don’t think I intended to isolate myself, my closest friends in middle and high school were all white. I didn’t have any close friends who were black. I think it’s the reality for many small towns in America, but from neighborhoods to tables in the school cafeteria, people can still find themselves divided along racial lines. 

My first close relationship with an African American family came from Andre and his family when they welcomed me into their home. Andre’s dad was stationed at NATO with the U.S. Army. I lived with the Clayburn family during the summer between my sophomore and junior year. Besides all of the adventures in Europe with our friends, some of my favorite moments were spending time with the Clayburns. We went on family bike rides, played intense rounds of Settlers of Catan, ate delicious Belgian waffles with extra Nutella, and lived life together. 

That summer was also my first glimpse into the sometimes painful process of styling curly hair. I still remember Andre’s brother, Andrew, grimacing as he endured hours of braiding for cornrows. Andre’s sister, Erica, watched with a knowing smile. She’d spent the majority of her childhood squirming through intense detangling, styling, and braiding. To this day, Andre’s mom still shares her vivid memories of battling Erica’s hair.

With my limited hairstyling experience (at least I could french braid), I admit I was nervous about Autumn’s hair. It was more than just wanting her hair to look pretty. I was worried I’d be judged as a white mom who didn’t know anything about curly, mixed hair. I wanted to find the right routine to help her hair be strong and healthy. I wanted her to learn to love her curls. I wanted her hair care to be a moment of mother-daughter bonding…

Well, like most of motherhood, the journey presented many unexpected obstacles, as well as opportunities to grow. As Autumn’s beautiful curls started to lengthen, my lessons in hair care began. At first, she’d scream and cry as I tried to detangle dry hair with a brush (a terrible strategy as I now know). I consulted the internet for vlogs and blogs about mixed hair. I reached out to a military spouse friend with five beautiful daughters with curly mixed hair. I asked my mother-in-law for tips.

It was a process. In a desperate moment around her second birthday, I even cut some of the tangles from her “kitchen” (the hair at the nape of the neck that tends to tangle the easiest). Some days I’d leave the house feeling embarrassed about the ponytail that held clearly unconditioned and tangled curls. On days when I didn’t style her hair, I felt pangs of inadequacy when I picked her up from the CDC and saw her teacher expertly styled and braided it. 

I often say that motherhood has been the most challenging and humbling experience of my life. But the moments of tension and feeling inadequate have stretched me and forged me into someone who is stronger, kinder, and less prideful than the person I once was.

Autumn’s hair care is just a small portion of the larger journey of raising her.

Along this journey, I’ve tried to recognize when I’m ignorant. I’ve begun to accept and come to peace with my shortcomings. I’ve learned from people with more experience. As I continue along, I try to remember this is a neverending process. There will be peaks and valleys, moments when I feel like I’ve arrived followed by moments I realize I’ve been walking in the wrong direction. 

Now that she’s 3, Autumn and I have a pretty solid hair routine. After her bath, she sits on my lap as I gently condition and detangle her curls. Every once in a while, she whips her head around and glares when I tug too hard at a tangle. But we’ve developed a certain agreement, a trust. She’ll patiently wait as I style her hair and I’ll do my best to braid quickly and painlessly. I love the moment when we finish her hair and she runs to the mirror to do a dance and spin around. She runs to Andre and asks him to look at her pretty hair. I love that she’s learning to love her curls and herself for all of the things that make her my special little lady.

In both hair care and the larger journey of raising Autumn, I appreciate the moments of encouragement. As Zuri’s mother says, “The road ahead might look rough, but you can make the journey with a little bit of work and a whole lot of love.” 

And if you haven’t seen Hair Love, I absolutely recommend it! You can watch it for free on YouTube.