I’ve never had a problem with spending time on my hair. I look forward to writing off a whole day of my week. I wash, deep condition, moisturise and twist it. If I feel like styling it into box braids the following day, I’ll do so. If I get tired halfway through that day, I’ll gladly spend a third day finishing off the braids. To me, nothing is lost in this process.
So, the rhetoric of Black hair being ‘time-consuming’, especially to the detriment of the Black woman, frustrates me. While it provides a justification for protective styling; to avoid doing our hair on a largely regular basis due to busy schedules, and to keep it safe from weather above the equator, I fear that protective styling is transforming into the avoidance of fully embracing our hair. To spend more time protecting than allowing it to just be, makes me wonder exactly what it’s being protected for.
“I see the time required to do our hair as something that should not be overlooked, avoided or ‘fixed’. It brings into question the position of Black hair within the context of time, and how Black people should approach it.”
I see the time required to do our hair as something that should not be overlooked, avoided or ‘fixed’. It brings into question the position of Black hair within the context of time, and how Black people should approach it. Is our hair and the time it requires to care for and style it, indicative of the need for us to restructure our linear approach to time itself?
The discomfort I have with cutting down the time it takes is highlighted in Emma Dabiri’s book, Don’t Touch My Hair. She writes about Black hair in an indigenous context. Hair styling, braiding and artifice were additional modes of socialising among Africans before European interruptions such as the transatlantic slave trade, colonisation and capitalism were popularised.
There was, is, and shall forever be a communal element to African and African-diasporic hairstyling. It’s an activity during which we can commune and talk about personal life, politics, and community issues; to appreciate those around us, and relax. Further, I’ve found that styling my own hair is a much needed time to spend with myself.
“Recently, when people ask what I’ve been up to, my answer has been “I’m prioritising relaxation and enjoyment”. It’s no exaggeration, and it goes deeper than any act of romanticised self-care.”
To me, this further represents an issue of the commodification of time, and how the rushing and postponing of pleasure ultimately devalues it. In the West we talk about self-preservation and being intentional with leisure and pleasure, as a sort of revelational tool for liberation in the 21st century – a much needed break from the toils of goal-setting and capitalism. Yet, as Dabiri emphasised, there’s a history behind Blackness that always placed the greatest importance on this. I’m reclaiming it.
A lot of us have also framed this pandemic as an opportunity to take a step back, rest, and re-evaluate. Recently, when people ask what I’ve been up to, my answer has been “I’m prioritising relaxation and enjoyment”. It’s no exaggeration, and it goes deeper than any act of romanticised self-care.
“My question is, why can’t haircare and styling return to being one of the main things to do?”
The modern world has put capitalism at the forefront of everything, with a stylish hat for disguise. However in order for capitalism to work, people need to work. Work in a standard setting requires me to be there for the majority of my week, allowing minimal time for anything I want to do. To effectively commit to this, recreation must be postponed. Time with friends must be spent outside of prescribed hours, along with personal phone calls, lunch, entertainment and, of course, hairstyling.
“I can’t spend too much time on my hair because I have things to do!” people often say. My question is, why can’t haircare and styling return to being one of the main things to do?
“I feel a need to reject the continuation of urgency in my own life, even if it means reclaiming my time by relaxing for a whole week as a reflection of how a Nigerian woman may have relaxed in a village hundreds of years ago.”
African lives were commodified by Western power structures and used as fuel for systems like slavery and capitalism. This has trickled down into our treatment of time and the urgency we have placed on it – urgency that often upholds the very systems that oppress us. But now, I am considering the fact that time need not be urgent at all.
I feel a need to reject the continuation of urgency in my own life, even if it means reclaiming my time by relaxing for a whole week as a reflection of how a Nigerian woman may have relaxed in a village hundreds of years ago. This is a restructuring of frame of mind. Growing up in the UK in the 21st century, it makes sense for me to desire a career, and become a master at my craft. Yet questioning why I have these desires, and why they appear to be the best use of my time has been liberating.
“Living in the UK, where traditional African social structures are alien, will not stop me from spending three days on my hair.”
Perceptions of time do not need to be linear. I do not have to remain in a forward-thinking, career-driven, state of being. A non-linear perception of time may be closer to that of pre-colonised Yorubaland, where the past, present and future were connected in such a way that working tirelessly and relaxing minimally was neither important, nor the optimal way to live. This can be my reality rather than my ideal. If people were living with this outlook in the past, it is not out of my reach in the present.
I have heard a lot about ’embracing roots’, and this is one of the most tangible means of doing so. Living in the UK, where traditional African social structures are alien, will not stop me from spending three days on my hair. If that’s the best I can make out of the position I am in, then so be it. After all, why must restrictions be placed on what I choose to prioritise at any given time?
“I will take the time I have on this earth to explore every style I desire, never thinking twice about how long it will take because my time belongs to me.”
I can no longer accept time consumption as a valid excuse for Black hair not receiving the time and attention it requires on a regular basis. I will take the time I have on this earth to explore every style I desire, never thinking twice about how long it will take because my time belongs to me.
Spending time on haircare is something I will always encourage Black people to welcome with open arms. I see it as a microcosm of the cultural practices that have faded from our communities over time, particularly those in the diaspora. When we ask ourselves what time means to us, how commodified it has become in our hands, and whether we’re willing to reclaim it, we can embrace relaxation and ultimate enjoyment.
Adefela is a 21 year-old Black-British writer from London. @adefelurr
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