Despite the protests I see on social media stating that we are all 'sick of hearing about this'. The fact that we keep memeing it to death, dissecting every moment, and grilling every Hot Take tells a very different story. There is a lot about this incident that warrants revisiting, and with the news that Smith has been hit with a 10-year ban from the Oscars, (never mind that far worse behaviour has gone excused over the years) it is clear that the discussion surrounding his behaviour at the 2022 Oscars is not going away anytime soon. After over two decades in the public eye, we expect a man with the cultivated persona of Will Smith to hit back with a pithy comment, not an open palm. After producing a documentary tackling the stigma surrounding black hair, we expect Chris Rock to acknowledge the choices a black woman makes surrounding her hair with more creativity and nuance.
Over this month I have found myself far more interested in what’s behind the slap than the slap itself. Why, after apparently laughing at the joke, Smith then turned around to see his wife’s unimpressed face. There’s a conversation here that’s being overshadowed by sensationalism. Alopecia in women. Something I later learned Jada has been quite vocal about this past year. Did most of us even know this was a thing she had been struggling with? I don’t think so. Anecdotally, I spent the next few days explaining this detail to my friends and family. Funny, since like most people, I didn’t even know that Jada Pinkett Smith was suffering from alopecia until that night. The slap and subsequent exchange brought this into context- without which the joke would have likely passed us by, unremarkable but for Jada’s side-eye, and certainly not the viral sensation we now have on our hands.
A lot of friends and family members have asked me, their resident minority, how I feel about the situation, and I am reminded of a quote from Emma Daburi’s Don’t Touch My Hair: “just like our tempers, my hair was too difficult to control”. That black men and women constantly find themselves trying to disprove the myth that we are somehow more animalistic; unruly and lacking in sophistication- not only mentally, but also physically. Before I was able to authentically assess my thoughts on the situation, I felt pressured to condemn Smith's actions, for fear of being labelled violent and unruly myself. I am reminded of the fact that we may never slip out of that narrow definition of what a “good” PoC looks like for fear of dragging down the whole community. Just as the slap was not just a slap, black hair never gets to be 'just hair'.
Alopecia
A quick visit to alopecia.org.uk reveals that there are no less than NINE different types of alopecia– three of which are likely the most familiar –
Chemotherapy Induced – caused by chemo treatments attacking all cells in the body- not just cancerous ones.
Androgenetic – also known as male pattern baldness, caused dihydrotestosterone.
Traction- caused by heavy hairstyles and chemical treatments (such as hair straightening).
So why don’t we talk about it?
Why is it so shameful to lose our hair to the point that we are unable to acknowledge it? Especially in a community where it is becoming increasingly common? Perhaps because we live in a world where a lot of women are made to feel that their looks are their greatest currency, and so the loss of our hair becomes a daunting prospect. We are expected at all times to be a soft, slender, fair-skinned, and silky haired vixens. That’s not to say that men don’t also face stigma when they go bald, but it is something men can talk about openly. It’s something women hardly dare to acknowledge.
A woman shaving her head is often viewed as a political statement. Something one does in rebellion, rather than as an expression of authentic self. Look no further than Sinead O’Connor or Eve Salvail, whose hairstyles were widely derided in the 90s. Yet go back further still and you will find Audrey Hepburn and Twiggy’s iconic pixie cuts- two women who were considered the epitome of style in their respective times.
This political angle appears to be inescapable for black women - whose hair is overly politicised no matter what style we chose much in the way that our bodies and actions are. The bodies of women, in particular black women, have always come under scrutiny while Caucasian women are deemed to epitome of femininity- for a popular example, look no further than Kim Kardashians ‘internet breaking’ homage to Sarah Baartman.
Black women face pressure to conform to a standard of beauty dictated by white womanhood. This pressure leads us to mistreat our hair, resulting in traction alopecia, caused by years of heat, chemicals, extensions and weaves that pull at the hair root. Even when we embrace our natural texture, we are still vulnerable to pulling up our roots with overly tight braids and dreadlocks as we continue to chase this sleek and flawless version of ourselves. While O’Connor and Salvail may have faced scrutiny, their reasoning stands apart from that of Grace Jones who has since suggested that the initial choice to shave her head came from a desire to untether herself from the narrow definition of black womanhood “I was black, but not black; woman, but not woman”.
Now today, we have Jada Pinkett-Smith, a controversial figure in her own right, reduced to her appearance because she has failed to live up to this imagined standard of femininity.
Traditionally, long hair on a woman is associated with wealth, vitality, and above all, femininity. Which forces us to ask- what do we stand to lose without our hair? And why?
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