Tired and Toned Arms: Black Women and Their Part Time Jobs

A couple days ago I was balls deep into doing my hair before work. I started at 11:23, and I had work at 5, so basically I had to make sure I was out of here by 4. I was attempting to put the smallest possible twists in my hair, and I had convinced myself that I had done it before in 3 hours. I had done it before, but the twists were bigger, and my hair was much shorter.

I’m going and going, twisting with adequate force that I thought would get me through. My arms were tired, and I made one row along my head and realized I was NOWHERE NEAR DONE. Not even halfway. It had been an hour and I wasn’t halfway through. I was keeping track by recording little videos to show my progress, as if I’m a Youtuber (maybe soon who knows).

Then I thought “okay I have to keep going” because again, in my delusional “I can do all and everything” manner, I thought this was something light. I kept going, and my mom, the hair styling goddess, came into my room to talk to me and sit down. She was there for a while watching me. At some point she noticed me twisting with even more force and speed. At a certain point she said “you know if you won’t finish, you could always do that black girl trick of doing the front and the sides, and hiding the unfinished hair in a bun.” I knew of this trick because I’m black and my mom had done this to my hair plenty of times while I was growing up. But again I was insistent on finishing.

At a certain point, my mom was like “Do you need help??” I kept on refusing because I am someone who struggles with asking for help, so instead of listening, she got up, took the sparkly comb, and started parting twists and helping me. She was going at it faster than I ever could in this lifetime. Literally a master at her craft.

My goal was to finish on my own at 3:3o, but of course I had help and finished at that time. Let’s be honest, I was never going to finish on time. It was a cute fantasy. My mom helped me with a little less than half my head. So I got up, thanked her profusely, and then got ready for work.

On my way I thought:

“damn, we really have to go through this??”

Hair is nearly a daily topic of conversation amongst black people.

Not a day goes by where I don’t hear conversations among family or friends about hair care products, the stress of having to do our hair, and just talking about past experiences. It’s always cool to hear older people talk about their hair journeys, and funny stories of them almost not making it somewhere just like me. It brings us together because it is so significant in our lives. Even for the simplest of hair styles, it takes black women 5+ hours to wash, carefully take care of, and style their hair. I grew up with intensely thick and fast growing hair, so It takes me probably at least 9, or two days. We are so used to the time it takes to do our hair and knowing how taxing the process is, that it really is a sort of struggle we can bond over because no one else would get it.

“How are you going to do your hair for your interview” and “oh I get my hair braided on 121st in Harlem, the stylist’s name is Titi” are just so usual for us because we love trying to help each other out, as well as sharing our experiences. It really feels like talking about work with coworkers all the time.

If we didn’t do our hair, we wouldn’t be acceptable in society.

The reason that so much stress comes from doing our hair (other than the fact that it makes you a bodybuilder from the effort) Is because our society for centuries has told us our hair is unacceptable. Black women always had to straighten their hair to look decent despite not having safe heat tools back in the 70s and 80s, risking being severely burned and giving their hair irreversible heat damage. There are more tools to prevent these things now, and a wider range of hair styles are “deemed acceptable” for most workplaces. Even so, black girls are looked at differently because of their hair. If you don’t have straight hair that isn’t a wig, or extremely neat braids that simulate long straight hair, it is likely you won’t be respected. Even with my often sported Afro, which is mostly respected and praised when I go outside, I still get people who try and size me up. It seems sometimes no matter what we do, we can’t catch a break.

The physically taxing aspect that can’t be overstated.

When my mom helped me with my hair, I couldn’t help but wince, having to twist my spine and hold my head back, as I stuck my arms forward to do my side of my head. We as the people who get it done talk about the pain of being little and getting our heads yanked on, and how some of us were overly dramatic about it (hi), but then when it’s time to do the hair ourselves? It’s a completely different ball game. The literal physical labor of combing through all the hairs on my head and putting them into 8 sections just to keep some order, and feeling lightheaded and sore in my arms, is no joke. And we all have to do this to keep a sense of normalcy and respect in our lives. I dream about not having to go through pain whether on my head or in my body, and it even made me shave-my-head-happy ( I did it 3 times).

All in all I love my hair, and I have recently started taking better care of it. I’ve realized that it is and will be a huge part of my life, taking up significant parts of my time each week. I could either hate that and do my hair, or appreciate it and all the satisfaction it brings when I finish. Either way there’s no way of getting out of it so it’s better to embrace it, because even having half an inch of hair is so much work. At this point I need to be a hair styling Youtuber, and make this into a real job.

To all my black girls and girls with curly hair, what are your favorite hair products? I’m trying to branch out.