Oct. 21, 2019
COLUMBIA, Md.—Barbie dolls were Shanita Byrd’s first experience with hair. She would spend hours altering her barbies’ hairstyles—using house scissors to cut the long, blonde hair different lengths and deciding which looked best.
“You want me to cut your Barbie’s hair?” If her friends’ dolls needed a haircut, Byrd was their girl.
Sitting in a mustard yellow leather chair, one jean-clad knee perched up on a window sill, Byrd remembered that she had to wait a while until her Barbies looked like her, and when they did, their hair was not nearly as silky. It was nappy, and it was ‘natural.’
The natural hair discussion has been in the news recently.
Cincinnati just became the latest city to ban discrimination based on natural hair and hairstyles associated with race on Oct. 9, according to a New York Times article. Cincinnati is the second U.S. city after New York to adopt this ban. This legislation has even reached New York state and California, according to the Times.
“The hair was really way different. It was ugly because it was so coarse, and different than of course the straight hair Barbies,” Byrd recalled. The hair was so different because the Barbies that resembled Byrd were black, while the ones she first played with were white.
Byrd was only 10 when she decided she wanted to be in the beauty industry. Practicing her craft on the rubber dolls’ heads turned into attending a vocational school for hair in Wicomico County, Maryland when she was in 10th grade. She eventually became a certified cosmetologist.
Byrd’s family and friends had no qualms about her attending a beauty school instead of a traditional four-year university.
“Oh Shanita? She does hair,” she fondly remembered her family and friends saying about her. It was no surprise when she opened her own salon in 2012 named Studio A in Columbia, Maryland.
While the wind rushed outside and the dull sound of traffic droned beyond the salon’s glass doors, Byrd emphasized that she was taught to work with all textures of hair—an opportunity many hairdressers did not get, she said.
“It doesn’t matter who you are, or what texture hair… Hair is hair, and it can be done here,” Byrd said.
The hairdresser heard about laws coming into effect in states and cities to ban hair discrimination, but didn’t necessarily trust their effectiveness. Whether a person’s hair is in a dense afro, tight braids or thick locs, it does not tell an employer anything about how well they can do their job, according to Byrd.
“Something that someone naturally grows out of their head, I don’t think that anyone should be able to discriminate against that,” she said.
As with any law, there are loopholes—cracks in the fragile foundation that try to hold up diversity and inclusion—and Byrd believes there are employers out there that will find them and send the whole structure tumbling.
“These laws are for awareness, but that’s about it,” Byrd said.
She even admitted that she has attempted to conceal her 22-year old son’s natural hair. The discrimination he may face for his locs does not phase him. If he wants to wear his locs, he’s going to wear his locs, according to Byrd.
“I’ll tell him, ‘Son you need to change your look because no one is going to hire you with these locs because you could potentially intimidate the clients or customers that are coming in,’” Byrd said.
Sometimes you have to change your look to conform to your environment, and that’s just reality, according to Byrd.
Byrd attributes this concern for her son to her age. For her, it is the next generation that will actually be able to make progress in eradicating discrimination against natural hair.
“The younger generation is not willing to conform to the norm, or what older people say is the norm. Eventually, he [Byrd’s son] will become the person in charge, see their locs and just worry if they will be able to do their job,” she said.
Byrd does not agree with the idea that the “natural hair movement” is what spurred these laws, mostly because of the word “movement.”
“If you choose to wear your hair in its natural state, it shouldn’t be a movement. It should just be what it is,” she said.
Byrd’s black smartphone rang. The ringtone sounded like high-pitched wind chimes. She paused to pick it up, despite not recognizing the number on the screen.
“Okay, let’s do 9 a.m. on Friday. Can you do 9?” She waited. “I’ll do your hair at 9 and have you out hopefully by 10:15… I’ll see you on Friday morning… Bye Bye.” Byrd let out a whoosh of air, relieved that she had managed to schedule her customer’s appointment.
A short, black woman opened the door to the salon, letting in the smell of rain. She waited patiently for Byrd with a soft, tight-lipped smile on her wrinkled face.
Byrd welcomed her warmly, her smile revealing braces on her teeth. She looked happy to be doing what she loves, even if the recent laws won’t quell the discrimination against natural hair.