In his documentary "Good Hair," Chris Rock explores the complicated world of black women and our relationship with our hair.
The project was inspired by Rock's desire to understand why his young daughter asked him why she didn't have "good hair." As the movie began, he posed a question to the audience: "Hmm, I wonder where she got that idea?" The remainder of the film documents his journey as he tries to answer that question.
For me, the question was answered pretty early. In one of the first scenes of the movie, Rock runs his hands through the hair of a woman who has just had dangerous chemicals put in her hair to straighten it — a practice Rock spends significant energy in the film criticizing for its health risks — and coos that he wants to marry her because he can run his fingers through her hair without getting them caught in nappy, natural curls.
"Oh," I thought to myself. "She got that idea from you."
I hoped that was going to be the punch line: That on his journey to examine where his daughter got her negative ideas about her hair, Rock would realize how much of the problem was the way he embraced and subtly passed on those same ideas.
I was disappointed that, despite all the finger-pointing in the movie, Rock didn't turn any of the exploration to himself in particular, or to black men in general.
Rock's journey took him to beauty shops where black women use lye to turn their natural hair silky straight, and pay small fortunes to glue the hair of other women to their heads. It took him to corporations where he explored the multibillion-dollar industry that profits from telling black women that their natural hair is something to be ashamed of. It took him to the fashion industry that perpetuates a white standard of beauty and encourages black women to strive to make their hair look as little like black hair as possible. It took him to India, where most of the hair purchased by black women for weaves originates.
India. He traveled across the globe to understand how his daughter views her natural hair before he ever looked in the mirror.
In one particularly telling scene, Rock stands in a barber shop with a number of black men joking about how difficult it is to date a woman with a weave because she won't let her boyfriend touch her hair. As they lament the fact that they are not allowed to run their fingers through their girlfriends' hair, one points out the irony: The only black women who let them touch their hair are those who wear their hair natural, and because of the texture of natural black hair, they can't get their fingers through that hair.
As they joked about getting their fingers caught in unstraightened, weave-free black hair, I waited for Rock to point out the hypocrisy of what they were doing.
Just like the women in the film who were held up to scrutiny for not loving their natural hair, these men had internalized the idea that the ideal is smooth, silky hair that a man can run his fingers through. They too have embraced a white standard of beauty and expect black women to conform — and then they judge women for doing so.
"Good Hair" didn't get it wrong; it just didn't get it completely right. It's true that the dominant standard of beauty that is embraced by too many black women tells us that we should try to look as white as we can. It's also true that a lot of people make a lot of money capitalizing on the cultural insecurity of black women. And it's tragic to think about the money black women spend to put our health at risk in order to change the way we look.
But it's disingenuous to pretend that we have no idea where these impulses come from when a group of black men can stand around a barber shop making fun of black women with natural hair.
"Good Hair" could have been great. Unfortunately, instead of exploring the role of both black men and women in the perpetuation of a damaging standard of beauty within our community, the film ultimately tells black women that our issues with our hair are all in our heads.
Maya Rupert is an attorney in downtown Los Angeles. She has previously contributed to the San Francisco Chronicle, as well as other publications. Her column explores issues of race, gender and politics and appears in the L.A. Watts Times regularly. She can be reached at maya.rupert@gmail.com.
Photo from 'Good Hair'
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