My Hair Isn't Damaged, But Your Perceptions Are
My Hair Isn't Damaged, But Your Perceptions Are
Growing up in Southeast Asia, where hair product shelves were filled with keratin shampoos and conditioners, I began to think that I was just not “taking care of it [my hair] enough.”
The thick chemical scent of ammonia-like substance persisted in the air.
Where was it coming from? My very own hair. The formaldehyde smell of the hair perm would cling to my hair for the next 2 days. The scent, though disorienting, I believed, could reorient the proper style and texture of hair I had longed to have.
My straight hair perm took longer than expected and cost way more than I’d like to remember. For the next year or so, my hair was pin-straight, looking as alive as the shiny plastic hairs of Barbie dolls.
“Have you ever brushed your hair before?” my friends jokingly teased.
“Your hair looks a little puffy today. You should try to use keratin conditioner, maybe that would help,” one casually mentioned with the naive intention of a kid.
In my early years of adolescence, those seemingly harmless comments stuck with me for the next 6 years or so, as I ended up internalizing them and attempting to find ways to correct my hair. My only objective was to tame the frizz, as my hair was neither straight nor was it clearly defined with waves or curls. And for the majority of my adolescence, the phrase “puffy hair” would trigger the start of one of my many insecurities.
The straightened hair phase is definitely not unheard of. The media, predominantly in Asia, and where I live – Southeast Asia, portrays that healthy hair with a glossy, smooth texture could be achieved by obtaining straight silky hair. Not only was it an indicator of healthy hair but it also signified hair that was taken good care of. It indicated the only form naturally healthy hair would come in.
This was another marketing propaganda profiting off the invention of newer insecurities, targeted at those who possessed different beauty features deviating from the general norm. The damaging advertisement strategy further reinforced not only that frizzy or non-straight hair was undesirable but that it was also an inherent problem that needed to be addressed through their hair products, which claimed to “fix” the friz.
As my perm faded over a year, my untamed hair only grew frizzier. Growing up in Southeast Asia, where hair product shelves were filled with keratin shampoos and conditioners and pin-straight hair was the only visible hair type from billboards to peers at school, I began to think that I was just not “taking care of it enough.” After all, people from places like mine didn’t possess curls like perhaps other ethnic groups did, or so I used to believe. My hair was supposed to be naturally straight. I just had to find a solution to tame the frizz like how others did. But little did I know that my miraculous discovery of curly hair products from my friend would completely change my outlook on my hair.
I squeezed the product onto both of my hands, combing the curling cream through my dense hair. As I scrunch my hair into curls with a towel, I was starting to see wavy curls form. Finally, I let my hair free. Untamed. As I look into the mirror to see the final product of my multi-textured curls. It occurred to me that hair, like other long lists of my insecurities, stemmed from a deviation from the population norm. My hair wasn’t “unnaturally frizzy” or needed to be tamed. It was only then, I truly realized that there was nothing ever wrong with my hair. Instead, I formed my ideal of beauty that stemmed from exposure to the ideal beauty standards of straight hair. The only familiarity with straight hair amongst the society I was living in led to it being the only beauty ideal that was socially acceptable. Keratin smooth and straight hair, thus, became the subjective perception of beauty.
With the age of social media, as newer beauty trends start replacing previous ones, older beauty standards were questioned. From light waves to kinky curls, natural hair was starting to be accepted and even embraced in the media, shattering the expectation of hair that needed to be straight and “tamed.”
I learned that Asian hair, specifically Southeast Asian hair can also be curly, kinky, and wavy. Just because other hair textures aren’t portrayed in the media, that doesn’t mean they don’t exist. Instagram accounts like @apicurls show us the different hair types amongst Asians that do naturally exist.
The imposition of unsolicited advice from strangers and peers alike on how I should best present myself was subconsciously internalized by myself. I started to believe in their unasked opinions and fret over how I had to mold myself into normality, a social construct that had zero validity. My message to those who feel the need to impose your opinions on the appearance of others (especially when their appearance does not inflict harm on you or themselves) is that maybe, perhaps maybe with the benefit of the doubt, you don’t always know what’s best. Perhaps, it’s up to the person themself to gradually figure it out through their own means, sooner or later, or honestly maybe never. But as long as we take care of ourselves the way that feels right to us, who’s to say that’s wrong?
Today, as I wear my hair however I’d like to, the texture frizzy and curly on the outside, and relatively wavy and straight on the inside, I have learned to embrace the nature of my wild and untamed hair. More importantly, I genuinely do not care. I can now say that I love my hair as it is. I love taking care of my hair and styling it and experimenting with it without listening to the constant remarks that were unasked for. But hair or no hair, there is of course nothing wrong with wanting to change your hair into a certain style, color, texture because it’s your hair, and thereby your choice. But the decision should come from your autonomy instead of the external voices that tell you so.
Though I can’t control the representation of beauty in the media, as we start seeing more Asian figures in the media from actress Sandra Oh to figure skater Nathan Chen, it’s refreshing to see those wearing their natural hair in their own realm of profession. With that being said, I hope to see the media observing and responding to the demands of the people, especially in Asia, to cater to the range of hair textures and styles amongst individuals. At the very least, I hope that this article can elucidate the point that I, a Southeast Asian Thai, can also have wavy hair despite my family’s genetically straight hair. Being different is not unnatural; rather, what’s unnatural is forcing oneself to conform to a standard that cannot be conformed to.