Oops, I Have Hair
Lookism, Insecurity, and the Fight against Shaving
Lookism has started getting to me. I tell some of my friends this when we converse, and they do find it strange because I am one of those individuals who prefer comfort over effort when I have to leave the house on ordinary days. I would certainly dress up for special events, look my best when I know I will not be going to a certain place for months. It started that way. I didn't go out much when I was in another city, so when I did, I wanted to look as good as possible because I'd be stuck in the house for weeks on end. Then school resumed, and I tried to make a good first-week impression—even with the cold. I stayed consistent with dressing with effort until the middle of the second or third week, and I went back to my comfort wear. Big, warm jogger pants, three layers of shirts, a winter jacket, and whatever angle my hair decided to stay on. I did not mind, until I started to feel like a little ugly friend when I was with friends.
Anyone who knows me might know I have a problem with feeling a little. First, I am the first child of my mother, which means I should certainly not be described as little—physical height be damned—then, I am often older than the people who I find myself around these days. I find it amusing when I ask new acquaintances to guess my actual age, and their eyes widen when I tell them the number. I am an unc, or aunt, I really do not know what the younger Gen Z and Gen A say these days. But around them, I am so old I got told, and I write this verbatim, ‘You were alive when Michael Jackson was alive’. It made me laugh to think that now I am of the age when people younger than I consider me old, but I never look it, and this has been my problem from my first degree at the University of Benin. I hated it, the way I always got questioned if I was just starting my first year. The way people would approach me on the bus as if I were a secondary school student, or how I would be questioned about whether my younger sister was my twin or older one. It infuriated me. So, I always tried to change the one thing I had control over: the hair on my head.
I often brag about being one of the first few Nigerians to make use of multicolored hair attachments, mostly because I was laughed at when I really started making colored braids. The first time I made colored braids was December of 2015, just before the second term of SS3. They were a dark shade of purple, but they were the first non-black ones I had ever put in my hair. Mother was the one who convinced me to try it out, and that birthed the woman I am today.
The second time was after secondary school; I had the braider add a little bit of white to the black braids. The third was for my matriculation; this was when I went full color. Uncaring, even when the Benin braider sneered at my choice, grumbled at the fact that I refused to heed her advice, and made snide remarks to her neighboring hairdressers when they came to see what insanity I had chosen to have on my head. All I simply had her do was mix white and blue hair attachments together, rather than make use of the colors individually. I remember the words a lot of people used during the time I had on those braids, especially at school ‘mop haired’. I mean, I never took offence, like previously stated I really do not care what opinions most people have of me.
Before color braids became a nationwide thing, for my eighteenth birthday, I had braids with blue, lilac, yellow, and black. The truth is, compared to who I am now, it was not even that colorful, and I would have very much replaced the black with white if Mother had not insisted on not doing too much. Even now, I can still hear the voices of women I passed in markets, questioning if I was a masquerade. I am more reserved about hair colors now, mostly because I do not like doing the same thing as a lot of other people. Rather than multiple colors, I often use one color or two complementary colors at a time. I have had pink faux locs (I do not recommend hot pink), blue and purple, which seemed to be a lot of my friends' favorite, lilac and gray, green and white (my project supervisor then called me the flag of Nigeria), auburn and white, and my most recent, just auburn.
On most days, though, my hair is unbraided—either undone or in a rough protective style that I can loosen to comb and be on my merry way. Or I did try that, but when I step onto the train, or see my reflection across surfaces next to other people who have nice braids, or buss down wigs, I scrunch my face at my look. I look like a child next to them, and I can tell they are way younger than I am. I also try adding light makeup to elevate my baby face, maybe take it from cute to baddie. Still, it does nothing when I stand next to strangers, or friends who are taller than I am, or curvier. So, I started desperately looking for a solution to a nonexistent problem. I spent hours on makeup TikTok, even though I have no money for makeup products the ladies use, I convinced my sister to help me get simple wigs (one of them I really regret and could have just gotten a book off amazon instead), and I started obsessing over my entire look before I stepped out the house, hoping a compliment from a stranger, male or female, would serve as validation that I did look good. On days I got nothing, I would pout all the way home, questioning if I had looked horrible.
I knew my situation was getting worse when I stared at my arms and noticed, for the first time in my life, that I am actually hairy, and those hairs are visible on my skin. The thought came in the bathroom, and I looked at my body, seeing hair from all my pores. I could not remember the last time I saw this much hair on any other woman on the train, or even at school. I wondered if others noticed this about me when they looked at me. Did they wonder who this little girl with so much body hair was when I wore skirts or short sleeves? Did they question if I am below low maintenance? These questions swirled in my head as I stared at the shaving stick that was just an arm’s length away from me. I could shave every hair off my body, but then I would become a hairless chicken, and I need the hair on my body. Also, I knew that Western society had successfully convinced women that natural parts of them were unnatural, as far back as a hundred years ago.
It all started in 1915, with the invention of the women’s razor, created to address what they considered a problem: armpit hair on women. But it certainly did not stop at armpit hairs as the years went on, slowly progressing from what could perhaps be classified as uncomfortable and unhygienic, especially in hot/humid locations, to just unnecessary. In the 1940’s, creation took a different turn. Women were sold the idea of shaving their legs. According to Elle, “Due to a wartime shortage of nylon, more products and techniques for hair removal hit the market as women were forced to go bare-legged more often.” This meant that if a woman wanted to confidently show her legs, she had to shave them. There was the idea that femininity meant being hairless all around your body, and it progressed even further by the 50’s, 60’s, all the way to our present era. Society says a woman does not look her best if the only hair on her body is not the one on her head and eyebrows. We don’t even get to have that many eyebrows anymore.
As a new biology student, I learned that the hair on our bodies does more than just sit there and look pretty. It helps with thermoregulation by managing the body’s temperature, especially during cold seasons. Hair follicles are also surrounded by nerve endings, allowing your brain to detect hair movement and slight touch. It can also help protect you from UV rays. If God wanted us to become hairless chickens, he wouldn’t have given us hair all over, and every single attribute of our body, down to the tiniest, most minute part, has a purpose.
I still find that wanting to look like society’s definition of beauty gets to me every time I step out of the house. Deep down, I think one of my friends is tired of me sending him pictures of women in dark colored wigs and tagging them ‘Brown’ with a sad eyes emoji. I also want to stop feeling like people treat me like a teenager because of my size. I am genuinely tired of hearing everyone say I will love how I look when I am fifty. I am not fifty, I am twenty-five, and I want to feel twenty-five, not fifteen. I find myself fighting every day to project the confidence I want people to see in me. I know I am confident, most of the time, yet I still have to perform it just to be taken seriously. Thankfully, I know I won’t find myself in the bathroom again, thinking that the hair on my body does not belong. Also, shaving is a lot of work, which you will not find me attempting.
Refrences
Komar, Marlen. “100 Years of Shaving Ads Show How We’ve Been Tricked into Going Hairless — PHOTOS.” Bustle, Bustle, 26 Jan. 2016, www.bustle.com/articles/137072-100-years-of-shaving-ads-show-how-weve-been-tricked-into-going-hairless-photos.
Barringer, Taylor. “History of Hair Removal.” ELLE, 28 Mar. 2013, www.elle.com/beauty/makeup-skin-care/tips/g8155/history-of-hair-removal/.
What I Am Reading
My bible mostly. It is one thing I have struggled with, on and off, for years. So, I am trying to incorporate it back into my daily life. I finished Dune by Frank Herbert a week ago. I love that book so much. I love how it explains the heaviness of the chosen one trope. I love that I do not have a favorite character because everyone just exists in the world, trying to survive. I mean, there are clearly good and bad, but even the good make decisions that the world would certainly consider bad. I think everyone should read Dune once in their lifetime. I am still waiting for my school library to inform me about the book I asked for, which will be my next read.
What I Am Watching
So many shows because my attention is everywhere. The last one I started is the kdrama Wonderfools because people around me told me it was funny. It is okay, for now. Maybe as I progress, it will get a proper laugh out of me.
Who I Am Listening To
Not Stray Kids this time (but I had to mention them). I found out that the tall, black kid in the movie Little is now 18 and singing R&B. His stage name is JayDon, and his sound is so beautiful. It is so clean and smooth, and you can hardly tell he’s such a young man from the audio alone. I hope he gets all of the accolades he deserves. Listening to his songs sent me on a hunt for Black Romcom Movies, which has been disappointing so far. Where are all the Black Romcoms? I would probably need to write a rant about how all the current Black recommendations I have been getting are drama, and everything points back to deep trauma. And yes, I have seen You, Me & Tuscany (because that is somehow everyone’s first suggestion).
What I Am Working on
I have been writing a short story for weeks, but I haven’t been able to write properly. Short stories are one of my weaknesses, but I want to get good at them. If anyone can do it, I can.
PAYPA is having an Africa Day event on Saturday, the 23rd of May at 5PM GMT. It is open to the public for you to come, interact and learn about other cultures. We have presenters ready to spill the secrets of their cultures, so be on the lookout for the Google Meet Link.