The first go-round was bad enough. Today, Samuels posts a follow-up piece rehashing the same points with a supposedly damning photo of Zahara's hair. Newsflash: that's what natural hair looks like with a wash and go. That's what my hair looks like right now! What does Ms. Samuels want her to do, put on a headband? Is a wash and go suddenly okay if we use accessories?

Seriously, there are three big issues at play here that she missed in her analysis.

Zahara Jolie-Pitt Is A Transracial Adoptee And Third Culture Kid

First of all, all of the Jolie-Pitt kids have some unique circumstances. In addition to the transracial adoption angle, the Jolie-Pitts are a nomadic family, settling in places for a while and then moving on. This means that they are all Third Culture Kids. They do not have a dominant society that they grew up in, which means that they may or may not absorb the cultural norms of any of the places they have lived. The children may grow up to feel allegiance to one particular place, or none at all. All this is to say that Zahara may not grow up identifying with the black American experience.

No doubt, Zahara Jolie-Pitt is black. But in the global sense of the word, not in the American way Samuels applies in her piece. As many commenters pointed out in our original post about this, Z is not African-American. She was adopted from Ethiopia, and if Ms. Samuels is ever in DC, I would be more than happy to take her down to the U Street Corridor so she can see how many women from Ethiopia wear their hair. (If she wants to look right now, here's some traditional styles - she'll notice that braids, cornrows, curly fros, loose hair, and the Quntcho (represented stateside and elsewhere as a fro-hawk) are all represented. For more contemporary styles, the contestants in the Ethiopian Millennium Pageant also rock a variety of looks.)

Ms. Samuels is applying a uniquely African American framework to a child who does not have that experience.

Now, that doesn't mean Zahara Jolie-Pitt will have a life free of hair struggles. Curly haired readers from across the globe have pointed out their issues with beauty standards and black hair. Which brings me to my next point.

The Black-on-Black Crime That is Hair Policing Has to End

One of things that drives me insane about these conversations is that they are all hair policing. As Samuels writes in her latest piece:

But the actress should know that the next time Zahara asks about hair, it won't be why her hair isn't similar to others in her house. It will be why her hair doesn't look like other brown girls' does.

On a cultural note, I'd like Angelina to also know how much bonding goes on when mothers sit down to comb their daughter's hair; something that happens in almost every culture, but particularly in the African-American community. My fondest memories are of me sitting on the floor as my mother brushed and oiled my hair.

Okay, that's great. Let me ask her this: what happened after those fond memories? The styles of childhood do not continue into our preteen years, the age when black girls normally get their first relaxers. Does she have fond memories of her mother basing her scalp before she applied the chemicals that would straighten her hair? Or is that a ritual that is just understood as a part of growing up? Are her memories scarred with the taunts of other children? My cousins came home crying after being teased about their "beady-beads" and their "kitchens." And who did the taunting? Many times, it was other black students. We need to stop encouraging conformity and hair hatred, because there is a logical end to the path we are walking down. Instead of fighting each other when someone's hair doesn't conform to our specific ideals, wouldn't it make more sense to fight against a racist system that penalizes and politicizes certain hair styles?

Loose, Curly Hair is Not the Enemy.

Wearing it loose is one of the things a person does when she actually likes the look of her natural hair. Crazy, I know. It isn't as if Zahara can't get ponytails and plaits - the pic used to illustrate this post proves that. But there is nothing wrong with wearing hair loose. Just because the dominant narrative says that curly hair looks wild, unkempt, or untamed unless it is partially braided, in a head band, or otherwise "tamed" doesn't mean we have to buy into it.

To be honest, I'm pissed. I'm pissed at these messed up dynamics, I'm pissed that someone with a Newsweek-level platform can keep bashing the hammer about Zahara without discussing the larger dynamics involved with discussions of natural hair, and I'm pissed that I feel like I'm defending the Pokemon-style adoption tactics of Angelina Jolie, or glossing over the very real indicators shown when a white adoptive parent can't be bothered to learn how to properly care for their child's hair. But specifically in this case, I think the ire directed at Ms. Jolie about her child's hair is misplaced.

Please, for all that is right and good in the world, let's leave Zahara be. We can help to shape a world where she doesn't feel pressured to relax her hair to conform, nor does she feel deficient if she decides to wear her hair the way it grows out of her head. We can shape a world were a decision to relax one's hair is an inconsequential as a decision to dye it or cut it. And if little Zahara grows up and does choose to relax her hair, she should be able to do so in a world that will not judge her personal politics by what she applies to her head.

Zahara Jolie-Pitt And The Politics Of Uncombed Hair [Newsweek]

Related: We Are All Team Zahara [Newsweek]
Third Culture Kids [Wikipedia]
Ethiopian Hair Styles [Ethiopedia]
Are curls the new straight hair? (The Germany Files) [Racialicious]
Hair, Apparently. [Racialicious]
Nappily Ever After? Not Quite… [Racialicious]

Earlier: Thanks For Your Concern, But Zahara's Hair Will Be Fine

We're still talking about this because:

• No one's hair is every really good enough. The discussions about black hair don't just reflect the reality of black women's struggles, but the internal conversations of women who have hair that deviates from the shiny, full, swingy-straight ideal in some form or fashion. I recently had a conversation with a friend of mixed race heritage who has long dark brown hair that hangs to her shoulders. She confided that she often thought of having a straightening treatment done, but didn't know if it was worth the hassle. I looked at her, aghast. "Dude, your hair is straight!" I blurted out, looking at her locks which hang straight down and can easily be run through with a comb.

  "No, this isn't straight," she replied, explaining her hair had a body wave that made it stand out. "It's not wavy enough to look cool, but it's too wavy to be straight unless I use a flat iron." I heard similar sentiments on from a Korean American friend, also debating a straightening treatment. And I've heard laments from my straight-as-a-pin haired friends who have hair that refuses to hold a curl. It seems that no matter what we work toward, it isn't enough. So while many of our discussions revolve around the racial realities facing black women, having hosted many a conversation about black hair over the years, I never fail to be surprised when women of all shades find parts of their stories in this common, frustrating narrative.

• In two-thousand-fucking-eight it was (and) is still totally cool for black women to be denied service at salons, regardless of what they are having done. And this is on top of what I like to call "the black hair tax" - knowing that you're going to have at least twenty extra dollars tacked on to your service charge because you require flat iron service post blow dry. One time, I went to a salon in my area with air dried, a few weeks of new growth hair. I went to a stylist who had styled my hair before. I sat in her chair, but she looked at my hair like it was going to bite her. She then pulled out a fine-toothed comb and watched it get stuck in my hair before excusing herself to find "someone who can do this type of hair."

  Again: she had done my hair before, about four weeks prior to this occasion. However, seeing my hair in a semi-curly state forced her to run for back up (which turned out to be an Afro-Carribean stylist who wrung my hair out like a rag and then heat blasted it into submission). The worst part? If she had done what she normally does (wash, blowdry, flat iron) my hair would have turned out fine. But she recoiled from my hair and wouldn't even consider repeating the same process she went through the last time she styled my mane. And I will never forget that.

• We haven't talked about men's hair issues yet, specifically black men. From wave caps to jheri curls, it isn't all good over there either. Chris Rock's new documentary features commentary from Al Sharpton and Rock explains to Allison Samuels:
  

  Come on, you have to have the good reverend in anything that deals with black hair. He's so not ashamed of discussing his hair and how he keeps it up with a scarf and whatever. His thoughts on black life and what it involves can be priceless.

• We still have to deal with the curly haired stigma. As Dodai wrote when she asked "Why Is Straight Hair the Epitome of 'Style'?":
  

  It sucks to have hard-to-manage hair, of course. But the paranoia surrounding curls and frizz is troubling, to say the very least. Why is straight hair considered to be "polished" and curly hair often described as "wild"? In movies like The Princess Diaries, when the character goes from geek to chic, there's always a scene where they take her crazy, frizzy curly strands (which just need a little deep conditioner and some spray gel) and make them straight... and therefore, pretty. Let's say you had a choice between curly hair and straight hair. If you were going on a job interview and you wanted to seem serious and businesslike, which would you choose? Does straight hair seem more professional? What if you were going on a date? Does curly hair seem exotic, sexy, fun? And is there a subtle racism in this type of thinking?

  I fully co-sign Dodai here. But it is interesting to note that Pool's Guardian piece reveals how deeply ingrained this type of thinking is. As she describes the feeling after flat ironing her hair:

  We were in Sweden for a wedding, and my logic was that if I truly hated it I could wash it and return to London with no one any the wiser. But I didn't hate it; in fact I rather liked it. It felt sleek and modern. My hair was bouncy and shiny, it looked healthy and, best of all, it moved. It even swished from side to side.

  If straight hair is modern, does that make curly hair primitive? It seems like a harsh thing to say, but that's the ultimate connotation. And as I mentioned before, these ideas are deeply ingrained. I often fight with myself before important occasions or events if I will or won't have my hair straightened. I generally decide against it, but the urge is always there to make myself "more presentable" by taming it into a straight style.

  Pool goes on to discuss how she conflicted she feels, an emotion I know all too well:

  There was only one problem: it made me feel guilty. I felt like a traitor. And I became mildly obsessed about what signals I was sending out. If an afro says, "I'm confident enough to wear my hair as it comes," what does wearing my hair straight say?

  But after a few days I started to notice some unexpected side-effects of straightening my hair. Other Eritreans and Ethiopians – who generally all straighten their hair – started to nod and smile at me in the street, acknowledging me as one of them. And I love it.

  The world does react to you differently when you decide to straighten out. The shift in how you are perceived is something that is instantly noticed, even if it is tough to articulate. And it's one of the factors that makes it difficult to truly choose to wear your hair one way or the next - we are all influenced on some level by our peers and coworkers and their attitudes impact how we feel.

  I am typing this post in a cafe in downtown DC. While I was writing these words, a little girl with natural hair, coaxed into plaits with fuzzy puffs escaping wherever it can, stared at me for a minute or two as she walked past. I waved to her and her father encouraged her to say hello to me. She stood there, fixated on my hair. I looked up and realized her mother was waiting at the table. Her hair was long and straightened. I wonder what that little girl was thinking when she saw me. I don't think I'll ever know. But I do know that I don't want her to struggle with the same issues I struggle with now.

  There is so much emotion wrapped up in conversations of hair and choices and desirability that delving into these issues can be fraught with heartache. Women on all sides feel judged, feel scrutinized, feel as though whatever choice they have made, they still need to continually justify it.

  But, please, not on this thread. Let's look inward, let's treat others with kindness whatever their choices may be. And we're going to hug it out - India Arie style:

  

  Should You Straighten Your Afro Hair [Guardian]
  Chris Rock Talks 'Good Hair' [Newsweek]

  Earlier: Woman Denied Service At JC Penney Salon For Having Black Hair
  Keeping Michelle's Hair In Perspective
  Combing Through The Deeply Rooted Politics Of Black Hair Issues
  Why Is Straight Hair the Epitome of 'Style'?
  Dear Oprah, Mariah & Leona: Don't Forget That Curly Hair Is Beautiful Too

  [Image via Hairdressers Journal Interactive]

As anyone who's been indoctrinated by a curly salon knows, these are some cardinal sins. While the anti-curl straight-haired world may not understand the drama, agony and ecstasy of living with curly hair, the Curly Haired Salon exists to overcome generations of societal suppression, vague racism and willful misunderstanding and let the curl Breathe Free. And of course, they're right: those of us with curls have had mushroom cuts and dealt with years of agony and frizz. Certainly the societal partiality for soulless, tightly-controlled blow-outs and the perceptions that curls denote some kind of wildness and irresponsibility are pernicious and very likely in part based on a racism that people accept unthinkingly. And it's certainly true that these curly salons (there are to my knowledge two main chains plus satellites; I've been to a number of these) give great cut and that their products result in good-looking hair. But these salons, with their strict credos and inviolate rules, their didactic books railing against the injustices of the straight-haired world, and the parade of clients leaving with strangely identical manes of ringlets, are a tyranny all their own.

My first visit to one of these salons was an education in shame. For years, I admitted, I had been using a drying commercial shampoo full — full, I tell you — of wicked chemicals. This, I was told, must stop immediately; I'd have to start using the salon's (expensive) substance that somehow isn't shampoo but should be used like a shampoo. I was also washing my hair far too frequently, stripping it of its natural oils! Then too, I was detangling it with a wide-tooth comb (bad) and, worst of all, employing a towel to dry it, when everyone knows this results in frizz. As we have learned, we should blot the ends of our hair dry with a paper towel or a tee-shirt.

"Have you had a lot of people try to cut your hair like it was straight?" my hairdresser demanded eagerly.
"Um, I guess so," I said, not wanting to disappoint her. She nodded in satisfaction. "They don't understand," she said simply.

I dutifully shelled out for the battery of products, junked my Pantene, went through forests of paper towels. But I chafed at it — I didn't like the distinctively cloying smell of the hair products, easily identifiable in a crowd, or only shampooing once a week. I was also unwilling to rub my scalp with brown sugar, which I'd been told in no uncertain terms I should be doing every seven days. I knew I should be reveling in my newfound follicular independence, and enjoying a sense of solidarity with my curly-haired sisters, and I felt guilty. I wasn't the only one; a hair-washer confessed to me in a whisper that on her own time she often straightened her hair, but that the salon's management preferred that all employees wear it curly. And so, as I left that salon yesterday, it was with a delicious sense of trespass. When I return to my usual salon, will they be able to smell the taint of shampoo, spot the frizz of towel usage? Doubtless. And I will, of course, be plying a tee shirt tomorrow (hey, I like to get a day's mileage out of salon hair!) and surely be the better for it. But knowing that I can break the tyranny is a good feeling.

Earlier: GMA Investigates: Could Straightening Your Hair Change Your Life?

• Slut Machine took one for the team and Intern Betty filmed her getting a colonic. Crappy hour indeed.
  
• Speaking of Crap: If Aliza Shvarts smears her uterine lining all over Boot Barn and no one is around to see it, did it really happen?
  
• We learned why mommy's face no longer moves.
  
• The kind of mommy who reads Baby Couture!
  
• Paul Janka + Tyra = Our pop cultural worlds colliding

• We met Sarah, an American journalist in Yemen. She misses booze.
• The American economy through the lens of hand jobs and Dov Charney: a treatise.
• The conspiracy against curls must be stopped.
• Even though Mark Ronson might be off the market, get your ass effects out on the town this weekend! It's been a doozy of a week.

As a curly girl myself, I agree with the content of this letter — although I am not at all surprised that a makeover means straight hair. We're living in a day and age where curly hair is like an STD: It's best to get rid of it as soon as possible and pretend you never had it.

Witness: Mariah then; Mariah now. Nicole Kidman then; Nicole Kidman now. Jennifer Lopez then; Jennifer Lopez now. Beyoncé then; Beyoncé now. Even new singer Leona Lewis lost her tight curls in order to "make it." I could go on. Not to mention movies like The Princess Diaries, in which the heroine goes from an ugly dork to a pretty girl by (ta-dah!) getting a blow out. It's great to try a new look, and we all know the feeling of wanting something you don't have. (I'd be lying if I said I didn't go straight every now and then.) But the subtext is that curly hair is somehow "wrong" and in need of "fixing," like a crooked smile, ill-fitting wardrobe or something else you'd "make over." Worse, I suspect there is an underlying racism in the aversion to curly hair. It's often described as "wild" and "untamed" which basically means "savage" and isn't that just a polite way of saying "black people have it" ?

In any case, curly hair is nothing to be ashamed of. Obviously. In the words of Breyer and Heber: "We are proud to espouse the message that curly hair, like eye and skin color, is always in style and is something that one needn't change in order to 'fit in.' After all, curlies make up more than 50% of the world's population - we need to rock our curls!" It would be great if the world accepted curly hair, but if Oprah can't, what chance do we have?

An Open Letter to Oprah Winfrey From NaturallyCurly.com [PR Newswire]
Related: NaturallyCurly.com

Earlier: Why Is Straight Hair The Epitome Of 'Style'?
The Flesh-Eating Phonies Also Known As Lace-Front Wigs
'Glamour' Editor To Lady Lawyers: Being Black Is Kinda A Corporate "Don't"

"I got very emotional," she said. "It was mind-boggling how beautiful my hair looked: straight, shiny, sleek and more important, healthy."

It sucks to have hard-to-manage hair, of course. But the paranoia surrounding curls and frizz is troubling, to say the very least. Why is straight hair considered to be "polished" and curly hair often described as "wild"? In movies like The Princess Diaries, when the character goes from geek to chic, there's always a scene where they take her crazy, frizzy curly strands (which just need a little deep conditioner and some spray gel) and make them straight... and therefore, pretty. Let's say you had a choice between curly hair and straight hair. If you were going on a job interview and you wanted to seem serious and businesslike, which would you choose? Does straight hair seem more professional? What if you were going on a date? Does curly hair seem exotic, sexy, fun? And is there a subtle racism in this type of thinking? Some curly girls (this writer included) occasionally get a blow-out to change things up. The compliments are overwhelmingly positive ("You look amazing!"), but force the curly girl to imagine the unspoken subtext ("You usually look like a sea hag!") The Times uses words like "unruly," "thorn bush" and "tumbleweed" to describe pre-Brazilian-ed hair. They don't come out and say "ugly," but isn't it kind of obvious? So why is stick-straight hair so desirable? Because it's rare? Because it blows in the wind? Because you can run your fingers through it? Because black people don't have it? We need to know. Because honestly, some of us kinda want to try this Brazilian thing.