While Sun-In may have been a highlight lifesaver for some, I either didn't follow the directions properly or the solution had a weird reaction with my often-chlorinated swimmer's hair, as my "highlights" left me with a bright orange mop atop my head that took months to fade away. It wasn't the worst of my hair disasters, however: there was a truly heinous haircut during my freshman year of college that left me with about an inch of hair on my head and Kate Gosselin-eque bangs (which I later trimmed myself, which made things worse, as I looked like a four-year-old), and of course the time I spent a summer continually dying my hair a shade of drugstore-brand red, which left me with faded purple hues and creepy blood-colored dye stains in my shower. And then there was the time when I decided to go back to my "natural blonde" by attempting to bleach the red out of my hair, which left me looking like Pink's sad, slightly deranged older sister.

There's not much you can do with a terrible haircut but let it grow, and dye jobs are often fixable, though they come with a price, for both your wallet and the overall health of your hair. Over the years I've learned that I'm a total idiot when it comes to my own hair, and that dying and trimming are best left to the professionals. Of course, in a recession, that means my hair has to go through awkward periods of growth and obvious roots, but in my case I'll take the hair of someone who hasn't been to the salon in a while over the hair of someone who looks like they just stepped out of a Kajagoogoo video from 1983.

So what were your worst hair disasters? And how did you fix them?

Sun-In [Vintage Ads]

Yes, the It Girls of England, like Pixie Geldof, are choosing to go gray, as blonde apparently is passe and pink is played out. Silver tresses are reportedly all the rage amongst people who have not yet had to deal with actual silver strands popping up in their hair, which makes one wonder if gray hair is going to be a trend that everyone embraces, or if it's only considered cool when accompanied by a wrinkle-free face.

"This is a youth movement," Hanra writes, "from east London's cool set to models on the Paris catwalks, women are throwing the tonsorial rulebook out of the window and going with the gray." I suppose it's a bit of a punk rock move to embrace gray hair before it has even hit you, attaching a sense of youth to something so closely associated with aging, and it's also nice to see gray hair getting some positive attention, though it's a bit much to present the embrace of silver locks by hipster girls as a sign that women everyone are getting comfortable with going gray. Having fun with Manic Panic is one thing; actually shifting cultural perspectives on gray hair and aging is quite another.

But I suppose the trend won't last too long, as with every "cool set" movement, there will probably be a backlash to women who—gasp—actually dare to wear their natural gray hair 5 hours from now, when the trend is over. "Grandma thinks she's so cool with her silver tresses and her giant bag and her eight layers of cardigans and her four strands of pearls. That was so December 2009!"

The New Gray Hair Trend [TimesOnline]

Cole, 26, appears in a television ad in which she sings the praises of L'Oréal Elvive Full Restore 5, a shampoo and conditioner range. "My hair feels stronger, full of life, replenished with a healthy shine. It's got its mojo back," she says as she parades in a red dress.

It could prove nigh-on impossible for viewers to get the same result simply out of a bottle, however. Cole owes her look to hair extensions, which cost up to £1,000, to give her hair more volume and bounce.

During her TV commercial, a message flashes up, saying her hair is "styled with some natural extensions", but it remains on screen for fewer than two seconds of its 30-second duration. In magazine advertisements, the hair extensions are mentioned in print 2mm high.

Viewers of the ad have lodged complaints with Advertising Standards Authority (ASA), saying that the tiny script was "misleading" and the commercial leaves the impression that it is Cole's hair that is swinging and shiny with the help of the product.

Among those who have complained that they are misleading is Daisy Goodwin, the television producer and occasional Sunday Times columnist.

Goodwin, 47, said last week: "My daughter, aged nine, has been saying, ‘Please can we buy the shampoo because I want to look like Cheryl Cole'. But her hair is not her own. The reason her hair looks fabulous is because of hair extensions. I didn't even see the reference to them in the ad."

She added: "Women are being taken for a ride. It is not the same as having your own hair. It's bonkers."

The ASA doesn't believe the commercial is problematic, and point out that the extensions are mentioned in the ad, and are presumably being treated with the product. But is that really what passes as truth in advertising?

L'Oréal Row Takes The Shine Off Cheryl Cole's Hair [Times of London]

The Times's Sarah Maslin talks to John Barrett, who has a salon inside of tony Bergdorf Goodman in Manhattan. He says:

"It's aspirational hair."

In other words, you can dream about it… that doesn't mean you're going to get it.

Nuri Yurt, of Toka Salon on Madison Avenue, whose clients include several former first ladies, says almost all of his customers with long hair ask for Blake Lively's cut, but:

The look, he said, only works for tall, slim women.

In other words, you fatties and shorties need not apply.

Michael Wilson of Bumble & Bumble also warns you not to get your hopes up: "Trouble is, some girls are born with amazing hair," he says, adding that Blake Lively's hair "sets an unrealistic expectation."

Barett can get your tresses like Blake Lively's if you have $1,200 a month to spend on extensions, treatments, haircuts and styling at his salon.

When Maslin talks to Blake Lively herself, and lets her know how popular her hair is, Blake says: "That's always kind of odd, but unbelievably flattering." And. Just to make you feel worse, she tells the reporter that her hair is mostly natural — the color gets touched up every six months, and the "unraveling curls" are created not with fancy techniques and curling irons, but by letting her hair dry in a simple chignon.

To hammer the final nail in the coffin, Lively adds: "I was born with a head full of hair."

A ‘Gossip Girl' Look, Pronto! [NY Times]

[New York, November 2. Images via x17.]

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

The Times' Lisa Armstrong writes:

Vidal didn't think that his clients looked like lesbians. He thought they looked modern, liberated - which they were: liberated from the rollers, the perming, the setting, the back-combing, the huge dryers and the humungous output of aerosol particles that constituted a trip to the salon throughout the Fifties.

Sassoon became a CBE— Commander Of The British Empire — as of yesterday, cementing his already-secure status as an icon. Though his products are no longer sold in the US or Europe, he makes millions in Asia. And there's his reputation. As Armstrong puts it, back in the '60s and '70s, "hairdressers were extravagantly heterosexual sex gods." But if you watch old movies, or Mad Men, it's easy to see why Sassoon's unique cuts were buzz-worthy, and why they arrived at the perfect time. It was in the air, he says: "You had only to look at Mies's [van der Rohe] Seagram [a 1957 New York skyscraper] or Breuer's Whitney [the 1966 art museum, also in New York] to know." The architecture, the clothes, the vibe of the '60s was geometric, no-fuss. Sassoon created hair to match.

But there was also an androgyny happening, a refusal to maintain norms like "boys have short hair, girls have long." When he chopped Mia Farrow's hair for Rosemary's Baby, it flew in the face of what it meant to be "feminine." Yet, as Armstrong writes: "A zillion women copied the style."

These days, most women want bouncy waves and lots of length (often through extensions). Armsrtong asks what Sassoon thinks of that. He answers: "To be honest, I've been out of hairdressing so long I can't really judge." Diplomatic. But you've got to wonder what it would be like if he got back in the game and liberated a few heads.

Vidal Sassoon: The Man Who Made English Hairstyling Great [Times Of London]

I suppose the article really gets under my skin for three major reasons:

1. Assumptions Surrounding Transracial Adoption

According to Samuels:

In recent pictures it's clear Angelina Jolie hasn't taken the time to learn or understand the long and painful history of African-American women and hair. If she had I can't imagine she would continue to allow Zahara to look like she has in the past few months.

Reading through the article, I sensed an undercurrent of anger directed toward Jolie being a white parent raising a black child. Now, I can understand where a bit of this is coming from - as the owner of a site that spends a lot of time critiquing transracial adoption practices, what we have heard from transracial adoptees is that many times, parents treat issues of race and culture as if they were optional, which left the children ill-equipped to deal with insensitive jabs from classmates or fellow family members. However, the Jolie-Pitts appear to keep lots of ties to their children's home countries as well as a larger global citizen perspective on the harsh realities of the world. So what could be the problem?

In sharp contrast, Madonna, who adopted a little African girl earlier this year from Malawi, makes sure her daughter's hair is either braided with beads or bows. Recent photos show the little girl modeling neatly done cornrows with white beads at the bottom-a la Venus and Serena Williams.

Ah, I see. So, because Zahara is rarely seen in cornrows or braids, it means that Jolie is ignorant of cultural norms? I doubt it. Some kids simply do not like the tightness of braids or cornrows. (Personally, I know hated the pain and tugging that came with cornrows, so I've only worn them twice in my life. Then again, I've been accused of being tenderheaded.) Later on in the article, Samuels acknowledges that the Jolie-Pitts have made efforts: they had Beyonce's stylist on retainer for a while, and Brad Pitt often shouts out celebrity favorite Carol's Daughter products in interviews. So clearly, they did some kind of research. But in Samuels eyes, this was not enough.

2. Assumptions about cultural norms

Allison Samuels writes:

It's no secret that black women and their hair have always had a very complicated relationship. In a society that values fine facial features and long silky, straight hair, African-Americans' sometimes kinky, fragile, and unruly hair can be the bane of a black woman's existence if she allows it.

Hair is often the first thing others notice, be it the texture, length, fullness, or shine. In the African-American community it can also tell a story. It can indicate your background, lineage, and social standing. From slavery until today, skin color and hair texture played a large part in how the overall society viewed blacks and ultimately the way African-Americans saw themselves.

So a black woman has two options: either submit to damaging relaxers and hot combs, or keep hair natural-while still ensuring that it's well conditioned, well combed, and in place. There are many legacies of black hair in America, but the most enduring is this: even those who eschew pursuing European-looking hair still take a tremendous amount of pride in looking well groomed and put together, and still need to devote time and energy to achieve this effect.

Who gets to define what is "groomed" and what is not? For example, I generally don't style my hair, preferring to leave it loose. Does that mean I no longer look well groomed or put together? If my hair isn't visibly shiny, are people interpreting that to mean it isn't conditioned? And what does in place mean? Especially as my hair goes up and out and not down? One of my close friends has been natural for close to 15 years now, and she generally allows her hair to grow as it grows. (She will probably dreadlock it a bit later this year). Her hair looks fine - bur occasionally people will make remarks like "your hair needs a comb!" My friend's hair is highly textured and it is easy to tell with a cursory glance that she cares for it. But when people yell out those kind of remarks, they aren't objecting to her personal choice - they're objecting to the fact that any hair that doesn't hang down straight is considered unkempt.

Samuels' next few paragraphs illuminate her intentions. The objections she raises aren't about hair being well cared for - it's about curl control:

It's no wonder that African-American women are the largest consumers of hair products, spending close to a billion dollars each year to control their hair. These same women passed down these perceived notions about hair to their daughters. They usually begin hot combing and braiding the child's hair to take the kink out at an early age.

But even the mothers who spare the hot comb still have to put time and effort into keeping hair healthy: Any self-respecting black mother knows that she must comb, oil, and brush her daughter's hair every night. This prevents the hair from matting up, drying out, and breaking off. It also prevents any older relatives from asking them why you're neglecting your child and letting her run around looking like a wild woman. Having well-managed hair is not just about style, it's about pride, dignity, and self-respect. Keeping your daughter's hair neat is an unspoken rule of parental duties that everyone in the community recognizes and respects.

I thought the whole point of my mother spending time to wrestle my hair into things like plaits and pigtails was so that she wouldn't have to go through with a nightly ritual, that I had a style I could wear for a few days. I don't think she was trying to camouflage my curls and kinks with her choice of styling method. But when Samuels' goes into the reasoning for her ideas, things really get dicey:

Hair that is nice, neat, and cared for also gives African-American girls the confidence that they can fit into the world at large without being seen as completely different. One truism of childhood is that nothing is more important than being like everyone else. Well, as like everyone else as you can be with Hollywood parents. But not all people will recognize Zahara as the child of movie royalty. To many, she'll be just a black little girl-and a black girl with bad hair at that.

We (as young black girls) are always different. If our hair is perfectly straight, flowing and bouncing, there's still the matter of features and skin tone. Even if our hair is perfectly straight, it will feel different because many of us moisturize with grease (or other products) instead of washing the grease down the drain in the morning. We are different and there is nothing wrong with that. Assimilation is not guarantee of acceptance.

3. The Unquestioned Embrace of Conformity

Kids experiment with their hair. All the time. And this goes double for the Jolie-Pitts. Maddox normally rocks a mohawk (and the occasional dye job), Pax has blond streaks and long loose hair, and Z has had every style from little puffs to loose curls. Clearly, the children appear to be encouraged to experiment with their whole look, and hair is an extension of that .

So when Samuels writes:

Photos of Zahara show the 4-year-old girl sporting hair that is wild and unstyled, uncombed and dry. Basically: a "hot mess.''

You know what else is a hot mess?

Denying a child the same freedom to explore and play with her hair as her brothers and sisters.

Yes, I have seen some of the photos where Z's hair does look a bit dry and damaged, just like we've seen the rest of the kids with serious bedhead. But how do we know Zahara's hair being positioned straight up on her head wasn't done out of a desire to imitate the distinctive style of her older brother, Maddox? As I said above, the problem goes deeper than one or two "bad" hair days. It's the reinforcement (both on a cultural level and on a societal level) that kinky or curly hair must always be tamed to be considered acceptable.

Zahara has her whole life ahead of her to stress about her hair.

For now, let's just give her the space to be a child.

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

Wurtzel, author of Prozac Nation and an incredibly depressing essay about getting older, basically plays the bad cop to Nerve editor-at-large Jack Harrison's good cop in this particular debate, titled "The Brazilian Wax: Bare vs. Hair." Speaking almost like a cliche of The Kind of Guy You'd Want To Have Sex With, Harrison says he likes all of a woman's natural smells, secretions, and adornments, including pubic hair. Wurtzel (perhaps unsurprisingly, given her much-publicized reliance on various beauty treatments) disagrees.

She argues that men prefer a naked snatch, and that this is "just the way things are and will ever be." After speaking for all men and predicting the future, she moves on to generalizing about the preferences of her own gender:

I think we women don't feel entirely female unless we're slaves to beauty.

And:

[A]t one time, when you got pubic hair, it meant that you were an adult. Now, you get it removed to show that... you're an adult. There's something childish about being hairy, now that Brazilians have achieved vaginal hegemony.

And:

I guess there is a philosophical sickness that drives us to do things like go to salons for hair removal: it's an insane drive toward achieving a state that we'll never get to, that we'll always be approaching, stuck at some horrible asymptote. But I guess it makes me feel better to try.

In her post on Wurtzel's aging essay, Sadie wrote that Wurtzel "has always ascribed a universality to her own experiences" — and really, the best response to her thoughts on pubic hair is, "speak for your fucking self." The truth is, I do know women who get Brazilians because men like it (or, as Wurtzel says, "the audience response had been very, very good"). But I also know women who do it because they like the way it feels, or looks — and I know women who keep a full bush for those same reason. Yes, institutionalized standards of beauty are fucked up, and yes, the ideal of female hairlessness is one such standard of beauty. But getting a Brazilian doesn't necessarily mean you don't feel "fully female" without one.

It's a little weird that I started out this post defending waxing, since my personal sympathies lie with Harrison and his let-it-all-hang-out philosophy. But Wurtzel makes all female grooming sound like such depressing drudgery that I feel like stepping in on its behalf. Feminism has long had a fraught relationship with the modification and decoration of the female body, but one of the few nice things about the current post-feminist morass is the widespread recognition that dressing up, wearing lipstick, and, yes, even getting a Brazilian, can be kind of fun.

Yeah, so waxing hurts a lot more than lipstick. So it produces a look that some people think is infantile. That doesn't mean everyone who does it wants to look like an infant, or that every hair removed is an act of willing enslavement. Wurtzel's "insane drive toward achieving a state that we'll never get to" does sound like a pretty good description of the attitude toward beauty that women's magazines and advertisers want us to have. But just because Wurtzel drank that Kool-Aid doesn't mean we have to.

Maybe I'm being too optimistic — maybe it's impossible to make choices favored by the beauty-industrial complex without in some way enslaving oneself to this complex and all its evil familiars. But Wurtzel's idea of womanhood is so heartbreakingly constrained — by men, by porn, by standards of beauty that are totally entrenched and unchangeable — that it seems to leave no room for taking actual joy in our bodies. And I have to believe we're freer than that.

The Nerve Debate, The Brazilian Wax: Bare vs. Hair [Nerve]

Chris Rock, who co-wrote, produced, and stars in the film, was inspired to make it when his young daughter asked why she doesn't have "good hair." He decided to explore others' ideas of what constitutes "good hair" by visiting beauty salons, analyzing the chemicals found in relaxers, and interviewing celebrities from Eve to Al Sharpton to Maya Angelou about their hair.

Almost every critic praises Good Hair, but for the most part, their reviews stick to a summary of the film and analysis of Rock as host/narrator. Several say they found themselves surprised by the information presented - possibly because, judging from photos found online, none of them reviewers actually have black hair. While this latter fact doesn't disqualify them from critiquing the quality of the film, the reviews do come from an outsider's perspective, like The New York Times' take, which notes, "One of the happy consequences of Good Hair should be a radical increase in white-woman empathy for their black sisters."

Some critics do say the film doesn't adequately explore the gender politics of how black men feel about black women's hair, which Dodai worried about after watching a preview clip of men discussing their wives' and girlfriends' hair in a barber shop. The most in-depth analysis comes from Roger Ebert, who claims in his Chicago Sun-Times review that the kind of relaxer shown eating through a Coke can isn't commonly used. (Ebert, who is married to an African-American woman, also complains about Chris Rock seeming to advocate for "natural hair", pointing out that every woman, regardless of color, uses some type of product or treatment on her tresses.)

Entertainment Weekly

Rock, who co-wrote Good Hairand serves as its guiding host, is hilariously aware of the cultural insecurities that have driven many African-Americans to spend a fortune on straightening their hair. Yet by structuring the film around the Bronner Bros. Hair Show, a battle-of-the-salon-stars so over-the-top it's like Iron Chefmeets Paris Is Burning, Rock gives Good Hair a rousing message: Where African-Americans in the '60s adopted a ''natural'' look, they now feel free to coif their heads any way they want. That's cultural power.

The A.V. Club

Is it possible to talk about the fascinating and complex universe of black hair without dealing with race and identity? That's the question posed by Good Hair, director Jeff Stilson and co-writer/producer/narrator/star Chris Rock's charming new comic exploration of African-American hair. The film is filled with sadly telling moments, like a black beauty student telling Rock that she'd have a hard time taking a job applicant seriously if he had an afro, yet its tone is one of amusement rather than indignation. Rock is an entertainer, not a polemicist, and Good Hair will never be mistaken for a college course in African American Hair And Racial Identity, though it does stress the pain women will endure and the exorbitant prices they'll pay to keep up with follicular trends. To the film's subjects, paying thousands for a complicated, high-maintenance weave is less a luxury than a necessity, even for those low on the socio-economic scale.

The New York Times

In fact, one of the happy consequences of Good Hair should be a radical increase in white-woman empathy for their black sisters. Whether in thrall to "creamy crack," a scary, aluminum-dissolving chemical otherwise known as relaxer (what it's really relaxing, observes Mr. Rock astutely, is white people), or the staggeringly expensive and time-consuming weave (often available on layaway plan), the women in the film bare heads and hearts with humor and without complaint...

Competently directed by Jeff Stilson, Good Hair employs humor as a medium for insightful and often uncomfortable observations on race and conformity. The film's only misstep is its fixation on the competitors in a flamboyant Atlanta hair show. Far more entertaining are the barbershop conversations in which ordinary men jovially gripe about their honeys' hairdos; they're a brotherhood joined in financial commitment and - thanks to hands-off-the-head decrees at home - emotional frustration.

Salon

One thing Rock, as a guy, might not understand is that not all curly-wavy-kinky hair, regardless of the race of the person it belongs to, is the same. And keeping any hair "natural" can take a bit of work: Rock interviews actress Tracie Thoms (who appeared in Quentin Tarantino's Death Proof), who has the most beautiful head of tiny, perfectly formed corkscrew curls I've ever seen. Thank goodness she doesn't straighten it — but I suspect she takes great care keeping it conditioned, too.Regardless, Rock isn't out to chide people for the choices they make. And he allows himself to be the butt of a joke, too. When Maya Angelou, who is in her early 80s, tells him she didn't have her hair relaxed until she was about 70, he murmurs something about how she went "her whole life" without doing so. She counters mischievously, "Not my whole life, I'm still alive!" Rock laughs, a lot, during Good Hair, which suggests he's having a great time. It also suggests that while he won't be dictatorial with his own daughters, he wants them to be happy with the hair they've got — at least to the point of recognizing that good hair lies in the eye of the beholder.

Variety

It's telling that, with the exception of the Rev. Al Sharpton, who proudly flaunts his perm, Rock's subjects acknowledge that hair vanity is an almost exclusively female attribute. But to the comedian's credit, he doesn't let the guys off the hook, either, and an uproarious series of interviews with black male patrons at a barbershop brings the docu's battle-of-the-sexes subtext to the fore. There's something of a barbershop quality to Good Hair, in the way Rock creates a lively public forum for people to riff with delightful frankness on subjects that seem more taboo than they should be... [Rock] also spends a lot of time at the Bronner Bros. Intl. Hair Show, an annual hair-care convention in Atlanta. These segments, which bookend the pic, are a bit overextended, but an outrageous contest, pitting four leading stylists of black hair against each other, must be seen to be believed.

The Los Angeles Times

Not surprisingly, it is a story with money at its center — the multibillion-dollar business of black hair from the processes used to straighten it, to the money spent to weave straight hair over it, to the cultural stigma attached to it.Though Rock has a distinct point of view — natural is better — instead of outrage, he relies on irony and his own bemusement to walk us through a world he clearly finds troubling. Indeed, what carries this film is Rock, as both star and part of the writing team he has surrounded himself with old friends from The Chris Rock Show: writer-director Jeff Stilson and writers Chuck Sklar and Lance Crouther. The result is a documentary that weaves as much comedy as fact into the narrative, making the experience a satisfying entertainment even for the lucky few who have no hair cares at all.

The Washington Post

If the audience misses anything in Good Hair, it might be more testimony from African American women who have let their hair grow naturally, for whatever reason — aesthetic, philosophical or practical. "To keep my hair the same texture as it grows out of my head is looked at as revolutionary," says the actress Tracie Thoms. "Why is that?" The answer proves elusive, but Good Hair at least raises the question, with equal doses of affection, provocation and wisdom.

The Village Voice

Rock is certainly a sympathetic and curious observer, though including Ice-T's remark that "a real pimp can tell what a woman looks like baldheaded" betrays some of the gender politics that remain vigorously unexamined in this breezy, superficial doc.

Time Out New York

Good Hair is a slipshod doc about a fascinating subject: the loaded history and current complications of African-American hairstyling. The film is especially powerful in how it offhandedly shows certain races fomenting and exploiting the desires of others-these range from the obvious (the Caucasian-manufactured longing among black women to look more white) to the illuminating (the majority of black hair products are processed and sold by Koreans). Yet our tour guide through this sociopolitical miasma, Chris Rock, merely sees it as an opportunity to crack wise.

The Chicago Sun-Times

Chris Rock the host and narrator, is a likable man, quick, truly curious, with the gift of encouraging people to speak openly about a subject they usually keep private. He conveys a lot of information, but also some unfortunate opinions and misleading facts. That doesn't mean the movie isn't warm, funny and entertaining... What about the hazards of straightening? Rock shows a hair-raising demonstration of an aluminum Coke can literally being eaten up in a bath of sodium hydroxide. It may help to recall that another name for sodium hydroxide is "lye." God forbid a woman should put that on her head! What Rock doesn't mention is that few women do. If he had peeked in Wikipedia, he would have learned: "Because of the high incidence and intensity of chemical burns, chemical relaxer manufacturers have now switched to other alkaline chemicals." Modern relaxers can also burn if left on too long, but they won't eat up your Coke cans... The use of the word "natural hair" is, in any event, misleading. Take a stroll down the hair products aisle of a drugstore or look at the stock price of Supercuts. Few people of any race wear completely natural hair. If they did, we would be a nation of Unibombers.

Earlier: Oprah & Chris Rock Talk Good Hair
Sneak Peek: A Good Look At Good Hair

"I guess you just go through different phases in your life. I was pretty much at the point where I needed the change and I needed to focus my energy on more productive arenas. I was putting too much into my appearance and I needed to make this about growth and going to the next stage of my life. I felt like I was being distracted by something as simple as hair."

Solange reveals that it's not the first time she's cut her hair, and she's always changed her hair and gone through different phases:

I remember when I was 13 I went through my 'I-am-Miss-Natural, incense-burning, Bob Marley-playing, only-vintage-shop-wearing Solange.' So of course that included cutting my perm off, being a Vegan. I didn't quite understand yet that my hair did not define me. Then I remember being 16 and being like 'Okay, I can still be smart and I can still have the same beliefs that I have, but I did not have to have red Rasta braids. I can do that with straight hair. I can do that with a 'fro. I can do that with a weave down to my butt.'

But Solange seems to know that hair is a complicated issue — for everyone; not just black women.

"As a society we equate beauty with the images that have been placed in front of us since we were little kids. Every Disney movie, every fairy tale, every pop star typically has a certain aesthetic and look. I think that anytime we see something different, it freaks us out. The more people warmed up to it, and they saw more images of me with it and dressed up with my earrings and a little something, something on my face, I think then people were more willing to conform and accept it. Now, it's interesting how the first day I had it, I had nothing but negative, evil, cruel things in my inbox and then yesterday [after Oprah aired] I had 300,000 people saying 'Oh my God, you looked amazing, so beautiful, and you made us proud.'"

The entire interview is highly recommended: Solange spills on being a mother and about what kind of parents she has: "It's interesting that people think that my dad is the one who's all strict," she says. "They build up quite a character with that guy, and at the end of the day it's my mom who's going to give you the neck roll."

Plus, check out her response when asked "Five words to describe yourself?":

Water, blood, melanin, bones, and ... vajajay.

Solo in the City [Honey Mag]

Earlier: Solange Chops Hair, Is Called "Insane"

Oprah & Chris Rock Talk Good Hair

First up is Sarah Jones, Tony and Obie Award-winning playwright, actress, and poet. She talks about the "secret weave-y society" that her white friends did not understand. Even though there's comedy in Jones' anecdote, it's also a sad commentary on the fact that hair can serve as such a mysterious divide and cause of underlying tension in female relationships.

In this second clip, Chris Rock talks to some guys in a barber shop about the taboo of touching a black woman's hair. The men seem to enjoy bitching about how protective black women can be about their tresses, but unfortunately, they don't seem to realize that, in a way, they're part of the problem. While Chris Rock does seem to make an effort to get various points of view, hearing men talk about the problems they have with women's hair is a little annoying. That said, we can't wait to see the full film, which goes nationwide in theaters on October 23.

Good Hair [Official Site]

Earlier: Will We Ever Be Able to Stop Talking About Black Hair Politics?
Keeping Michelle's Hair In Perspective
Combing Through The Deeply Rooted Politics Of Black Hair Issues
Weaves, Extensions & "Creamy Crack": Chris Rock's Good Hair Trailer
Chris Rock's New Documentary Explores "Good" Hair