Latest news with #microaggressions
The Guardian
11 hours ago
- General
- The Guardian
How I unlearned the internalised prejudice I had as a Black woman – one braid at a time
At the start of 2023, a couple of months after a trip to Jamaica with friends, where we spoke extensively about our hair, I made my first new year resolution in more than a decade. I was going to try a wider variety of hairstyles. For most of my 20s, I had two styles: long, dark, medium-sized box braids (where hair is divided into square sections, and each is then braided into a single plait) or, very occasionally, a weave. Now, I decided, I would switch things up – whether trying a new colour, length or type of braid. This may not seem groundbreaking but for me it genuinely was. It was never just about hair, it ran deeper than that. I had come to realise that my own understanding of stereotypes about Black women had been learned from years of experiencing microaggressions: from comments on how good my English was, despite being British, or being followed around supermarkets by security guards – as well as seeing how women who looked like me were portrayed on TV. Without my knowing, on some level, I had become increasingly conscious of the 'vibe' I was giving off, before I even spoke. This, in turn, had influenced my hair, dress sense, and, at times, my very behaviour. I wanted to break free from internalised prejudices I didn't even realise I had. Growing up in the UK, my hair was my way of trying to minimise false assumptions about me based solely on the colour of my skin. Throughout my 20s, the styles I went for were 'safe', nothing that could be misconstrued as conforming to some sort of stereotype, such as being 'messy', unkempt, or even unclean. Society is already unfairly rigged against Black women: more than two in three Black professionals have experienced racial prejudice at work, and Black women are considered the least desirable on dating apps. Why give society another excuse to treat me unfairly? Emma Dabiri, an Irish academic and author of the 2019 book Don't Touch My Hair, also feels a shift in how others engage with her when she wears different styles. With straight-back cornrows, she is 'treated more aggressively by people,' she says. But beyond hostility alone, 'the difference in how I'm treated when I have my afro v goddess braids, a style which is long and conforms to established notions of femininity, is night and day,' too, she adds. Goddess braids see strands of hair added to plaits to create a long wavy flowing effect. Natural black hair 'generally grows up rather than down,' she says, which doesn't fit into 'a western construction of femininity that has now been spread all over the world.' The natural hair movement, which saw Black women embrace their hair texture rather than straightening it, originated in the US during the 1960s. At the time, the movement centred on wearing an afro and was on a small scale, often limited to homemade hair products. It had a resurgence in the early 00s, though, thanks to technological advancements and to an extent, social media, and online tutorials. At the same time, there was an increasing awareness of the dangers of products that were once widely recommended which have been linked to severe health problems. For better or worse, new products appeared on the market which seemed to reflect not simply an acceptance of Black hair, but an embrace. Many women used this as an opportunity to embrace new styles. In 2009, Solange Knowles, did the Big Chop, a term used in Black communities to define a dramatic haircut one does to get rid of chemically processed or damaged hair. She has since become known for platinum blonde braids and a full head of beads. But, in turn, this embrace of textured hair came with unwanted comments, touching and judgment, perfectly exemplified by Knowles's subsequent song Don't Touch My Hair in 2016. Indeed, 93% of Black people in the UK have faced microaggressions related to their afro hair, according to a 2023 study. However, Dabiri says: 'We're seeing a shift back towards hairstyles that conform to Eurocentric beauty standards.' According to St Clair Detrick-Jules, author of My Beautiful Black Hair, which features more than 100 first-person accounts from Black women on their hair, texturism – discrimination against someone based on their hair texture often under the premise that hair that more closely resembles a white person's is more desirable – is a prevailing issue in Black communities. 'Even within the natural hair movement, within our own community, people with looser curl patterns are considered more beautiful, attractive, or professional,' she says. Dabiri agrees: 'We have to develop a genuine love for Black hair that is not long, that is not curly, that is tightly coiled.' As a child, my mother embraced my natural hair and encouraged me to try a variety of looks. That all came to a halt in my teens when hairdressers began refusing to do my hair because it was 'too afro-y' and, therefore, in their eyes, too difficult to manage. This is all the more eye-opening when you consider that I grew up in east London, a place seemingly known for its diversity. I remember a white male teacher calling me into his office to explain why he thought my hairstyle wasn't nice. Hair mishaps are a rite of passage for most teenagers – but a bun with a fringe is hardly a reason to be taken aside. Yet even to this day, Black girls are still more likely to be sent home for 'inappropriate' hair. On some level, I must have internalised what he said though; relaxing my hair and putting it into 'neat' braids became my go-to style for years. For me it wasn't until 2019, when I saw a video of Dabiri in a style known as Fulani braids, a mixture of cornrows and single plaits, which she wore with brown and blond hair extensions, that things changed. In the video, she explained the term 'blackfishing' for i-D magazine. Mesmerised by the mixture of natural and gold colours, I did the same to my own hair. That same year, Dabiri released Don't Touch My Hair, a series of essays on Black women and hair. In it, she wrote: 'In our desire to see our own beauty acknowledged, we forget that the beauty regime is an oppressive construct designed to keep women in a state of heightened insecurity.' Six years later, Dabiri says: 'When I wrote that book, I felt very optimistic about many things. It was just a different era and I'm glad I wrote it then.' Detrick-Jules says 'representation really does matter, and there have been positive changes,' pointing out two notable examples of women in the public eye wearing their natural hair: Michelle Obama, who 'started embracing more Afrocentric hairstyles' after leaving the White House, and Viola Davis in the American legal drama How to Get Away with Murder, where her character, 'takes her wig off and reveals her natural hair.' 'It's not that I think celebrities are superior, but they have such a huge impact on how we, especially as women, perceive ourselves and our beauty,' she adds. The fact that a new crop of hair brands by and for Black women, which includes Cécred by Beyoncé and Pattern Beauty by Tracee Ellis Ross, have made it into the mass market is not insignificant. Looking back, my copying Dabiri's hairstyle is a prime example. My hairstyle had been intransigent for years. All it took was for someone I admire, and who looked like me, to push me in a new direction. 'It just goes to show that you never know what will influence someone,' Dabiri says. 'It's important for people to see somebody like them in the mainstream with cornrows or even a big 'fro.' Detrick-Jules adds: 'We also see it on an everyday level. The more you see your Black female teachers with natural hair, for example, it has a positive upward spiral – a domino effect.' Community helps too. Charlotte Mensah, founder of the award-winning salon Hair Lounge on Portobello Road, west London, remembers the joy she felt on seeing a Black female employee at Google 'confidently wearing a beautiful full head of auburn faux locs,' a dreadlock-style look which involves blending synthetic hair extensions with natural hair and which felt happily unexpected in this setting. 'Few things have made me smile as much this year,' says Mensah. 'A style that might once have been dismissed as ostentatious was being worn proudly at one of the largest corporations in the world.' When I was a teenager, it was hard to find extensions that properly emulated the look of natural hair let alone salons that catered to it. But during the pandemic, when I was thrust into doing my own hair again, I realised things had changed. I even tried a wig for the first time. Clients at A-list Lace Hair, a shop in West Kensington founded in 2009, include Naomi Campbell, Knowles – and now me. The brown wavy mid-length wig allowed me to put my hair in a protective style underneath (a technique used to shield hair from environmental and styling stress). 'Over the past 15 years, I've seen a remarkable shift in how our clients view wigs,' says founder Antonia Okonma Shittu. 'What once may have been seen as a necessity for managing afro-textured hair, or adhering to professional standards, has evolved into an empowering form of artistry.' Wigs, she says, 'are deeply emotive for many Black women because they represent more than just a styling choice – they're tools of self-expression, reinvention, and empowerment.' As I gained confidence in my ability to look after my natural hair, and grew out the chemically altered parts, I then began wearing afro-textured hair extensions by Ruka Hair. The hair looked so close to my own that it essentially enhanced my afro, adding length rather than truncating it 'Growing up and navigating the beauty industry as a Black woman, I constantly felt excluded,' says one of the founders, Tendai Moyo, who knew something had to change when she realised that this wasn't just her struggle 'but a universal pain point for Black women.' Reflecting on how I styled and treated my hair all these years has allowed me to unlearn a lifetime of being told that my Blackness made me less beautiful, less equipped for the job, less worthy of a Tinder match. I still love my braids – my weaves, too. Funnily enough, when I recently got my hair done (the style you see in this piece), I went for the braids that started it all, but now they take on a new meaning for me, one that doesn't include beauty standards designed for me to fail.
Daily Mail
31-05-2025
- Politics
- Daily Mail
WNBA in fresh racism storm after Dijonai Carrington confronts referee and blasts 'insane' treatment
Dallas star Dijonai Carrington appeared to claim she was the victim of racial discrimination after a WNBA referee called security during a bust-up on the court. In a clip that has now gone viral on social media, Carrington is seen talking to referee Roy Gulbeyan at the end of the Wings' loss against the Chicago Sky on Thursday. The official can then be seen ushering a member of security staff to stand between himself and Carrington. The guard, who sparked controversy last season after leaving Caitlin Clark with a black eye and then clashing with a reporter over the collision, accused Gulbeyan of an 'insane' overreaction. 'Security,' she wrote on social media. 'When I'm literally having a civil conversation is insane. Mind you, he called the 'sEcUrItY' over there… #Mircoagression (sic)' Microaggressions are defined by the American Psychological Association as 'commonly occurring, brief, verbal or nonverbal, behavioral, and environmental indignities that communicate derogatory attitudes or notions toward a different 'other.'' security… , when i'm literally having a civil conversation is insane . mind you , he called the 'sEcUrItY' over there… #Mircoagression — dιjonaι carrιngтon♛ (@DijonaiVictoria) May 30, 2025 According to Merriam-Webster, microaggressions 'express a prejudiced attitude toward a member of a marginalized group (such as a racial minority).' The Daily Mail has reached out to the WNBA and Dallas Wings for comment. Carrington did not expand on the hashtag but the WNBA was recently embroiled in a racism saga following the season opener between the Sky and the Indiana Fever, when Clark clashed with rival Angel Reese. Afterwards, the league launched an investigation into claims of racist abuse directed at Reese. Earlier this week, however, the league said it could substantiate claims of racist fan behavior after a probe that included gathering information from fans, team and arena staff, as well as an 'audio and video review of the game.' Carrington found herself at the center of a racism storm following her own clash with Clark last season. After catching the Fever superstar in the eye, Carrington was asked if it was intentional and whether she later laughed about the incident. That sparked a furious statement from the WNBA players association, who branded the line of questioning: 'A blatant attempt to bait a professional athlete into participating in a narrative that is false and designed to fuel racist, homophobic and misogynistic vitriol on social media.'
The Independent
31-05-2025
- Lifestyle
- The Independent
I'm gay – I don't want to be surrounded by children on holiday
In a contested year for really bad ideas, this is a howler – or should that be howleur? Because the French have proposed a new law that would mean hotels and restaurants that don't admit children could be prosecuted. Quelle horreur. France 's high commissioner for childhood, Sarah El Haïry, said that the hospitality industry was showing signs of a 'no-kids trend', and that, she said, was ' violence against children'. She particularly took aim at adults like me, who object to being disturbed by other people's kids when on holiday. 'A child shouts, laughs and moves,' she said. 'We're institutionalising the idea that silence is a luxury and the absence of children is a luxury.' Damn right we are – and it's a luxury I won't give up without a fight. Because such a ban on 'adult-only' establishments would be inadvertently homophobic. It's an overlooked and under-discussed topic, and potentially taboo to say, but whoever proposed this ban hasn't faced the microaggressions that gay people like me face daily – from children. They can't help it – they're kids. But kids don't have the same filter that fully socialised adults do. And that lack of filter can spoil my holiday, cherished time I take out away from the microaggressions of the everyday straight world. They're not things like outright hostility or violence; it's the small things that add up to make you feel like you're not welcome. They catapult you back to when you were treated as an outsider, a freak, a 'queer', just for being you. When I'm affectionate in public with a partner, as everyone should be able to be on holiday – and the French, of all people, should get this – children who haven't witnessed much same-sex affection will often stare. They sometimes point, whisper or giggle. This is what I mean by a microaggression – and it's one I can do without. You get tired of being someone else's learning curve. That includes staring kids. I don't blame them for doing it. But so many times, in places where kids are allowed, me and my boyfriend (who am I kidding? Holiday romance…) often end up self-censoring to the point we'll refrain from even holding hands. Recently, I got sick of reigning it in that this year, for the first time, I stayed in a gay-friendly resort in Mexico, the Spartacus Hostel for Men in Puerto Vallarta. It was a revelation. Surrounded only by other gay men, I… exhaled. I was no longer in a minority. We could be as gay as we liked, without fear of upsetting or confusing conservative families with children. It was hugely liberating. Under French plans, such places of freedom would be prosecuted. I would avoid France if it instigated such a ban. And we must raise our voices before an idea like this spreads. It's not just for people like me who want to be gay in peace. My female best friend is happily childless by choice. We both adore adult-only establishments. We live on opposite sides of the world so our quality quiet time together, without the interruption of kids, is important to us. She would resist such a mindless ban, given she gets judged enough for a choice she sees as empowering, when others see it, infuriatingly, as sympathy-inducing. We love our friends' children, but we need spaces where our own behaviour isn't policed. Where we can swear, flirt, drink cocktails, tell sordid stories without having to live up to 'child friendly' behaviour standards. There are just a handful of magical 'men-only' hostels and hotels in the world, catering to gay men like me who want to truly relax without worrying, for once, about upsetting anyone's 'innocent' sensibilities. In addition, there's only a relatively small cohort of adult-only venues worldwide, designed for people who don't hate kids, but simply desire a week or two without them. According to most recent statistics, France is still the world's most visited country. But it risks kissing goodbye to that top spot if it proceeds with this ill-considered and stigmatising ban. Well… mwah!
