Non-Black Biological Mothers of Biracial Black Daughters: How to Build Your Daughters' Hair Esteem

It has happened twice in my life, once when I was in my early twenties, the other last week.  The first time, I was so taken aback that I didn't respond.  Last week, I did.

What is it, you ask?  It was the following:  Having a non-black woman who was dating a black man say to my face, "I hope our kids have MY hair."  In both cases, the women were Latina.

The first time it happened, I was an exchange student in Spain speaking to one of my fellow Stanford exchange students.  She was dating an African-American Stanford student who was on the football team.  While discussing her boyfriend, and while wearing a sweater I had loaned her, she made her remark.

I was stunned.  So stunned, I didn't respond.  If she didn't want her children to have her boyfriend's hair, what did that say about what she thought of her boyfriend and his hair?  Better yet, what was she thinking saying that to my face and my very visible African hair while wearing my sweater, twirling the ends of  her long, straight brown locks while saying it, no less?

The second time was last week.  Yet again, another Latina dating another black man said the exact same words: "I hope our kids have MY hair."

This time, I sprang into action, thirty years wiser.

"Oh, no you don't.  You don't get to say that, and you don't get to think it.  You don't get to make your daughter feel bad about her hair just because it isn't like yours.  You're going to be her mother and you don't get to do that."

What I was too polite to say was this:

If you're thinking you can sleep with a black man and have kids with straight hair, you're fooling yourself.  You need to prepare yourself to send that daughter out into the world with some hair esteem, no matter the texture of her hair.

And so begins this blog entry to non-black biological mothers of biracial black daughters:  You decided to marry or sleep with a black man; you don't get to make your black daughter feel bad about her hair because it isn't like yours, precisely because you are her mother.  Her feelings of self esteem and hair esteem will depend on the words that come from you, especially since she carries your DNA and probably looks like you.

I began a frank discussion with the offending woman and another woman who is a non-black mother of a biracial black child.  Here's the jist of what I had to say:

1.  Your frustration with styling her hair is not her problem; it's yours.  You don't get to degrade her or the texture of her hair because it is harder for you to manage than your own.  Your job is to make her feel good about her hair, no matter its texture, because the world is gonna do a number on her and she's going to need all the hair esteem she can get.  Even if you don't feel that way, fake it until you make it.

2.  You don't get to call her hair "bad hair" or "good hair," even if black folks do.  Especially if black folks do.  I don't allow the use of the terms "good hair" or "bad hair" in my home.  We can discuss texture differences, but I don't allow anyone to put value judgments on texture in my home.  I refuse to perpetuate that.

That isn't to say that black folks don't do this still.  It's abhorrent.  That said, you, as a non-black mother of a black biracial daughter, don't get to do that, and you need to stop anyone from doing that in her presence.

3.  Get help.  If you don't know how to style black hair, get help.  If you see a black woman whose hair you like, ask where she gets it styled.  Ask the women in your boyfriend's/husband/'s/babydaddy's family to educate you.  And ask with humility and without disdain for your child's hair.  You come to this in a position of weakness -- you need to learn how to do your child's hair, and you're probably going to have to ask black women who may or may not be too keen on the fact that you took a black man away from black women (even if he didn't even like black women) AND can't do the hair of the daughter who resulted from your theft.  That said, a gift of flowers or some wine might not be a bad idea.

4.  You can't straighten your daughter's hair by pulling it back tight; you'll only end up pulling it out.  I've seen this time and again -- non-black mothers of black biracial daughters trying to fake the appearance of straight hair by putting tons of hair products and water in the kid's hair and pulling it back tight in rubber bands, barrettes, you name it.  Ever heard of traction alopecia?  That's when you lose your hair around the sides of your head from pulling it back too tight.  Don't do that to your daughter's hair.  Work with the texture she has, not the texture you wish she had, which leads to my next point:

5. If you don't know what you're doing, don't put any chemicals on your daughter's hair.  I'm talking kiddie perms, Brazilian blowouts, you name it.  These chemicals are usually some variation on sodium hydroxide (lye) or calcium hydroxide and can burn the child's scalp if left on too long.  I wasn't allowed to get a relaxer until shortly before I left for college; my mother didn't believe in putting chemicals on her daughters' hair when we were young.  She pressed a lot of hair for a long time, but to this day my sisters and I have full heads of hair and not a weave between us.  Thanks, Mom.

6. Instead of emphasizing what she can't do with her hair, emphasize what she can do with her hair.  There are a multitude of styles black women and girls can rock that people with straight hair can't -- braids, cornrows, twists, locks, pressed hair, relaxed hair, afros.  Make it fun for your daughter and change it up so she can take pride in her hair's versatility.  If you make getting her hair done a beauty ritual and add to it other beauty rituals like a mani-pedi, she'll feel beautiful all around.

7.  Use hair care products that are good for black hair and wash black hair less frequently than white hair.  I, for one, don't use Pantene -- it strips the crap out of my hair and leaves it feeling dry.  I've switched to Wen, which doesn't strip my hair's oils.  I've also heard good things about the Carol's Daughter line of hair care products.  I also don't wash my hair daily and neither do most of the black women I know because of the drying effect that most shampoos have on our hair.  Get advice on hair care products from your daughter's relatives on her dad's side of the family or from a stylist who specializes in black hair.  If you're in the Sacramento area, I highly recommend Miasha Helton of It's My Hair -- she has done segments on "Good Day Sacramento" on styling biracial children's hair. And finally:

8. Give your daughter permission to tell people not to touch her hair.  If she's outnumbered at school by kids with straight hair, her hair is going to be a curiosity to them.  That doesn't mean that she should be some de facto museum exhibit that they can touch and feel.  You need to empower her to tell people not to touch her hair just because it's different from theirs.  She doesn't have to be mean about it, but she shouldn't be subjected to unwanted touching because she's different and in the minority.  The analogy I make is that if you wouldn't touch Queen Elizabeth's crown, you shouldn't touch mine, and my hair is my crown.

With this, I hope I have empowered you to love your biracial black daughter and her hair, no matter it's texture.


No, Sir Charles, It Isn't a Black League; It's a Black Players' Association

In all the comments on sports shows about the alleged racist comments of Los Angeles Clippers owner Donald Sterling (and yes, even old racists are entitled to due process, so until they're authenticated, they are "alleged" comments), the one that caught my attention the most was from Charles Barkley, AKA Sir Charles.  In making the argument that, if the remarks were indeed Sterling's then he shouldn't be allowed to keep his franchise, Sir Charles argued, "It's a black league."

Well, actually, Sir Charles, it isn't.  The players' association may be black, but the NBA is not a black league.  It is a majority white-owned league with a majority of black players.

A couple of things also stood out to me.  I don't think that Sterling just woke up the other day in bed with his partially black girlfriend and became a racist.  If indeed he was sued twice for housing racial discrimination while he was the owner of the Clippers, why didn't the league question his ethics and morals then?  Even better -- doesn't anyone find it the least bit troubling that he's still married and has a girlfriend?  Last I checked, married is married -- until you're divorced, you're not single.  If Sterling is doing the humpty dance with his partially black girlfriend, isn't that adultery?  Oh, but no, that's just a man thing, easily overlooked by a male-dominated sport.

Anyhoo, back to my point.  The NBA is not a black league.  If it were, the majority of the owners would be black.  Instead, it is a white league with a majority of black employees, er, players.  This raises the question:  If, as Sir Charles asserts, over 70 percent of the league's players are black, why haven't they all gotten together and pooled their money to actually own more teams?  Why haven't they played for equity stakes in their teams?  I would think that if that 70 percent got together and decided that 70 percent of the owners were going to be black or there would be no NBA, there'd be a sea change.  Hell, what would happen if that 70 percent played to the end of their contracts, all walked away at once, and started their own damn league?

But no, instead, black players have not kicked down the door to majority black ownership using their own resources and market power.  And guess what?  When you don't own shit, you can't control shit.  Sterling might be fined or suspended, but I doubt that he'll lose his franchise.  Why?

Because there are probably more than a few NBA franchise owners who have said comments they'd just as soon the public not hear and are thinking, "There but for the grace of God . . . ."

Pimpin' My Water

I live in California, and we're in the midst of one of the worst droughts ever.  I'm old enough to remember the most recent worst drought during the '70's,when my dad did his part for water conservation by putting a brick in the toilet tank.  Our governor has declared a drought emergency, halted deliveries of water to central valley farms, and asked consumers to reduce their water usage by 20%.  It goes without saying that when the governor is willing to suspend water supplies to the state's largest industry (and no, it's not film making; it's agriculture), we're in dire straits, indeed.

The price of fruits and vegetables is going to go up.  And Yours Truly likes homegrown tomatoes in the summer.  How can I have my summer veggie garden AND reduce my water usage by 20%?

By pimpin' my water.

Black Man Not Blogging (BMNB) and I are pretty water conservative.  We don't run the washer or the dishwasher without a full load.  We rarely wash our cars at home.  Our lawn is watered by sprinklers on a timer, and most, but not all, of our shrubs are on drip irrigation.  We have low flow toilets and low flow shower heads.  Although our HOA told us we could let our lawn go fallow, BMNB isn't falling for it.  "They'll be the first ones to turn around and tell you that you better get your lawn green after you've let it die."  He'd rather take the hit and water the lawn instead of replacing it later on.

What's a homegrown tomato lover to do?

First, you start conserving.  I've put a 5 gallon bucket (You can get them cheaply at Home Depot) in my shower, and when I run the shower to warm up the shower water, the cold water goes right into the bucket.  I keep the bucket in the shower for any bodily runoff.  Between me and BMNB, we're averaging about 5 to 7 gallons or more a day of reclaimed water from the shower.  I take it an additional step by taking "sailor showers," which I learned from my dad, who served in the Navy.  As one of six kids, shower time was at a premium when I was small.  My dad taught us to wet yourself up, soap yourself down, rinse yourself off, and get out, all without leaving the shower running completely during the process. As much as I love long showers with continuously running hot water, a homegrown tomato lover's gotta do what she's gotta do.

After conserving water, you start pimpin' the water you have.  That reclaimed shower water?  I'm using that to water the shrubs that are on drip irrigation as well as the ones that are not, like my Heirloom and Fiesta roses and my Freecycle irises (I got them off of Freecycle).  So far, they're looking good.  I've told BMNB to turn off the drip irrigation.  Most of our shrubs are drought resistant -- sage, lavender, Nile lily, rock roses, jasmine, Shasta daisies  -- and can take reduced watering.  The magnolias on our lawn are a bit more temperamental, but they get watered with the lawn.  We're cutting back on watering the lawn, too, but not so much that it will die.

I also reclaim any water I use to wash any laundry or CPAP equipment I wash by hand -- panty hose, delicate blouses, breathing hoses, you name it.  Not only do I reclaim the water they soaked in, I rinse each item over a bucket and reclaim that water, too.  I even reclaimed a tub of bath water and watered my front lawn with it.

The water that would have gone to the drip irrigated shrubs?  That's the water I'm using for my veggie garden.  I don't know if it's a one-for-one match, but I'm betting that it is.   I've always watered my summer veggie garden by hand, using watering cans.  It's easier for me to keep track of how much water I'm giving each row or type of plant.. BMNB could not get comfortable with the idea of using reclaimed water to grow the vegetables he would eat (I'm sure he thought of it as "booty water," since some of it rolled off our bodies in the shower), so I had to be creative -- pimpin' reclaimed water for use on my drip-irrigated shrubs, using the water I would have used on my shrubs to water the veggies, and cutting back my total water consumption as much as possible.

I'm sure you're asking yourself, "Does she love homegrown tomatoes that much?"

Yes, I do.  I really do. Besides, if I don't grow my own vegetables this summer, who will?

Black Woman Blogging's 2020 Not-Fucking-Around Guide to Voting Securely and Her California Voter Guide

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