I dunno. Maybe British Black women do things a bit differently. I'll explain what I mean.
While doing my usual cyberspace perusing last weekend, there was an article that immediately caught my attention. I'm thinking that once you see the title, you'll totally understand why—"Why You Should Think Twice Before Touching a Black Woman's Hair During Sex" (it was a Cosmo UK piece).
The majority of that statement, I'm quite familiar with. Although I'm a naturalista who isn't bothered by someone touching my own hair, I get that it is a personal space issue and totally respect women who would prefer if folks did not. In fact, I'm starting to think that my neutral ground on the topic probably makes me the exception, not the rule:
However, it's one thing to have a random stranger approach you in the mall to ask if they can touch your hair. But shouldn't it be totally different if the person you're being intimate with wants to? I mean, they can be literally in you but it's a no-no for them to have their hands your hair simultaneously? Really?
To be fair, unlike a lot of articles that try to pass off as a true voice for our people (don't get me started), this particular piece did actually feature Black women who don't want their hair touched. Case in point, Dami Olonisakin is a 28-year-old sex and relationships blogger who wears wigs. According to her:
"I've never experienced my hair coming off during sex, but I've had it shift or change position which obviously isn't ideal. Thankfully there's never been a situation where everything has come off and I'm left embarrassed. When I'm intimate with someone for the first time I usually let them know beforehand not to touch my hair or do anything crazy. Just keep away from my hair."
Don't "do anything crazy" during sex? No disrespect, but what's the point in having it then?
The article went on to share that the only reason why hair pulling is even on the sex menu for Black women at all is because we've watched white women getting their hair pulled in porn (huh?!). Oh, and then there's this:
"Other sex acts that are common in porn are just not relatable to black women, including anything involving water. 'Even shower sex for me includes a shower cap a lot of the time. I wet my hair probably once every 12 days, so unless you catch me on wash day we're not having wet hair shower sex. My partner has to be flexible in understanding that with me hair is not a part of the seduction. Tossing my hair, putting your hands in it, or me running around with it wet isn't going to happen. I have so many other sensual, awesome parts about me that you can engage with."
So, no shower sex either? Chile.
I was so stumped that I asked some of the xoNecole team to help me out. They sent out a social media APB to y'all to see if it's true that hair pulling while doing-the-do is off indeed totally limits.
Although there were a few women (shoutout to @missemonique) who agreed that Solange was on point when she penned the song "Don't Touch My Hair" (although something tells me that Solange wasn't thinking about gettin' it in when she wrote it), most of you were all for coitus-coif-yanking.
@rockstarr_naturally: I'm natural do your thang
@womanistwonder: Pull my hair. It's real long & healthy!!!
@spicydevi: You betta pull that hair and let me feel that blood flow from the scalp to the toes…how else would I be submissive if you don't control the root to the toe
We even spoke in-depth with a few readers to get their raw and unfiltered consensus on the hair pulling during sex discussion:
Hair pulling adds to intimacy...
"During sex, I prefer aggression, so hair pulling is a major 'go' for me! I don't really have limits to it. But there is a form of delicacy that is needed for it to still remain sensual versus turning into being distasteful. I wouldn't consider hair being a complex for me now. There was a time it took a while for me to appreciate my natural hair because I didn't care for its density (I have fine hair). But I will say that I prefer to have it in some sort of style at all times. I think generally as women hair means so much to us no matter the race. There is a level of sensuality in hair and I think many men love being able to run their fingers through it during sex. I prefer my hair to be pulled during doggy style or reverse cowgirl! I don't have a preference in pulling but I enjoy having my partner pull my hair while talking dirty, smacking my bum is a go too! A little neck grabbing never hurt anyone either!" - @itssimplyjackson
Hair pulling is a part of my sensuality as a woman...
"I do love when my hair is pulled. I love when it's pulled because of the sensation it gives me (I'm turned on), but also for the submissiveness it gives to my guy. I like for him to feel in control, too. What I don't like is pulling too hard. I don't want to feel like my neck is about to be yanked off my head lol. As a black woman, hair definitely means something different to me. Not only is it my strength, it's also my confidence. Whether I wear weave or my natural tresses, I pride myself on making sure that if nothing else looks put together, my hair is. I do feel as though it plays a part in my sensuality whenever I engage in sex. Whether we are doing doggy style or I'm riding him, a strong grip/pull that pulls my head back ever so softly is all I need. Remember a strong grip and a soft pull/tug goes a long way." - @heyyychanelle
Hair pulling is a must for hitting it from the back...
"Yes, I like my hair pulled. Preferably when I have a protective style, like braids or a good weave. I don't mind when it's my real hair, but it's short so there's not much to pull lol. I like for my man to be in control so pulling my hair makes me feel like he's taking charge and control. It turns me on. I feel like we as black women have been told for YEARS how we should wear our hair, that it's ugly if it's a certain way, etc, so we may not see our hair as something to accentuate our sexuality. But lately, with the natural hair movement and us embracing our hair, whether natural, relaxed, braided, wigs/weaves, I think it might start to shift. With my boyfriend now, I love it when he pulls my hair slightly back and kisses me. Also, while he's hitting it from the back, I like for him to yank it a little bit and whisper some naughty/nasty things in my ear." - @twerkinforgas
Hair pulling turns me up even more during sex...
"For the most part, yes! Depending on the style though. It turns me on to be honest. It makes me want to turn up even MORE during sex. It makes me feel wanted, it's very sensual. [However] I'm all for comfort so if I have fresh braids or a fresh sew-in or even a silk press, I don't like my hair being messed up. My hair is a form of self-expression. I always feel sensual and powerful when my hair is done. I like firm but gentle tugs. Don't pull my shit like you're tryna rip my hair out, then it's a problem. And honestly, just ask." - @kiasmithwrites
Hair pulling is about the passion behind what's being done...
"I like that it's very dominating and sensual. I'm in so much control over my life that when my hair is pulled, it allows me to feel and just be in the moment. Hair is just hair. The passion behind why it's being done is what's more sensual than anything. My preference is don't be scared and don't pull too hard. Being intimate is energy and vibes. So, do what you feel in the moment, listen to your lover's body and moans, that should let you know what to do more or less of. Intimacy is a rhythmical captivating moment, and hair pulling is just a simple pleasure added to the melody of two." - @Mocha_chelle
Whew! I must admit that I was relieved to hear that most of us are not so consumed with our hair that it's actually preventing us from engaging in more passionate uninhibited sex; that while we do love our hair—including our wigs and extensions—we love sexual pleasure even more.
And for the women who haven't had hands in their hair during sex? If you happen to agree with Ms. Olonisakin and @missemonique, I'd like to pitch a little reading material your way.
Black Woman, Just Get Your Hair Wet! is a book that came out earlier this year. The premise is centered around how much the author missed out on swimming as a child because she (and her mother) was so consumed with not getting her hair wet; as a direct result, she developed somewhat of a complex and didn't have a ton of fun (during the summertime). She went on to share how that has served as a metaphor for a lot of risks she didn't take in life; how we as Black women could stand to "get our hair wet" more often—both personally as well as professionally. (That really is something to think about…isn't it?)
From the swimming pool to shower sex, there is so much you're missing out on if you're avoiding these things simply because you don't wanna mess up your hair. Just something to think about, sis.
How do you feel about hair pulling during sex? Let us know in the comments down below!
Featured image by Getty Images
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For Morgan Shaw Parker, President & COO of the Atlanta Dream, the conversation around pressure went even deeper. “Legacy work” is how she described her mission—navigating male-dominated spaces, sometimes pregnant and pumping on NFL team planes. “After COVID and George Floyd,” she shared, “it became clear to me: vulnerability is power. You don’t have to show up perfect to lead.”
Chelsea Fishman, founder of Atlanta's first bar dedicated to women’s sports, Jolene Jolene, shared how the haters (especially the Reddit kind) were her confirmation: “All those comments saying it would fail—those were the signs that I was doing something right.” She’s hosted 25+ watch parties already and is building the very community they said would never come.
This panel also touched on ambition, authenticity, and owning your power—both in sneakers and in suits. One of the best mic-drop moments came when the moderator flipped the question: “What if we stopped making ‘power’ a bad word for women?” A nod-worthy reminder that we’re not here to play small.
Making Your Voice Heard with Marsai Martin, Carol Martin, Miss Milan, and Heather McMahan
Marsai Martin
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This panel was a masterclass in staying grounded while growing up—or glamming up—on the global stage. Actress and producer Marsai talked about what it’s like to show up in high-pressure moments when your confidence is low but the world is still watching. From red carpets to long shoot days, she reminded us that even when you’re not at 100%, you still find a way to push through.
“There have been days where I wasn’t feeling the best, but I still had to show up on this carpet. Or it was that time of the month, but I still had to go on set. I just didn’t feel as confident—but it’s about how you take care of yourself in those moments and still keep pushing.”
Her mom and business partner Carol Martin dropped gems about motherhood and mentorship: “It’s like teaching your kid to ride a bike over and over again. Now the bike is a movie or a brand.” That balance between guiding and letting go? Not easy—but essential when you’re raising a mogul and running a company.
“There have been days where I wasn’t feeling the best, but I still had to show up on this carpet. Or it was that time of the month, but I still had to go on set. I just didn’t feel as confident—but it’s about how you take care of yourself in those moments and still keep pushing.”
Miss Milan, Grammy Award-winning DJ and Doechii’s right-hand woman, lit the crowd up with her no-nonsense energy. “I built my own table,” she said. “When you build it, they can’t tell you you can’t sit.” From journaling her dreams to manifesting Grammys, her story is one of resilience and intention—and a whole lot of faith in her own vision.
This panel didn’t shy away from hard truths either: the sadness that can come with success, the fear of fading relevance, the criticism that hits differently when it’s personal. But Marsai said it best: know your why. And let it evolve with you.
The Cost of Starting Your Own Business with Kandi Burruss and Nikki Ogunnaike
Kandi Burruss
Carol Lee Rose/ Getty Images for Marie ClaireKandi doesn’t sugarcoat the grind. From chart-topping songwriter to multi-business entrepreneur, she’s built her empire one risk—and one reinvention—at a time.
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She broke down the real costs of entrepreneurship: money, time, and emotional bandwidth. “You think you’re going to work less when you work for yourself?” she laughed. “You’re going to work more.” For Kandi, mommy guilt and financial setbacks are part of the package—but so is the satisfaction of seeing an idea through.
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One of her most memorable reflections? How her music career hiccup led her to songwriting—ultimately writing the mega-hit “No Scrubs.” That song became the key to a new lane and legacy. “You may think you’re working on one dream,” she said, “but it could open the door to another.”
Also? Kandi wants you to stop emailing her from a Gmail. “You’re doing million-dollar business on a bootleg budget,” she joked. “Invest in yourself. Start with a domain name!”
The Marie Claire Power Play Summit was a powerful reminder that ambition, authenticity, and vulnerability aren’t separate traits—they work in tandem. Whether you’re building a bar, a brand, or a business from scratch, the key is to stay rooted in your voice, your story, and your why.
And if you need a sign to go for it? Consider this your green light.
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Feature image by Paras Griffin/ Getty Images for Power Play