Why Do People Think Wearing Protective Styles Means Black Women Hate Their Hair?
Black women’s natural hair is constantly a topic of conversation. Whether it’s in the workplace, on the red carpet, or in everyday life, how Black women choose to style their hair will always be a topic. This constant bombardment of opinions, both inside and outside of the Black community, about the way Black women’s hair is presented to the rest of the world can be a lot to manage and process at times.
Though we sang along with India.Arie, as she serenaded us with her classic “I Am Not My Hair,” Black women’s hair is indeed a statement of who they choose to be when they show up in the world each day. Valencia Carillo of Perfect Hair says, “We like to say we aren't our hair, but we also are. It changes how we feel and how we view ourselves.”
There are many reasons Black women choose protective styles such as braids, twists, and wigs as their go-to styles for everyday life.
“I wear protective styles because it's not only convenient to manage, but I love it," shares Bobbie Riley, celebrity hair and makeup artist. As a Black woman who is constantly on various sets throughout Los Angeles, I’m always aware of my hair and the lack of knowledge some have about it. I want to feel confident when doing shoots, but know there’s always a chance that the HMU on set won’t be prepared to style me accordingly. This is why I choose protective styles so frequently when shooting. However, when I’m not booked, I enjoy having my natural hair free.
Today, more Black women are embracing their natural hair and protective styles while pushing boundaries they wouldn’t have been able to less than a decade ago. Abena Afrane, a licensed celebrity cosmetologist, says, “There's a noticeable shift, even among news anchors, who now confidently wear hairstyles like braids on TV.” Yet, even with this shift, a new conversation is emerging about Black women and protective styles.
Though we see many Black women wearing their natural hair publicly, there is also a new lingering question, “Is Black women’s ‘reliance’ on protective styles simply another way we’ve found to hide a piece of ourselves in order to be deemed more presentable?”
WHY WE DO NOT LIKE OUR OWN HAIRwww.youtube.com
The truth of it all lies somewhere much deeper than that.
The History of Hair Discrimination
To fully understand where the stigma and desire to assimilate comes from, we have to venture to the origin of hair discrimination in America. Black women’s hair has been used as a weapon against them since the inception of this country. The coils of our hair are one of the most prominent features that distinguishes Black people from other races, and because of this, it’s been used to make us feel inferior.
One example of this would be the origins of the term “nappy.” It’s believed that the origin of the term comes from the word nap, which described the frizzled thread that came apart from a piece of fabric. The term “nappy” was used to describe African slaves’ hair to demean and dehumanize them.
Likewise, because of the intricate braiding styles and designs our ancestors brought to America from the continent, Black women were often forced to hide their hair. This was used as a tool to shame Black women, create a racial hierarchy, and hide our culture.
An example of this was the Tignon Laws of 1786. When the Spanish took control of Louisiana, there was a population of free Black people living in the state. To display a cultural hierarchy, the governor mandated that free Black women wear tignon, head scarves historically worn by slaves, as a means to display their inferiority to white women.
Cabinet Card of Sarah Ann Blunt Crozley wearing a tignon in the 1800s.
Heritage Art/Heritage Images via Getty Images
Though they complied, they began to use them not only as a fashion statement, making them out of colorful and expensive fabrics and adding feathers and jewels to them, but also as a means of rebellion against their colonial ruling powers.
As time went on, Black women began to attempt to assimilate into white culture by straightening their hair. The famous Madame C.J. Walker made her fortune helping Black women manage and permanently straighten their hair. Though Walker’s business thrived and enabled other Black women to build wealth, today, many Black women are moving away from relaxers and consistently straightening their hair.
Black women are now embracing their natural hair with each passing year, but this emergence of unapologetic Blackness is often met with pushback.
Where Do Protective Styles Come From?
Protective styles are not a new phenomenon within the Black community or our African ancestry. The texture of most Black women’s hair easily gets tangled and knotted and can succumb to breakage if not well cared for properly. This reality has led centuries of Black women to find ways to protect and maintain their crowns. There are Stone Age paintings dating back to 3000 BC of North African women wearing braids in their hair.
What we call cornrows – named by enslaved Africans in the American South because they looked like rows of corn – are also known as irun didi by Yoruba people. The intricate nature of this style was not only practical but easier to maintain for an extended amount of time.
Similarly, Fulani braids – named after the Fulani people of West Africa – were used as a symbol of a woman’s marital status, career, or socio-economic class in pre-slave trade Africa. Likewise, Bantu knots – named after the Bantu group of the Zulu people – were used as a heatless curling technique for Black women centuries before it gained popularity in mainstream America.
Delmaine Donson/Getty Images
As chronicled in Hair Story: Untangling the Roots of Black Hair in America by Ayana D. Byrd and Lori L. Tharps, the everchanging and cyclical relationship Black people have with their hair is often a reflection of their desire for freedom or connection to their ancestral roots. Growing up in the 90s, braids, twists, ponytails, wigs, etc. were commonplace in my and my mother’s friend groups.
Black women looking for ways to manage and care for their hair isn’t a new concept, but protective styles transition into the mainstream arena has created new conversations centered around whether Black women are using it as a mechanism to hide their natural hair.
Instead of acknowledging that Black women are becoming more comfortable with embracing themselves and their heritage, their choice of hairstyle is yet another sector where individuals have been allowed to over-police and analyze them.
Hair Discrimination Today
Global Head of DEI for Ferguson Partners Dionna Johnson Sallis admits she has experienced and witnessed hair discrimination towards Black women multiple times during her 13-year tenure in corporate America. She says, “wearing straight wigs or getting sew-ins that mirror the Eurocentric form of beauty can be a form of fitting in.” Sallis continues, “But I think many of us lean toward the more Afrocentric forms of a protective styling such as braids, twists, faux locs, and things that are more textured.”
I agree with Sallis and often use protective styles that still fully display my “Blackness,” because my goal is never to make any believe I’m ashamed of my culture or ancestry. However, there was a time when wearing my natural hair to work, whether it be in front of or behind the camera, was seen as unkempt or unprofessional.
I was told to make sure my hair was “neat” when I came into the office or was a prominent topic of discussion whenever I wore my fro out.
Luckily, I have always had older Black women around to remind my white coworkers not to touch my hair or make a big deal out of a new style I had. Nonetheless, these constant microaggressions can weigh on a person while begging the question: “Should I just cover my natural hair so they’ll shut up already?”
Sallis believes experiences like the ones I describe are less prominent today; “Because of the CROWN Act, it is made it more difficult to be discriminated against because there is a very blatant law in place to prevent this discrimination and microaggressions compared to 10 or 15 years ago.”
Strides like these have come as a result of Black women mobilizing to pursue true equity for themselves and future generations. Afrane adds, “I've observed a significant change where we're boldly advocating for equality and inclusivity in professional spaces. It's inspiring to witness us standing up and speaking out for ourselves.”
Black Women’s Rights to Their Individuality
Depending on what your daily life looks like, protective styles can be an easy way to manage and maintain your natural hair in a healthy manner. Carillo has been doing my protective styles for years, and we often talk about our busy lives managing businesses, being mothers, and still wanting to feel like ourselves. Like many Black women, we use our hair as a form of expression and style. Carillo says, “At the end of it all, I think most Black women choose what we want and what makes us feel good.” Afrane agrees, “It feels like we're collectively embracing hairstyles that bring us joy and align with our lifestyles.”
Though there will always be podcast conversations on whether or not natural hair is appropriate for formal events and people trying to create a divide between Black women who mainly wear weave and wigs versus the ones who wear their afro regularly, the one consensus I found among the women I interviewed is there is some level of awareness, whether positive or negative, Black women experience in relationship to their hair and how others perceive them.
Delmaine Donson/Getty Images
Riley shared a recent experience on set with one of her clients where the brand wanted a fiber fill to give her client a more “hair-like look.” Riley and her client both agreed it wasn’t the direction they wanted to go and continued with their original aesthetic for the shoot. “I loved her facial structure and her hair how it was, and I wanted her to feel just as beautiful embracing it,” Riley says.
Carillo adds, “Insecurities are real, and while we love to do what we need to for us, I'd be lying to say some women don't consider what others think.”
As we all know, existing in the intersectionality of Black womanhood comes with a slew of challenges, disparities, and dangers. However, just as the women of Louisiana in 1786 used their tignons as a form of expression, creativity, and rebellion, Black women today embrace our crowns the same way. One of the greatest joys many of us experience as Black women are switching up our hairstyles to match our mood, occasion, or season.
We find liberation in changing our styles to express who we are in the current moment we’re existing in. Though there are some who may use protective styles as a means to assimilate into Eurocentric culture, far more of us change our hairstyles to match our vibe. Afrane says, “The joy lies in the freedom to explore various looks, and it feels like we're collectively embracing hairstyles that bring us joy.”
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'Act II': Beyoncé's Country Era Is Paying Homage To Black Artists & Daring Us To Exist In Any Space We Choose
Super Bowl Sunday Queen Bey struck again, snatching all our edges and keeping us in the same chokehold we’ve been in for the past couple of decades. After her Verizon commercial, where she alluded to her power to break the internet, Beyoncé essentially broke the internet with her announcement that Renaissance Act II would be released on March 29, 2024. The final drop in this marketing masterpiece was the release of two new singles, “16 CARRIAGES” and “TEXAS HOLD ‘EM,” which have both soared to number one and two in the iTunes country music category.
However, despite the pure excitement by the BeyHive to follow Beyoncé wherever she leads them, there has already been pushback in the country music arena to deny the Queen access. Oklahoma station KYKC 100.1 FM denied a listener's request to hear Beyoncé’s new songs on its station because “We do not play Beyoncé' [sic] as we are a country music station," it responded via email.
This isn’t the first time Beyoncé has been dismissed in the genre. In 2016, when she released "Daddy’s Lessons" on Lemonade, she not only was met with backlash from country music fans but was also denied by the Recording Academy’s Country Committee after she submitted the record for a Grammy.
Beyoncé (2nd R) performs onstage with Emily Robison, Natalie Maines, and Martie Maguire of Dixie Chicks at the 50th annual CMA Awards in 2016.
Rick Diamond/Getty Images
We saw a similar response to Lil Nas X’s "Old Town Road" in 2019 when the original single was removed from the Billboard Country charts because it didn’t “embrace enough elements of today’s country music.” Lil Nas X went on to win a Grammy with Billy Ray Cyrus for the song’s music video but was only accepted into the category after Cyrus joined for the remix.
Though the origins of the country music genre are an extension of Black culture and African ancestry, Black artists have been essentially erased from the genre's existence. Examples of this are the modern-day banjo – featured in many country songs – which is a descendant of the West African instrument, the Akonting. As with most things in American history, once white audiences were introduced to the banjo in a more “acceptable” manner through racist minstrel shows of the 1850s-1870s, it was quickly appropriated.
This unintentionally led to the creation of the 1920s Hillbilly music, which at the time was mainly popular in the South and later evolved into the country genre we know today. Hillbilly music drew its inspiration from slave spirituals, field songs, hymns, and the blues, which all originated within the Black community, and up until the end of World War I when major record labels rebranded it as country, the genre was successfully integrated.
In fact, in Patrick Huber’s 2013 essay, "Black Hillbillies: African American Musicians On Old-Time Records, 1924–1932," he details the vast diversity in the genre. In the time period chronicled, approximately 50 Black artists were featured on commercialized records within Hillbilly music. Huber’s essay was part of a larger work edited by Diane Pecknold, "Hidden in the Mix: The African American Presence in Country Music," which focused on the large contributions Black musicians had to the industry.
Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images
Despite the huge success Hillbilly music had, record labels couldn’t fully capitalize on it while remaining diverse because of segregation throughout America. In order to market the music and artists to “mainstream” America, music executives not only segregated the genre but promoted it as “white music” and as white southerners migrated throughout the country, they took with them the ideology that country music was solely theirs. This eventually led to the erasure of Black artists and their contributions to their artistry and history.
These artists include DeFord Bailey, who was the first Black musician to play the Grand Ole Opry, and Charley Pride, the first Black person to be inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame. Many of us know musical legend Ray Charles for his contribution to soul music, but it isn’t common knowledge that his ability to blend country, R&B, and pop music greatly influences country music to this day. Additionally, Gus Cannon made jug bands (an ancestor to country music) popular in the 1920s and taught Johnny Cash, who is a country music icon.
As we make efforts to honor and acknowledge the Black musicians who helped mold country music into what it is today, we must also acknowledge how the intersectionality of Black womanhood has practically left this demographic out of the country music fabric completely.
As Black women face both racism and sexism (a.k.a. misogynoir), their denial of entry has been easier to maintain in this genre. Linda Martell, the first Black female solo artist to play the Grand Ole Opry, released her debut album, Color Me Country, in 1970. Though still considered a pioneer to many, her career was short, and she faced relentless discrimination and violence within the industry that eventually led her to leave country music altogether. The documentary, Bad Case of The Country Blues: The Linda Martell Story, chronicles her experiences from 1969-1975.
Though there are many up-and-coming Black country music artists, Beyoncé's entrance into this arena creates a clear and imminent threat to the genre’s marketing strategy that it is “white music.” She might be one of the most unapologetically Black artist of our times, penning lyrics such as, “I like my baby hair with baby hair and afros” and “I like my negro nose with Jackson 5 nostrils.”
Argue with me if you like, but for the past decade, Beyoncé has been uplifting and celebrating Black culture and history.
She has made it clear that she has no desire to assimilate herself or her music into mainstream white culture. She is proud of who she is and where she comes from, which is why her making a country music album is a natural progression. Beyoncé's roots are in Texas, she often talks about her love for her state and her upbringing, and just as we heard in Act I of Renaissancewith the inspirations pulled from Chicago house, funk, soul, gospel, and New Orleans Bounce music; we will be serenaded by another layer of her upbringing and soul in Act II.
Beyoncé’s Renaissance is her unabashed way of not only using her stardom to prove that Black people are not a monolith but also paying homage to the Black artists who paved the way for her but are seemingly erased from history.
She highlights the multifaceted nature of Black culture and ignites conversations that force the full history of these genres to be represented and told. As a Black woman who grew up in Alabama and isn’t ashamed to share her love for country music, I was thrilled to hear "Daddy Lessons" in 2016 and I can’t wait for Act II of Renaissance to come out on March 29.
Whether you’re a member of the BeyHive or not, I hope you can see how Beyoncé’s musical evolution is allowing space for Black people, and moreover, Black women, to exist in whatever space they choose to pursue without feeling the need to diminish, readjust, or mold themselves into what someone else says you should be.
Through her art, she is creating a space for us all to live and exist in our fullness, or in short to live in true liberation.
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'The Color Purple' & The Timeless Impact Of Alice Walker's Masterpiece
As someone who was born in the late 80s, Alice Walker’s The Color Purple (1982) has been a staple in my life for as long as I’ve been alive. I even named my first dog Shug Avery. This Pulitzer Prize-winning novel was the first of its kind, tackling the complex realities Black women in America face within their own homes and communities. The themes in the novel range from church hurt, sexuality, domestic violence, “Black codes,” and most importantly, it showed that Black women have the right to autonomy.
Since being published, Walker’s novel has been turned into a major motion film directed by Steven Spielberg in 1985, a Broadway musical between 2005 to 2008, and has now been reimagined again with a film remake premiering on Christmas Day. The impact of this book has penetrated every aspect of Black culture, and Walker’s words from the pages of this novel are still being used in films, music, and academic articles today.
Fantasia Barrino as Celie in the 2023 adaptation of 'The Color Purple.'
Through the character arcs of Celie, Shug Avery, and Sofia, we see how trauma, rejection, and abuse break these women’s spirits.
Yet, despite being dealt unbelievably difficult circumstances, they all find their way back to themselves and who they want to be. Whether it be through living with an abusive spouse like Celie, reconciling with a parent as Shug, or finding peace with who you are as Sofia, there are few Black women who couldn’t relate to at least one of these main characters or another woman in the novel.
Though this was a fiction novel, the stories shared within it are experiences many Black women faced in their communities during the early Jim Crow era in America. Many of the stories told about harm done to Black people during this time period center on white supremacists harming Black people.
However, Walker shed light on the abuse and mistreatment Black women not only received from white people but from Black men as well.
Oprah Winfrey as Sofia in the 1982 adaptation of 'The Color Purple.'
The moment Sofia’s character confronts Celie about encouraging Harpo to beat her, the words Walker wrote resonated with many Black women then and now. “All my life I had to fight. I had to fight my daddy. I had to fight my brothers. I had to fight my cousins and my uncles. A girl child ain't safe in a family of men. But I never thought I'd have to fight in my own house.”
Though Black women and girls are taught to take ownership of how our actions impact the Black men in our lives that same accountability isn’t always expected in reverse.
This reality was put on full display when the original film premiered in 1985. Despite the vast success the original film received, grossing more than $142 million worldwide and earning 11 Academy Award nominations, many filmmakers, writers, journalists, and academics felt the film was anti-black and racist in its depiction of Black men. The Los Angeles premiere was even protested by The Coalition Against Black Exploitation because of the abusive nature of the men in the film.
Though Walker had mixed reviews on the film herself, the overall backlash of the film is a tangible example of misogynoir and how the erasure of Black women’s lived experiences and contributions to the Black community were and are prevalent in the Black community.
Margaret Avery as Shug Avery in 'The Color Purple (1982).'
We see this in the way Black women are questioned when they bring up partner abuse, we see this when Black women bring up accusations of sexual misconduct against Black men they work with or for, and we even see this when Black women’s cases are mishandled by police and demand for justice isn’t as loudly heard. Black women have been expected to remain silent about the harm being inflicted on them within their own communities for decades.
Walker’s The Color Purple and the corresponding film gave a brief glimpse into the reality many of our ancestors faced in the early 1900s.
Phylicia Pearl Mpasi and Halle Bailey as young Celie and young Nellie in 'The Color Purple (2023).'
The truths shared in this novel are why the story has lasted the test of time and has been re-envisioned in so many ways. Black women want to feel seen and heard but don’t often find they have a space where they’re allowed to do so safely. They also want their stories of heartache and overall triumph to be shared and celebrated with the world.
The excitement of the remake starring; Fantasia Barrino, Danielle Brooks, Taraji P. Henson, and Halle Bailey just to name a few; is proof that Walker’s story still resonates with the Black women and community and will forever be a part of the cultural fabric of who we are in this country.
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This Video Is A Reminder That Safe Spaces & Vulnerability Are Key To Our Collective Healing
Recently, Candice Brathwaite-Aboderin posted an IG reel sharing a vulnerable moment she experienced at the dentist's and how she deeply appreciated the care her doctor provided. As I watched Brathwaite-Aboderin’s tears roll down her face, it brought back an almost identical moment I had at the dentist roughly a year ago. The numbing gel they used didn’t work the way it should have, and the pain of the following injection was truly unbearable.
Though I’m not one who’s normally afraid of the dentist, that moment in my doctor’s chair triggered a flood of emotions from various instances throughout my life when I was in pain but wasn’t allowed to express those feelings. Just as Brathwaite-Aboderin’s dentist, mine wiped my tears and was very comforting at that moment, which further shocked my system because, as a Black woman, that’s not the response I’m used to receiving when I’m in pain.
When I later discussed this moment with my therapist, I explained to her that I didn’t even realize I needed to be comforted in such a way because I’d convinced myself that it wasn’t something I was ever going to receive.
Dr. Joy Harden Bradford, licensed psychologist and founder of Therapy for Black Girls, says, “For so long society has told us that as Black women we have to hold it all together and rarely show emotion that I think it has left many of us out of touch with our feelings which is why we can be so taken aback when we experience genuine acts of kindness and care.”
Brathwaite-Aboderin shared a similar sentiment in her caption, “We are so accustomed to watching Black women in defense mode or having to challenge and fight for themselves that when we see raw emotion from them, it often highlights the lack of humanity we decide to give them.”
“We are so accustomed to watching Black women in defense mode or having to challenge and fight for themselves that when we see raw emotion from them, it often highlights the lack of humanity we decide to give them.”
I speak to the lack of humanity Black women are allotted by society through conversations centered around misogynoir and the variety of ways it manifests in our lives, whether that be through domestic violence, the way Black women are vilified for being their authentic selves, or how our vulnerability is an act of resistance against the systemic racism, and sexism Black women face daily.
Yet, a piece of this conversational puzzle that is often missing is how do we, as Black women, find and maintain spaces of safety in a world that often expects us to be superheroes?
Rhonda Richards-Smith, a Los Angeles-based psychotherapist and wellness expert, says “The more Black women engage in therapy and community healing spaces, the more comfortable we become with sharing our vulnerabilities, fears and needs with those we are closest to.” Richards-Smith continues, “As we embrace our humanity, we gain a greater understanding that we are more than deserving of having our wants, needs, and desires met.”
Black women are collectively beginning to metaphorically take off our capes and share the reality that we’re not always okay. In a recent clip shared from Selling Sunset, Amanza Smith and Chelsea Lazkani share a vulnerable moment on how Black women are taught to hide their pain and suffer in silence. Smith shared that “she didn’t want to have to do that anymore,” and how she wants to share the moments she’s struggled in the past with others so they can see they’re not alone and that there is space for their healing.
Bradford says, “It’s important for us to be vulnerable…it frees us and allows us to connect more deeply with our feelings, but it also creates a space for those around us to share more authentically.” Richards-Smith echos this sentiment, “Many Black women suffer in silence, which unfortunately furthers the Superwoman Syndrome phenomenon. By sharing our personal stories of healing and vulnerability with our communities in safe spaces, we give others courage to do the same.”
"By sharing our personal stories of healing and vulnerability with our communities in safe spaces, we give others courage to do the same."
As Black women continue to be honest about the impact daily microaggressions have on us, whether it’s Beyoncé sharing in her latest documentary Renaissance, “I feel like, being a Black woman, the way people communicate with me is different ... Everything is a fight. It’s almost like a battle against your will,” or Megan Thee Stallion producing songs like "Cobra" discussing her battles with mental health, Black women on a micro and macro level are beginning to create spaces for each other to fully exist in our humanity unapologetically.
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Crown Too Heavy: The Pressure Of Being Dubbed 'The Next Beyoncé'
"I don't have to prove anything to anyone. I only have to follow my heart and concentrate on what I want to say to the world. I run my world." – Beyoncé
As someone who has followed the arc of Beyoncé’s career since I was 10 years old and saw the excitement my brother and his best friend expressed in seeing Destiny’s Child perform at Alabama A&M in 1998, I’ve always known in my heart Beyoncé was destined for greatness. We’ve all watched her evolve as an artist, woman, wife, and mother, but we often forget the major steps she had to take in order to gain control of her career and life.
Beginning in 2010, Beyoncé launched Parkwood Entertainment, a film and production company, record label, and management firm. Then, in 2011, she decided to end her management arrangement with her father Mathew Knowles. She’s limited the number of interviews she does and has taken full control of her life’s narrative and her art through the various documentaries she's released via Parkwood.
As we all watch in awe, Beyoncé continues to break records: the most awarded singer in Grammy history, headlining one of the highest-grossing tours of all-time, and most recent Renaissance: A Film by Beyoncé, the film documenting her latest world tour, became the first film in 20 years to cross the $20 million mark on its opening weekend following Thanksgiving.
#RENAISSANCETHEFILM debuts at the domestic box office with a $21M opening weekend and a 100% on @RottenTomatoes. pic.twitter.com/NyG8MdyrU2
— BEYONCÉ LEGION (@BeyLegion) December 3, 2023
As Beyoncé raises the bar higher and higher, there is much conversation centered around who “the next Beyoncé” will be. Some have proclaimed it’s Victoria Monét, others believe it will be Normani, and many have stated Chloe Bailey is next in line to take the crown.
These conversations of “who’s the next….” aren’t new; even when Beyoncé first launched her solo career in 2003 with the album Dangerously in Love, people said she was the next Michael Jackson or Tina Turner.
Victoria Monet is giving next big thing after Beyoncé. I see it. I said it.
— The Purse Dealer ✨💕 (@hausofsyy) December 3, 2023
This mindset begs the question: do we value individuality in artistry, or do we simply want to recreate clones of the artist we already love? How can we expect artists to keep the integrity of their work when labels, managers, and the public want to pigeonhole them into a space they deem appropriate?
When we center our expectations to juxtapose someone else’s success, we are inevitably setting up and coming artists like Victoria, Normani, and Chloe to fail. This by no means is taking away from the clear talent each of these singers has, but it’s boxing them into a space where their opportunity for personal and creative growth is stifled.
Let’s be real she the only new girl that *really* gives Beyoncé pic.twitter.com/ZwlF8znrsE
— B•R•I 💜🎄 (@chloverview) December 12, 2023
Additionally, when we take a further step back and look at the music industry from a bird’s eye view, we see how Black artists have been confined to the musical genres of R&B, gospel, and hip-hop, which further limits their space for growth and crossover success.
The systemic racism in the music industry caters more toward white artists and limits the exposure of Black artists, especially in predominantly white genres. We consistently see white artists given the space and opportunity to explore a variety of musical genres, while Black artists are expected to stay true to one genre for the entirety of their career.
It’s been five years can we get a vowel?
— Hi Im Ry (@WhateverDoja) May 30, 2023
This generation tends to want artists to produce quality music at a rapid pace, but then mercilessly judges when it isn’t what we want or expect it to be. An example of this would be both Chloe and Normani’s debut as solo artists.
As I mentioned both these artists have been deemed “the next Beyoncé” at one point or another in their career, and the parallels are obvious. They were both in groups prior, Chloe with her sister Halle and Normani with Fifth Harmony. They’re both talented performers and beautiful young women, and they both very evidently have the “It factor.”
Chloe’s first album, In Pieces, was released in March 2023 and had only sold 10,000 copies as of April 10, 2023. Many fans called the album "a flop" and even DJ Envy suggested it was Beyoncé's fault for the low sales as Chloe is an artist on her label. Beyoncé once said, “The reality is, sometimes you lose. And you're never too good to lose. You're never too big to lose. You're never too smart to lose. It happens."
Chloe must have taken these words to heart because despite the negative feedback she received, she took everything in stride and proved critics and fans wrong by selling out shows in the following months.
The music industry is gonna have to create a new way of counting album sales and streams. Like @ChloeBailey’s album was chefs kiss but because her “sales” were low people consider it a flop. However if her streams were counted. I’m sure it’ll be very different.
— Madam Chrome❄️✨ (@DaisysSentamint) April 30, 2023
Something to understand and consider is that artists like Chloe have a younger fan base who are less likely to buy albums and more likely to listen to their favorite artist’s music on a streaming service, which does impact sales. Though streaming numbers are included in album sales, it doesn’t consider the à la carte nature of the process and how hard it is to reach one album sold. Success for artists likely Chloe is going to look very different than her mentor Beyoncé, and as the music industry evolves these young artists are having to adapt to that evolution in real time.
in pieces was about letting go & trusting myself. i’ve enjoyed every moment of it and i love everyone who listened to it. tour starts tomorrow in chicago and im so ready to perform these songs for yall ❤️🔥
— Chlöe (@ChloeBailey) April 10, 2023
Normani on the other hand has taken her time with the release of her debut album, which many fans have been waiting on since the release of her single “Motivation” in 2019. Some fans have even gone to Twitter to share their thoughts about the delayed album, with opinions echoing the sentiment that she’s lost her passion and motivation to create music. Normani responded to these claims with a very clear, “Just shut the f— up.” She also shared in an interview with Bustle, that had she rushed to release an album in 2019, “I would’ve put out a body of work that I wasn’t confident in.”
Despite the negativity these two artists have had to endure in the shadows of Beyoncé, they’ve both taken a page from her book by staying true to themselves and the music they want to produce. Upon the release of her album, Chloe tweeted, “In pieces was about letting go & trusting myself. i’ve enjoyed every moment of it and i love everyone who listened to it.” Normani also shared, “I’m very, very prideful of what I do and the art. It means a lot to me and I’m heavily involved in literally every single aspect.”
just shut the fuck up https://t.co/puMktqrUNR
— Normani (@Normani) August 9, 2022
Though the vast majority of us love and sit in awe of Beyoncé, we must also question why we feel the need to place other Black women artists in her shadow to recreate a career that she’s uniquely shaped for herself.
There is a subconscious bias many of us have fed into that tells us, Black women in music can only be seen and digested in a certain way, and because of this, we project that onto newer artists such as Victoria, Normani, Chloe, and others.
Even Beyoncé, though she always pays homage to her predecessors such as Jackson and Turner, has been very clear on the reality that she’s not trying to be anyone other than herself in her music or life. Her success has been based on the fact that she does things her way, and because of this, it uniquely penetrates millions of people’s hearts around the globe.
It also goes back to the reality that she’s taken full control of her career and holds her destiny in her own hands. This same autonomy should be given to the young women who follow in her footsteps.
"Do what you were born to do. You just have to trust yourself." – Beyoncé
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Jada Pinkett Smith & Why Authenticity In Black Women Sparks Controversy
Will Smith and Jada Pinkett Smith went to social media to share their Thanksgiving holiday with followers. The pair were surrounded by family and friends Thursday, and both posted how grateful they were to be with the ones they loved. Yet this comes on the heels of Pinkett Smith’s whirlwind of negative opinions and critics forecasting her book would be a flop.
Despite the negative feedback she received, Worthy, Pinkett Smith’s memoir, still debuted at #3 on the New York Times’ Best Seller list on October 25. The greatest backlash she received was centered around her relationship with Smith and the fact that the two had been living separate lives since 2016.
The commentary about their marriage overshadowed the reality that this book is ultimately about her journey to self-worth and the path she’s had to take in order to get there.
Social media comments about her book tour ranged from, “Me counting all the times Jada woke up and chose to embarrass Will Smith,” to podcasts like The Joe Budden Podcast saying, “Take me out the group chat,” which was a sentiment shared by many celebrities and fans alike. Yet, a point made by comedian KevOnStage proved that even though people say they don’t want to know about the Smiths, they’re secretly interested and want to know more.
Since the Smiths were wed in 1997, people have been fascinated with their marriage, and rumors about their marital arrangement have always been a topic of conversation. People continue to speculate that the pair is gay and swingers, and even new allegations have come out that Smith and Duane Martin shared an intimate relationship at one point.
However, despite their consistent united front throughout their marriage in recent years, Pinkett Smith has borne the brunt of backlash in the couple’s relationship, from her entanglement with August Alsina to Smith slapping Chris Rock at the 2022 Academy Awards to the recent truths she’s shared about the couple’s marriage in her memoir.
Individuals are consistently running to the internet to support Smith and villainize Pinkett Smith, from podcast guests saying things such as “She doesn’t like Will, she likes the lifestyle” to deeming her “mean” or "manipulative" because of her facial expressions and demeanor.
Likewise, when you have hosts of daytime talk shows such as Ana Navarro saying, “I think she’s having a relationship with her bank account,” insinuating Pinkett Smith only shared stories about Smith to increase her book sales, it begs the question of where was this same energy when Smith released his memoir?
In Will, Smith discusses both of his marriages and how, in relationships, because of his upbringing, he needed constant validation and praise from his partners to feel secure. He also shared the reality that Pinkett Smith never wanted to be married, just as she never wanted the huge estate they share in California, but he wanted to give it to her despite her feelings about it.
Smith admitted to creating this family empire that only further boosted his ego and what he wanted his legacy to be instead of actually asking his family what they wanted or needed. People praised him for his vulnerability and said his book was an inspiration.
So how is it that one book about a person’s family, upbringing, and journey to self is praised, and another is villainized? The glaring thought that comes to me is, does likability often trump accountability?
People love Smith and his “good guy” persona; he’s always been an attractive, charismatic man that people can relate to, so even when he speaks about the way he mismanaged his marriage and family, it’s seen as growth. On the contrary, because Pinkett Smith doesn’t constantly fawn over him and shares how miserable she was in their marriage, she’s the villain.
People still blame her for not stopping Smith from smacking Rock at the Oscars and share their sentiments about how she embarrassed Smith with her entanglement with Alsina. Though this is a celebrity couple we’ve all followed for years, the question must be asked, how much accountability must Black women be subjected to in relationship to their partners' actions?
Why is it that the media is more interested in the marriage between Smith and Pinkett Smith than her childhood, or the fact her memoir consists of writing prompts, meditations, and methods for other women to find their sense of worth?
Could it be that the larger society doesn’t value Black women having the tools to find their own sense of worth? Or is it that Black women are expected to accept whatever is given to them regardless of how they feel or what they want?
The exclusive interview with Eboni K. Williams (@ebonikwilliams) and Dr. Iyanla Vanzant about if she would date a bus driver seems to have a lot of people talking. You can watch her response tonight on #theGrio. Catch the full interview, here: https://t.co/ctxE0zKFWj pic.twitter.com/BhIO52T2fg
— theGrio.com (@theGrio) May 2, 2023
When Eboni K. Williams shared that she wasn’t interested in dating a bus driver, the internet blew up with individuals saying that Black women need to be less selective with their dating prospects. The commentary around this conversation shed much light on the reality that this demographic is expected and invited to settle in love if they actually want a life partner.
Black women aren’t often given the space to find their joy, fulfillment, or even self-worth because of the responsibility they’re forced to acquire in order to support their families and communities. Yet, “high value” Black men speak vehemently about Black women’s masculinity and inability to submit. We’re often inundated with podcast guests sharing that they’re not impressed by our success and are uninterested in our aspirations.
Black women, from a young age, are taught to place their community first and cater to the men around them regardless of what they do or how they behave.
We see this when young girls are told to put on pants when male relatives come around, we experience it when domestic violence survivors are encouraged not to press charges against their perpetrators, and we even see it when Black women face backlash for dating outside of their race.
The way Pinkett Smith has been treated since sharing the truth about her life and journey of discovering her self-worth is another example of how the world isn’t receptive to Black women being their most authentic selves.
It’s another example we can hold up to illustrate how Black women are expected to be magical but not human.
Even with this article, I’m sure there will be many who want to argue why Pinkett Smith was wrong in her narrative, but at the end of the day, it was her story to tell, and no one has more authority to share her lived experience than her.
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