Colonial roots haunt hair policies: a global crisis?
A Jamaican school’s recent scrutiny of a student’s afro has ignited a global conversation about the insidious persistence of colonial-era grooming standards. What began as a localized dispute is now exposing a deeply entrenched pattern of hair discrimination, reaching from classrooms in Ghana to workplaces in the UK—a stark reminder of how the vestiges of colonialism continue to shape societal norms and impact Black individuals.
The ardenne high incident: a symptom of a larger problem
The incident at Ardenne High School in Kingston, Jamaica, where a fifth-form student was reportedly removed from class over his afro hairstyle, is just the latest in a string of similar cases across the African diaspora. While the school denies removing the student, the very fact that his hairstyle was deemed an “alleged infraction” underscores the problematic application of grooming guidelines rooted in colonial ideals of “neatness” and “respectability.”
This isn’p merely a Jamaican issue. Across the continent, schools in Ghana, Nigeria, and Uganda enforce policies requiring girls to cut their natural hair, a practice echoing the colonial-era imposition of European standards of appearance. Even in nations that achieved independence decades ago, these attitudes remain stubbornly embedded in institutional policies.
The Historical Context: Stripping Away Identity
The roots of this discrimination are disturbingly clear. During the transatlantic slave trade, the forced shaving of enslaved Africans’ heads was a deliberate act of dehumanization, severing them from their cultural identities and signaling their status as property. Olivette Otele, a historian of slavery and memory at the University of Bristol, powerfully notes that removing hair was “one of many psychological tools used to show the enslaved that their cultural practices did not matter.”
The colonial period further solidified these discriminatory practices by imposing grooming rules that discouraged or outright banned traditional African hairstyles. Colonial officials often described afro hair in derisive terms, framing it as “unprofessional” or “uncivilized,” a tactic designed to reinforce the notion that European aesthetics represented order and superiority.
Verene Shepherd, a social history expert at the University of the West Indies, argues that these attitudes continue to disproportionately impact Black students today, manifesting in policies that penalize hairstyles outside narrow definitions of acceptability. “We’ve heard comments from children in schools that locs, twists, and other styles are not accommodated,” she observes, highlighting the subtle, yet pervasive, influence of a painful history.
The fight against hair discrimination has gained momentum globally. France recently passed legislation aimed at tackling discrimination based on hairstyle, while California led the way in 2019 with the CROWN Act, recognizing hairstyle discrimination as a form of racial discrimination. Even in the UK, progress is being made, with the Halo Code offering a framework for schools to prevent hair-related discrimination.
But Michelle De Leon, founder of World Afro Day, cautions that the global picture remains “very mixed.” Legal battles persist in both the UK and the US, underscoring the ongoing struggle for equitable treatment. In Trinidad and Tobago, the recent introduction of a national school hair code allowing for locs, Afros, twists, and cornrows represents a positive step, but the fight is far from over.
Melissa Gumbs, Sint Maarten’s Minister of Education, recently called for legislation to prevent grooming policies from discriminating against students based on natural hair texture or culturally significant hairstyles. “While societies have evolved,” she asserted, “the lingering perception that natural afro-textured hair must be controlled, altered, or hidden to be considered ‘acceptable’ still echoes within some institutional policies today.”
The legacy of enslavement and colonialism casts a long shadow, subtly shaping attitudes and reinforcing discriminatory practices. It’s a history that demands acknowledgement, a conversation that requires honest self-reflection, and a relentless pursuit of policies that champion inclusivity and respect for cultural identity. The question isn’t whether these colonial echoes exist—they do—but whether we possess the courage and commitment to finally silence them.