December 2024 | The Essence of the Muse by The Blackprint

the essence the essence of the muse of the muse

Self Care and Stigma: Why We Wear Bonnets

The Concrete Runway and the Evolution of Fashion in the NBA

A Generational Curse: The Damage of Black Women’s Natural Hair

Marley Joseph Gabrielle Tyndall Brianna Barrett

Table of Contents Table of Contents

Editor in Chief Letters Editor in Chief Letters

Campus & District Campus & District

Acknowledgements Acknowledgements

Dear Reader, Dear Reader,

Joining The Blackprint in the fall of 2022 as a member of the then-newly established multimedia section was a transformative experience for me. I hoped to explore my newfound interest in media communications, and in doing so, I contributed to launching a new series that enriched our social media presence and fostered an ever-growing community marked by shared experiences and a familial spirit. Witnessing this expansion gave me the courage to step out of my comfort zone and develop my personal social media presence, a journey that revealed the potential I knew was inside me. Without my time on The Blackprint team, I wouldn’t have discovered my voice in such a powerful way. Fast forward to the fall of 2023 when I stepped into the role of lead multimedia editor, allowing my passion for guidance and mentorship to flourish. Leading a close-knit team of three, we created content that embodied the heart of The Blackprint. As Co-Editor-in-Chief, I reflect on this journey with deep gratitude to God for guiding me through seasons of growth and self-discovery, shaping me as a student, leader and Black woman at a PWI.

This semester’s theme Black hair and beauty carries immense cultural and historical importance as symbols of pride and resilience. Growing up in a society where our skin color, features and gender are often undervalued can dim our light, especially as young adults. We live in a world where we are not the preference, yet our beauty and creativity set the standard for society. Reflecting on my journey, I remember writing my college essay on how my hair shaped my identity. That perspective laid a foundation for building resilience, confidence, and self-love. God planted a seed to guide me toward this moment, where I strive to inspire young adults facing similar challenges. As a leader in The Blackprint, I am committed to empowering others to boldly use their voices and express themselves without reservation.

I want to extend my deepest gratitude to our incredible contributors editors, graphic designers, photographers, writers and especially my fellow Co-Editor-in-Chief, Brandon Smith. Your unwavering commitment, creativity, and energy brought this vision to life. Your dedication and talents are truly appreciated and do not go unnoticed.

To our readers, I hope this issue leaves you feeling seen, empowered and loved. May it remind you that you are not alone as you navigate life as a Black individual. Embrace your natural beauty, try that new style, and take pride in your heritage. Above all I hope this magazine resonates with you, encouraging you to celebrate your unique beauty and find strength in the rich legacy that has always embraced its brilliance, even in the face of adversity.

Warmly, Co-Editor-in-Chief

What a journey this semester has been! When I joined The BlackPrint back in the fall of 2021, I never imagined I would one day be at the helm of such a storied, accomplished organization. I first joined The BlackPrint as a sophomore looking for something to fill my free time and bolster my journalism portfolio However, my role in the organization quickly grew into so much more Throughout high school, the one identity I felt I could always go back to was my identity as a student-athlete but unfortunately, injuries made it so that I could not bring that part of my upbringing with me to AU Starting out as a staff writer for the sports section and then eventually becoming its lead editor was a major outlet for me, allowing me to vicariously live out my aspirations of being a collegiate athlete and express my love for athletics through covering sports Gradually, that passion for sports began to grow into a passion for journalism. I began delving into other topics, writing breaking news articles, covering guest speakers, vigils and campus events. I fell in love with covering and informing our communities, and I felt a sense of duty to provide my people with a platform to express their failures, triumphs, grievances and pride.

Now, through this magazine, I get to do exactly that. Our hair and beauty are the physical manifestations of centuries of pride and perseverance From the styles we wear and the history behind them to the Black men and women who make a living from elevating our collective beauty, our aesthetics are an integral part of our culture that deserve to not only be highlighted, but celebrated.

I think that it is extremely fitting that this semester’s zine theme be hair and beauty, not only because of its cultural significance, but also because of my personal experience. I feel as though I have grown along with my hair as I have been here at AU. I came to campus with my hair cut short and no idea how to take care of it but I have learned how to tend to my garden and watch my crown grow as I have learned how to tend to myself. I have learned how to experiment, break out of my comfort zone and try new things. I have learned that my hair, much like myself, needs to be given the right nourishment to grow and thrive.

That being said, the most important lesson I’ve taken away from my hair journey is that we, like our crowns, are constantly growing, and that we should all give ourselves a little grace

To all of the exceedingly talented editors, graphic designers, photographers and writers who worked tirelessly to make this magazine as perfect as could be, a huge thank you. Watching you all pour your hearts and souls into this magazine inspired me to put my full energy into bringing this project to fruition, and I couldn’t be happier with how it turned out. This magazine is the culmination of countless late night meetings and writing sessions, and I hope that you, the reader feel that effort shine through in this final product. I hope it encourages you to wear your natural crown in spaces where it might not be fully appreciated I hope it inspires you to experiment with a new style you’ve been going back and forth on trying. And, most of all, I hope it makes you feel beautiful in the way that we are all beautiful, because we are just the latest in a long lineage that has always found ways to embrace its beauty, during the good times and the bad

With Love, Co Editor-in-Chief

The goal of this zine is to shine a light on the importance of Black beauty not only as a commercial industry but as a form of self-expression. The way we as a race wear our hair, style our nails, and embrace our style have and continue to act as forms of rebellion and expression.

Our ancestors used our inherent beauty to help lift themselves out of oppression, and today, we continue to wear our crowns in defiance in public, in professional spaces, and in formal settings despite Eurocentric beauty standards. We want to give flowers to those who are elevating, redefining, and expressing their beauty. Our people have set the trends and standards of an entire industry, and this zine acts as an homage to those who came before and those who continue to push the envelope in embracing our beauty.

CULTURE CULTURE CULTURE

Examining Links Between Examining Links Between Chemical Hair Straighteners and Chemical Hair Straighteners and

Reproductive Health in Black Women

Black hair care has been an integral part of Black culture. It is used to find resilience, pride, and community. Madame C.J. Walker was a pioneer of Black hair care and exposed how valuable the market was. Nowadays, there are hundreds of Black hair care brands, but the number of lines owned by Black owners continues to dwindle. This transfer of Black hair care from Black owners to white megacompanies such as P&G has spurred discourse surrounding a change in the quality of products. This change is not just responsible for split ends and hair damage, but is also increasing the likelihood of reproductive health disorders such as uterine cancer.

Research on the link

Hair products marketed to Black women, particularly relaxers and straighteners, often contain higher concentrations of endocrine-disrupting chemicals (EDCs) and other potentially harmful substances, including:

Legal action

Soon after the results of the Sister Study were published, the first lawsuit was filed in the U.S. District Court in Chicago (Mitchell v. L’Oreal, et al. – 1:22-cv-5815). The lawsuit alleges that the plaintiff’s early use of chemical hair straighteners and abnormal development of uterine cancer were linked based on the results of the study. The basis of this lawsuit alleges that L’Oreal, the manufacturer, had a responsibility to warn users of the products’ use of endocrine-disrupting chemicals. If consumers were aware, they may think twice about purchasing or take greater precautions to screen for cancers. Since the initial lawsuit, there have been 3,000 additional lawsuits across the U.S. seeking justice for all who may have been impacted.

Moving forward

The National Institute of Health conducted a study in 2022 with 33,497 U.S. women ages 35-74 participating in the Sister Study. The Sister Study began in 2003 with a mission to understand the epidemiological characteristics of breast cancer through sisters of breast cancer patients. The study has now evolved to understand the epidemiological characteristics of other cancers, including uterine. In 2022, the study found that women who frequently used chemical hair straighteners were more than twice as likely to develop uterine cancer compared to those who did not use the product. Over a period of 11 years, 378 women within the study were diagnosed with uterine cancer.

Uterine cancer mortality rates are disproportionately high among non-white groups with Black women facing the highest mortality rate. On average, 9 out of every 100,000 Black women die from uterine cancer, compared to 4 per 100,000 among other racial and ethnic groups. This disparity in both the incidence and outcomes of uterine cancer underscores how Black women are often let down by both manufacturers creating products marketed specifically to them and by medical systems sworn to protect them.

A common response to this issue is just to tell Black people to stop using these products. A trend in most of the products with dangerous toxins is that they are projects seen as promoting assimilation to the Eurocentric beauty standard, including skin lighteners. But what we must begin to question are the social systems in place that push individuals to want or feel the need to assimilate to Eurocentric beauty standards in the first place. The marketing behind these products does not reflect the messages of resilience, pride and community. Instead, many that are also non-Black owned push messages of insecurity and disconnection. Many women who have come forward with their health outcomes after chemical hair straighteners say that they started using products at an early age, before they could understand what it did or its damage. Using straighteners was just something they did, something their mothers and grandmothers did as well. Rather than jumping straight to judgment or criticism, we must begin to think about why chemical straighteners are marketed the way that they are toward Black women, and most importantly, why has there been such a drastic difference in the quality of products offered to Black women versus white women.

We Need More Black We Need More Black Rom-Com Movies: Rom-Com Movies:

The Beauty of Black

Beauty of Black Love

Love The

First, there is a catalyst or cause for one of the leads to meet the other: a bad breakup, a love that becomes unrequited after years, or sleeping with a random person who ends up being “the one.” Then, the first lead realizes they have feelings for the second lead and shove it away because usually, the second lead doesn’t have feelings for them or hasn’t realized them yet. The second lead will then figure out their own feelings and also keep it to themselves because they are clueless of the first lead’s feelings. This leads to endless misunderstandings and overall miscommunication between the leads until one of them finally snaps and confesses their love.

These days, lighthearted Black romantic comedies are missing from theaters. By Black rom-coms, I don’t mean one Black person paired with a non-Black person; I mean two Black people in love. Preferably, a movie with two Black people in love that is not centered on their struggle. Non-Black folks have a number of lighthearted rom-coms that don’t involve struggle and involve two people falling helplessly in love with little drama throughout. Of course, movies with Black struggle and love are important and realistic, as Black people have and will continue to have their share of struggle throughout their lives. But movies are meant to be an escape for most, and seeing my struggles reflected in a movie can sometimes be hard to bear. To me, a rom-com with fun, love, laughter, and passion is all I need.

Non-Black people get rom-coms with leads that look like them; don’t we deserve the same? As a romcom fan, most of my favorites have non-Black leads, where they fall in love with some obstacles along the way, but in the end they live happily ever after. No oppression, no racism, just the typical love life drama or past problems coming back to haunt them. This is what I call a light-hearted rom-com that everyone can enjoy (and I know I always do).

One recent Black rom-com that I loved is “Rye Lane,” which centers around a single crazy day where the leads meet, do a bunch of things together and fall in love while doing them. While these two did struggle throughout the movie, it was a lot of fun to watch and laugh and cry to; the perfect rom-com and it is still a favorite of mine today. The two leads were suffering from bad breakups and helped each other find closure throughout the movie. This is a typical rom-com cliché and I was happy to see it because Black people suffer from typical things like breakups too, not just things that are a direct result of oppression, discrimination and so on. This is why I think we need to make more Black rom-coms where the leads are Black but that doesn’t restrict them from experiencing the rom-com clichés.

However, I will say that the Black struggle is an important part of the Black experience that should be shown in Black rom-coms. To be Black is to be born with struggle. We were all born into a society of systemic oppression; no matter how successful we are, no matter how many privileges we have, we will face obstacles in our lives because of the color of our skin. So, I do believe that Black rom-coms should include problems we face as Black people, but I don’t want these problems to be the center of the movie.

When it comes to rom-coms, I think there is a formula that has been used for years that will always leave me satisfied. It may be repetitive, but it works, so it’s used so often for a reason.

We get some more lovey-dovey scenes of the two until the dreaded “third act breakup.” The third act breakup is when we have a third or less of the movie left and the leads face some kind of problem (usually caused by miscommunication) that makes them break up. This is one of my least favorite parts of a rom-com and this is something that is seen in some Black rom-coms. Personally, this shouldn’t be in any kind of rom-com because it is just so unnecessary and annoying and everytime I see it I wish for a regular happily ever after. But, the fact that I’ve seen this in some Black rom-coms shows that they can also follow the typical rom-com formula even with the Black experience included. This is the most present in the Black rom-coms of the 2000s, which I think was the golden era of Black rom-coms that has not yet been replicated.

It was the best era for Black rom-coms and the only era where we got that rom-com formula in each movie. In the rom-com world in general, the 2000s was the best decade for rom-coms. Granted, not all of them were of the best quality but they were cute and fun with the perfect formula for me to enjoy every single one I’ve seen. And this can be said about the Black rom-coms of that era as well. The romcom formula doesn’t always make for the best movie, but Black rom-coms of this time did it so well. This was because the Black experience was blended in so well that it was so authentically Black and authentically romantic and comedic.

Black rom-coms today are rare and Hollywood has forgotten to include Black love in their representation of Black people. However, movies like “Rye Lane” make me believe that a comeback could be possible if Hollywood could remember the importance of Black love. Black representation doesn’t just mean sprinkling Black people in a movie or only making movies about Black oppression. It means to represent all sides of Black people and all kinds of us. Black rom-coms did that in the past, so why can’t it happen again?

The Role Misogynoir plays in The Role Misogynoir plays in

Black Women’s lack of personal Black Women’s lack of personal autonomy over their hair autonomy over their hair

It is a widely known fact that hair holds a lot of importance to the Black community, particularly for Black women. Whether it’s bantu knots afros in their natural state or colorful lace front wigs, the way Black women style their hair is a reflection of their personalities, an ode to their heritage, or simply as a tool for creative expression.

However, historically and currently, Black women have been continuously denied the right to autonomy over their hair Misogynoir, which is a term to describe the unique combination of racist and sexist discrimination Black women face, has robbed Black women of the opportunity to style their hair however they please without societal and institutional judgment. The policing of Black hair is not new and has roots starting from the 18th century till now.

Slavery Era - The Tignon Law

During the French colonial era, both enslaved and freed Black women decorated their hair with hair accessories such as beads, feathers, gems and other fancy jewelry to elevate their textured hairstyles. Unfortunately this expression was seen as a threat by white women during this era and they urged the Spanish governor of Louisiana at the time Esteban Rodriquez Miro, to regulate and prohibit this form of hair expression.

The Tignon Law – passed in 1786 came about as a result of the jealously white women held for Black women, which forced Black women to cover up their hair with a tignon (French for “cloth” or “handkerchief”) headscarf. This law not only served to deny Black women the opportunity to express their beauty through hair but also was passed to set freed Black women in French colonial society in their “rightful” place.

Regardless of a Black women’s status in society free or enslaved they were viewed as inferior to white women and laws such as the Tignon Law placed a crucial role in further lowering the status of Black women in the society throughout the 18th century and beyond.

Modern Manifestation of Misogynoir - Hair Discrimination in the Workplace

While Black women are no longer forced to wear head wraps to cover their hair, the relationship between misogyny and Black women’s autonomy over their hair has shown up in unique ways in modern society Black hair continues to be criminalized, especially in the workplace; according to a 2023

CROWN Workplace Research Study, “one-fifth of the 2,990 Black women surveyed between the ages of 25 and 34 had been sent home from work because of their hair.”

Furthermore, more than half of the Black women surveyed for this study reported feeling the need to straighten or relax their hair in order to succeed in job interviews

Black women who feel comfortable wearing their hair in its natural state are forced to conform to Eurocentric hair beauty standards and risk damaging their natural hair due to fear of being discriminated against.

Public Scrutiny from the Black Community, Social Media

Due to centuries of being forced to conform to Eurocentric beauty standards, many Black women have opted to wearing weaves and wigs as a way to protect their natural hair from chemicals present in relaxers and to avoid public discrimination.

Unfortunately, Black women have been shamed for choosing to wear wigs and weaves from Black men and other Black women alike, in person as well as in social media and online communities There is a common notion that Black women who cover their natural hair with wigs are ashamed of their natural hair and display anti-Blackness in the form of selfhatred of their hair. Adding on to this myth, Black women who wear wigs are seen as white-washed, a term used to describe Black people who are not in tune with their culture who participate in things deemed exclusively for white people.

On the contrary, Black women who decide to show off their natural hair are demonized as well. For those who want to let their hair “do its thing” and not add any gel, curling creams or other enhancements to make their natural hair more “presentable,” they are faced with comments from people who believe their hair in its natural state is unkept and “nappy.”

As someone who has sort of a complicated relationship with my natural hair, I have gotten negative comments about my natural hair from people within my community. “When are you gonna get your hair done?” and “Is that how you’re gonna wear your hair out in public?” were a few of the many statements I received from family members, strangers, and even friends who fail to understand the impact these words may have on how I view the hair that grows out of my head

It seems as if no matter how Black women choose to style their hair, they will face some sort of backlash discouraging their choices. Misogynoir comes into play surrounding the conversation of hair autonomy because of the expectations on how Black women should style their hair in connection with the male gaze If you have scrolled through Instagram Tiktok, or even X (formerly known as Twitter), you have probably seen discourse that Black women who wear their natural hair are more “real” and “authentic” than those who wear fake or synthetic wigs; this discourse is almost always initiated by Black men, who believe the more natural a person is, the better they will be as a girlfriend and a wife However, even their view on natural hair is warped by Eurocentric beauty standards, as these statements and discourse mainly pertain to Black women with type 3c curls or looser

Not giving Black women their right to autonomy over their hair contributes to the self-esteem and mental health issues many of them, like myself, experience when we cannot choose what to do with our hair without judgment. Hair is something that should be embraced and worn however the individual pleases, and when we grant Black women autonomy over their hair we allow them to show up in this world as their true, authentic selves.

A Generational Curse: A Generational Curse:

The Damage of Black Women’s Natural Hair The Damage of Black Women’s Natural Hair

There’s no more important bonding than a mother doing the daughter’s hair. We sit at our mother’s knee and learn who we are.”

T’Keyah Crystal Keymah

Ingrained in my mind are the moments in which I would sit on the floor and get my scalp greased with pressing oil and my ears burned by the hot comb before school or Sunday service. It wasn’t my calling to be a silk-press baddie (probably because of how much it scared me to hear the sizzling of the grease and to smell the burnt hair).

When I was younger, I couldn’t understand how my mother and grandmother could routinely wake up and follow such a damaging regimen (don’t get me wrong... it looked good; they never failed to get that hair bouncin’ and behavin’!). They could perform such a practice because to them, it wasn’t something that harmed their hair but more of something that needed to be done to look presentable, groomed and ready

In my mother’s and grandmother’s generation, Eurocentric features such as straight and long hair was seen as the beauty standard especially in American society which was almost unattainable for Black women The natural follicle structure for most Black women coils and is of a kinky texture, not straight For the Black female community to obtain the preferred standard, hair damaging practices needed to be performed. These practices include using excessive amounts of heat or applying chemical relaxers.

These damaging hair care practices have been passed down for generations among the Black female community, despite the adverse effects to their hair health Hair straightening regimens override the loving and laborious efforts of natural hair care and almost always result in damage that can’t be rectified.

Eurocentric beauty standards have damaged the self-perception and self-esteem of Black women throughout modern history. Since Eurocentric features were perceived as the most common and most desirable, those who didn't match such descriptions historically lacked a positive portrayal. Hairstyles that embraced the naturally kinky and nappy texture were most devalued in Black families due to perceptions that arose in the mid 1800s the height of slavery. As a result of oppressive media and a lack of representation, many Black women grew up not feeling comfortable and confident in their ethnic features, especially their hair.

Many studies have proved that Black women are more likely to feel judged by their hair and as a result they often feel as though they must work harder than other races to maintain a hairstyle that makes them feel confident. This negative self-perception has heavily influenced the decisions of Black women regarding their preferred hair maintenance practices. Therefore, the use of wigs, chemical relaxers and heat have been very popular among Black women in recent memory

Black women’s lowered self-esteem and self-perception didn’t come from just unrealistic beauty standards. We need to keep in mind just how damaging and frequent the objectification and depersonalization of Black hair was during the height of slavery Countless brutalities have been made against Black female hair that have generational psychological effects that should be talked about more. For example, according to Quartz writer Hlonipha Mokoena, “in slave societies, white women would often hack off the hair of their enslaved female servants because it supposedly ‘confused white men ’”

It was also common to use Black hair as stuffing for furniture and pillows. In 2021 a furniture restorer found a chair filled with afro-textured hair He stated, “Imagine how manymuch humans, how many people it took, to put this much hair inside of this chair,” (Flood, 2021). These are atrocities from the American period of slavery that seem to be forgotten, facts rarely talked about and taught in schools but sources dating as far as the 1800s shed sparks on a dark past. Like a newspaper transcript printed in The Mercury in 1888 that shows record of the use of slave skin to make leather for shoes and other accessories. The narrator writes: “One of the best known surgeons in this country, who resides in this city, has a beautiful instrument case, entirely covered with leather made from an African s skin.” This dehumanization of the bodies of Black people, including their hair which is proven to be connected to selfperception and identity must be traumatic and contain damaging generational effects

It is important to realize the psychological lengths that slave masters would go to make slaves feel less than human, such as stripping away one’s control all the way to the hair. Often, because the issue of hair is not life-threatening, people are told emotional damage because of hair is “no big deal,” but that is not true. In an article titled: “Ever Cried Getting Your Haircut? Here’s Why Hair Is Such a Major Part of Our Identities” Zoe Weiner goes into depth about how important hair is to not only our identity, but also our emotional wellbeing and our self-perception. According to Dr. Vivian Diller, we are hardwired to feel emotionally connected to our hair. It is an organ coming out of our body that we innately perceive as an extension of our identity; that is why many women cry just at the thought of losing their hair

The generational internalization of these traumas could explain why it is so easy for a community to routinely damage and straighten their hair from its natural structure in order to adhere to societal pressures. Still, at the age of ninetyseven, my great-great aunt thinks I look unkept when I wear my afro. I can’t blame her for having a hard time realizing the identity and cultural significance imbued in the natural kinky state. She might still struggle to see that the hair is mine and not society’s

The act of altering one's hair to meet societal expectations can symbolize the deeper psychological effects society has had, where Black women may subconsciously feel pressured to suppress their cultural identity to gain acceptance Black women across all generations today are taught to modify such extensions of our identity to make others even Black men comfortable. Too often has society made Black women from generations before ours, such as our mothers and grandmothers, feel obligated to engage in harmful practices to conform and make others comfortable.

Though Gen Z Black women do not face as much adversity, we still are affected by the past and the examples shown to us by the older Black women in our lives. Though it is not explicitly required from us, Gen Z Black women in many ways follow in the footsteps of our mothers and grandmothers that lead us to feel the need to suppress ourselves and our natural state We have been taught to always look like we have it all together, even if we don’t

For example, Black women often feel obligated to take on the role of “representing us ” We hold our tongue so we don t sound “Black and angry” and silence ourselves and our emotions so we seem strong and not a burden to others. We often turn to damaging regimens that reinforce the idolization of our own suppression.

As an act of love to the generations of Black women before us, we should make efforts to reverse this dissonance between ourselves, our identities and our expression. We can do this by having more conversations with the women in our lives about this weight that we hold. We can also do this by fostering and flaunting the natural hair our mothers and grandmothers gifted to us

Rhythmically Reflecting on Rhythmically Reflecting on

I Killed You is the 6th song off Tyler, the Creator's new album CHROMAKOPIA. The album has been a massive success since its release on October 28th, 2024 at 6am. I Killed You, is an anthem that details the evolution of Tyler's relationship with his hair, a familiar one for many Black people in America. Throughout the song, he navigates the historical significance of his hair in light of modern pressures to conform.

“I gotta work, I gotta eat/If they see you on top of me, I gotta leave/B*tch, I killed you”

It is often black people are forced to “choose” between opportunities and the freedom to present themselves as they are. Black hair is often considered unprofessional or inappropriate. To get ahead, to get a seat at the table, to work, to eat, they must “kill” or damage a part of themselves.

“Your natural state is threatening/To the point that I point at myself and selfesteem”

Black hair in its natural state is considered too big, wild, or unmanageable, making it a “threat”. At a certain point, these perceptions of Black hair led to insecurities and self-hatred.

“No findin’ out, a couple knots was a map/We escapin’, them routes right on the scalp”

Tyler refers to the historical significance of braided styles during slavery being used to escape. Now, he is escaping negative perceptions of what his hair means by altering it.

Juste ~breana Juste

“Couldn’t take the heat, so you’re gone when they see me yeah b*tch I killed you”

This line refers to how his hair suffered heat damage and is no longer the same. It also refers to Tyler not being able to withstand the pressure of the society he is in and changing his hair directly as a result.

“We don’t match their images so it led to damages ahhh I had to kill you”

Again, Tyler addresses the intense pressure to conform to a certain look. This pressure is so intense that he damages his hair out of feeling that he has no choice.

“You’re the room baby they’re the m*th*f*ck*n elephant/talking bout my heritage/ I would never kill you”

At the halfway point of the song, we see how Tyler's mindset surrounding his hair has evolved. His hair is no longer big, wild, or out of place in the spaces he enters, instead, the oppressive voices and opinions are. He has a newfound respect for his ancestry and would not want to dismiss or abandon it.

“You’re so beautiful”

The last line of this song is a stark contrast to how Tyler originally perceived his hair. As he matured, so did his relationship with his hair. This is something many black people can relate to, learning to love your hair in any and every state. It is normal to feel you must chemically treat or apply heat to your hair. We all deserve the freedom to do what we want with our hair without society labeling it as appropriate or not. At the end of the day, your hair is beautiful.

Why We Wear Bonnets Why We Wear Bonnets

Social media trends have rapidly spread Black cultural elements to white spaces and as a form of hair care, white people have started to wear bonnets.

Bonnets are typically satin, intended to protect your hair at night while you sleep. Black people typically wear bonnets, and some non-Black people with curly hair also opt to wear bonnets to protect their hair at night. Recently on social media non-Black individuals have taken bonnetwearing to another level.

Popular “Get Ready With Me” or “Get Unready With Me” videos feature non-Black content creators wearing bonnets in public spaces and doing marketing for their Amazon storefront or Tiktok shop bonnets to get a commission.

There is much online discourse about publicly presenting yourself with a bonnet within the Black community. Some Black influencers have said that bonnet-wearing in public is disorderly while others say they do not care about the stereotypes. Influencer Dr. Drea responds to online controversy about wearing a bonnet in public. She describes hairstyles that require time to maintain, like flexi rods, make it inconvenient to just put a hat on throughout the day. Factors such as humid climate also make bonnets more practicable. “Everything Black women choose to engage in turns into a social and political debate,” Drea said.

On the other hand, controversy surrounding white people wearing bonnets in public seems minimal.

Isabella Jansen, a white creator, has promoted bonnets on her TikTok account and has received over 2.5 million likes and 36.7 million views. This creator earns a commission for selling this product. Fellow white creator kierra 777 says in a viral post “silk bonnets are a hair care thing, not a race thing.” Bonnet wearing has now become a trend for non-Black people; bonnets are a self-care item incorporated into their daily routine.

While bonnet wearing can be beneficial for curly hair types, there is still a stigma held against Black individuals who wear bonnets publicly. Now that it has become more common around non-Black audiences, neither that stigma, nor has the discourse of bonnet wearing in public has disappeared for the Black community. With this in mind, do bonnets represent more than just a self-care tool?

The Concrete Runway and the The Concrete Runway and the

This brawl had a significantly negative impact on the league and caused full-season suspensions for some athletes and for both players as well as fans in attendance to be charged with assault and battery.

As a result of this incident, Stern desperately needed to change the league’s now tarnished public image. He did so by implementing a dress code as the league headed into the 2005-2006 season; one Stern had referred to as "a liberal and easygoing business casual attire." It prohibited any headwear and chains from being worn by athletes, and promoted suits being worn by players.

Players within the association immediately disliked the policy and commented on it. Iverson had said in a televised interview that, “They’re targeting my generation – the hip-hop generation,” as he felt like he was the primary target of this new policy. Another athlete from this era, Jason Richardson commented on Stern’s rules saying that the policy was “kind of racist” and “targeted blacks.”

Other players felt similarly, however, they had to adapt to the rules and they did, eventually making an internal competition out of the elevated attires they had to wear. Dwyane Wade and Lebron James were two of the first credited for trying to make fashion statements with a more formal style. A GQ employee, Anthony Green commented on this mindset shift between athletes, saying “When the dress code came, players had to wear suits, and there wasn’t any way around that. But guys in the NBA are competitive. So one guy buys a Valentino suit, and the next one does. Now if you’re a top NBA player, you have to look the part off the court. And if you’re not a top player, you still want to look like one.”

Green was right. It has been almost 20 years since Stern’s established that policy, and though the dress code became much more relaxed when the current commissioner, Adam Silver, came into power in 2014– players kept the mindset of making their pregame outfits an internal competition and fashion show. Some athletes such as Lamelo Ball have created their own fashion brands, and others such as Shai Gilgeous-Alexander, Russell Westbrook and Kyle Kuzma have become internet staples for their pregame outfits– Alexander has been praised as a fashion icon, while Westbrook and Kuzma have been clowned for their more experimental outfits. So while Stern’s policies were highly criticized and looked down upon when they were implemented, it has created a new part of the game for the athletes within the National Basketball Association.

AU EXCELENCE AU EXCELENCE AU EXCELENCE

STUDENT BUSINESS SPOTLIGHT STUDENT BUSINESS SPOTLIGHT

Faith L. Massey is a senior Sociology major at American University, with a focus on social change and the empowerment of the Black community. In addition to her academic pursuits, she is the founder and owner of Faith.NailedIt, a nail care business where she creates high-quality nail art while fostering meaningful connections with her clients. Through her entrepreneurial endeavors and academic work, Faith is committed to inspiring and uplifting others, emphasizing the importance of self-care and community empowerment.

Dorothy Nathan is a junior at American University, pursuing a major in Public Health with a pre-med concentration. She aspires to pursue a career in the medical field, with particular interest in gynecology or pediatrics. In addition to her academic pursuits, Dorothy is the founder and owner of StyledByDestiny, a business dedicated to providing a welcoming and inclusive space for young Black women to receive hair services on campus. Through her work, she strives to empower and remind young Black women that their hair is a symbol of strength and beauty, often referring to it as their "crown."

NAILS:

@THE.NAILPRINT

@FAITH.NAILEDIT

@NAILED.BYM

LASHES: @MAYASLLASHBAR

To me, beauty is not just a brand, not just a face. It truly is who you are. It’s a weight and power that you carry.

Truly, beauty is in the eyes of the beholde, but there is beauty in every single one of us. It just depends on how we show it. Styled by Destiny began in 2020 to elevate the way we see and feel about ourselves, on the inside, but on the outside too. ““Her hair is her Crown” is the moto I’ve used since I was a kid and I hope to make every single person that sits on my seat feel the crown that they carry after each appointment. Beauty is Power. Beauty is Key!

I became a nail technician because I love the satisfaction of creating beautiful nails that make people feel confident, and I believe investing in one’s appearance is a form of self-love. I encourage other Black business owners to dismiss the myth of perfectionism—your vision and passion are what make your business great. Trust in your worth and keep pushing forward, because your clients need what you have to offer.

CAMPUS & DISTRICT CAMPUS & DISTRICT CAMPUS & DISRICT

WHY IS CHOCOLATE CITY SORELY WHY IS CHOCOLATE CITY SORELY

LACKING IN HAIR RESOURCES LACKING IN HAIR RESOURCES FOR

“Where the problem lies is who they are listening to,” Jackson said. “You have these people, they may be smart, they may be brilliant, they may graduate from some of the best schools in the country, but they don’t have a desire to really get in the trenches of the inner city, I don’t care what they do. It’ll never actually reach the masses.”

BLACK RESIDENTS? FOR BLACK RESIDENTS?

At a predominantly white institution like American, one of the biggest hurdles POC students face is adapting to a community that wasn’t designed for them. This challenge extends to every aspect of life, from finding adequate barbershops and salons to locating serviceable beauty supplies and hair care products.

American University student Erick Encarnacion (SIS/Kogod ‘27) shared his experience identifying reliable hair care services in DC. During his first year, Encarnacion noticed that his experience was quite different from that of his peers who were able to quickly identify barbers in Northwest DC that serviced their hair texture. "It was because of a friend that lives here in DC [that I found my barber],” Encarnacion shared about his hair care routine. “We were looking for a barber shop, but then we realized that our hair textures were different, so I knew that if I wanted to find a place that would be able to give me a good haircut, I had to go to a different part of the city, specifically one with a large Latino and Black community where the barbers would be able to service my hair texture…I go to a barber in Columbia Heights every 2 weeks.”

Encarnacion finds joy in his biweekly trips to the barber, though they take a toll on his schedule. “I’m very tight with my time because I have a lot of stuff going on outside of school, so sometimes it’s hard to go to the barber and then come back to campus to do stuff. I wish there were more barber shops around campus or closer to this side of the city,” he explained. Encarnacion’s experience narrates some of the larger, systemic issues students face with hair care access in Northwest DC. Many students of color make treks far away from campus just to access adequate hair care. Hair stylist and historian Glynn Jackson cites social media as a main contributor to the lack of hair resources for residents of color.

“Most people look for [stylists] who are the most popular,” Jackson said. “They follow the trends of the hype, and that has really affected how Black-owned businesses in the District of Columbia have evolved.” Jackson began working in DC hair care 30 years ago, back when they city was still in its Chocolate City era. During his time in the city, he has watched the beauty scene change dramatically.

“It was a whole different space. We were rocking and rolling as a community. It was nothing to have a company invest as much as half a million dollars in reference to a product that represented hair artistry in the African American community,” Jackson said. “[Companies] wanted these people's business so bad that they didn’t mind spending money to affirm these customers mattered to them. But now, because of social media, people can just give somebody a couple of dollars and have a demo of the product…they don’t feel that they have to put that kind of money into the space.”

Jackson feels that this new dynamic created a disconnect between African American consumers and hair care companies, further fueling the scarcity.

Social media and a lack of communication are not the only things impacting hair resources in the city. A 2019 study by the U.S. World and News Report found that Washington, DC was the most gentrified city in the country, with 40% of its neighborhoods having been gentrified. Jackson believes this to have severely impacted the availability of hair resources for the city’s Black community

“The desire of who needs to get their hair done and who can afford to get their hair done has changed,” Jackson said.

As a staple in the hair industry, Jackson believes that local businesses have a part to play in restoring the Black hair care scene to its former glory.

“You see people move up the progression ladder, but there is still not that commitment to go back to those same communities that support their business to help their businesses grow,” Jackson said. “If the community is not healthy, how can you expect them to come back and support your business?”

For Jackson, the solution to the problem is straightforward. He wants to see joint investment from local and corporate beauty suppliers into communities of color.

“Nothing happens in the economic space where Black women and what they do with their hair is not at the top of their tier list. Nothing. They are the innovators, they are the movers and shakers,” Jackson asked “The only problem is most of the companies that have the most money don’t pour back into that same space. They want their business but the’re not trying to support them in a space where they are successful.

They want that creative and sophisticated stylist, but by that same token, they are not going to work and put the funds in to make you successful. There has to be a sense of reciprocity. There has to be a sense of we have to put more money into the communities we expect and intend to profit from.”

BLACK QUEERNESS BLACK QUEERNESS & ISOLATION & ISOLATION

Black queerness and isolation often feel inseparable, creating a reality that can seem unavoidable. For some individuals, this isolation stems from peers. For others, it is shaped by a social and political realm that struggles to recognize the complexities of Black queerness. Although this sense of isolation may go unspoken, it is deeply felt.

As I began to understand my queerness, I found myself navigating various paths an experience that many Black queer youth likely encounter. There is the path of light, where I feel complete; the path of dark, where I feel empty. Then, a third path emerges, one characterized by division. I am half. I am split.

We often associate isolation with darkness, but what if its significance is more intricate? Could it be that isolation aligns not only with emptiness but also with the feeling of being in-between? This is where I begin to discover my identity and my essence within Black queerness a space marked by both selfdiscovery and solitude. I am queer, and I am alone.

The term "queer" encompasses two meanings: 1) something that is strange or odd, and 2) a sexual or gender identity that does not conform to traditional norms. In the modern age it can be separate from the norms of heterosexuality and homosexuality as well. This sense of being “split” may also include the acknowledgment of our strangeness and our nonconformity.

Black queerness exists in a delicate, uncharted space that cannot be fully encapsulated in literature or media. It is a space that must be uniquely crafted by each individual where the creator becomes the embodiment of their identity. Restating the point, “I am queer and I am alone.”

Isolation carries a unique weight, suggesting that the isolated individual is unhappy and implying that their solitude is not a choice but a condition thrust upon them. This is the essence of Black queerness and isolation. I do not believe that the feelings of isolation I have encountered were always my decision. What spaces are available for me? What spaces are made for me? What spaces are safe for me?

Moreover, research has not adequately explored the mental health of Black queer youth. The intersection of being both Black and specifically nonbinary or transgender exacerbates one's vulnerability to chronic stress and trauma.

This draws me into my next point of beauty, creativity and expression. More specifically, Black queerness and isolation as a muse. One empirical study done by the Frontiers in Psychology demonstrated the correlation between mood and creative ideation. It focused on the COVID-19 epidemic, during which (oddly enough) the negative moods within that time incited rumination and ideation which led to further creativity.

In these moments of creative isolation, Black queerness finds its space for growth, transformation and resilience. For many, art, poetry, music and performance become channels not only to share these experiences but to construct a new reality where identity is unapologetically authentic.

The concept of Black queerness as a muse may initially seem paradoxical. Often, Black queerness is associated with conversations about discrimination and hate, coupled with the theme of isolation. But I invite us to shift that perspective on Black queerness and isolation. Isolation can nurture introspection and introspection deepens self-awareness. This awareness, though sometimes rooted in pain, becomes the seed of a powerful desire: to connect, to resist and to redefine.

It is within this realm that Black queerness and isolation cease to be solely burdens. Instead, they become a means of transcending the limitations imposed by society’s rigid structures. This is not to romanticize isolation, but to recognize the strength that arises when individuals navigate it with a sense of purpose. Here, Black queer youth and adults alike reclaim spaces for themselves, crafting narratives that honor their identities in full color.

In these spaces, being alone does not equate to loneliness. Rather, it becomes a state of being "with oneself;" a place where one's inner voice grows louder and clearer. Black queerness and isolation converge to carve out sanctuaries where identity is whole and voices are powerful. By embracing this muse, Black queer individuals transform isolation into a form of radical self-love, crafting an existence that is at once both resistance and beauty.

Through this lens, Black queerness and isolation invite us to consider: What would it mean to live in a world where Black queer youth do not have to seek solitude as a refuge but can find belonging within community? How would creativity flourish if it were nurtured in spaces of inclusion rather than exclusion?

The answer lies in a future where Black queerness is not confined to the margins but celebrated within the center of all spaces creative, social and political. It is a future where isolation, if chosen, becomes a sanctuary rather than a sentence. In this reimagined world, Black queer individuals can freely express, create and thrive, their isolation transformed into a source of boundless strength and inspiration.

MULTIMEDIA MULTIMEDIA MULTIMEDIA

PLaylist PLaylist

~Nia Elie & Jordan Anderson

“My hair to me is just a lineage of culture that is mainly tracing back to a long lin of people that are just strong and empowering to me, and I’m making sure I carr that lineage of being strong in my expression of myself.” ~ Mercy Asamoah

y hair tells my story. It represents who I am and how I he world. I use my hair and its boldness as a form of se istance. I use my hair to take space and show people t proud of my style and identity.” ~

“My hair acts as an outlet for me to express my i culture. I can express my background through m through different hairstyles. I can express any othe that I want to express, specifically ones related to Bla ~ Marvin Phillips

“My hair represents power and beauty. There is resilien way it shrinks and stretches. Not knowing what you are to get the next day is beautiful and powerful” ~ Sophia Tewodros

“Wearing my sisterlocks without shame is a sign of pride for me Coming from a time when I used to internalize what bullies said to a ounger version of me about my hair, about my skin color, and more, o being comfortable with my natural hair today and learning to feel beautiful with it has come to be a sort of metaphorical revolution for me, one in which I recognize that my living freely and honestly in this way can in part serve to make not only myself, but my ancestors proud.” ~ Ngolela Omekongo