A cultural exploration of head coverings- turning simple pieces of fabric into crowns of protection and self-expression

As a child and through my pre-teen years, when I wore silk pressed curls and crimps, I understood the value of scarves and bonnets. An unspoken tradition, wrapping my hair or donning a bonnet is still the first thing I do when I come home. Conversely, the men in my family, the boys in our neighborhood, faithfully wore a durag to train their curls and keep their waves in check. Low cut caesars with the deep waves to be exact. Outside the refuge of our homes, we saw simple baseball caps elevated to symbols of high fashion and street style. 

Black people possess the ingenuity to turn head coverings into vessels for cultural expression. Yet, its roots lie in resilience.  In 1786, Creole women of color living in Louisiana, Black women, were forced to cover their hair known as Tignon Laws. In the present day,the weaponization and policing of Black hair lingers with cyclic discourse around wearing bonnets in public. Interestingly enough, bonnets have origins of being worn by eurocentric high society women in the 17th century but later become necessary hair protections for Black women during slavery. The the line of history repeating itself we now see an uptick across social media non-Black women seeing the benefits of wearing a silk bonnet. 

If only we knew the grit and resilience our ancestors carried so that we could have the freedom to express ourselves freely with our hair. When I picture my ancestors, I envision thick manes of hair that reach toward the sky; their braids, locs, and bantu knots adorned with beads, jewels, and incredible power to overcome tremendous strife.

-Quani for Soft Rows