Ask any Black woman, and she'll likely have a story about wash day. In my family they were particularly sacred when I was growing up. Because my mom was a cosmetologist, our kitchen was converted into a beauty salon every weekend. Every Sunday she had a routine for my twin sister, Andrea, and me. We'd start first thing in the morning and go until 3 or 4 p.m. (I was less tender-headed, so I always got the honor of going first.) She'd start by rinsing my hair in the kitchen sink, then Andrea's. Then she'd go back and forth through the whole thing: Rinse me. Rinse Andrea. Blow-dry me. Blow-dry Andrea.
We'd talk about everything during that time. She'd teach us how to cornrow, French-braid, and straighten our hair with a hot comb without burning it all off. She'd ask us about school—whether we had a bad day that week or had any problems in school. She was also an excellent cook, so while she was doing our hair, she'd make us snacks and Popsicles. The TV was never on. We entertained each other. And as my sister and I got older, she'd let us style the other. Don't get me wrong: It was a disaster (my hair fell out once in a straightening incident gone bad), but the most important thing was that we were having fun and felt like we could be creative.
So the day I found out I was pregnant with a little girl, I was overjoyed. Hair played such a meaningful role in my relationship with my family. I couldn't wait to pass down my knowledge and have a routine for my daughter and me that was all our own.
At first, my daughter's hair was soft and wavy—very low-maintenance. I washed it with baby soap and sprayed a little water in it whenever I wanted her curls to pop. That was it! I dreamed about all the pretty barrettes and styles I would be able to create once her hair got longer. But after Sophia passed the eighth-month mark, her hair texture started to change. Her curls got tighter and she developed a flaky, almost hairless patch in the back of her scalp. All the basic drugstore baby stuff seemed to be drying her out. I was concerned, but experts assured me this was common with babies.
I wanted her hair to be more moisturized, which I thought would help with her hair loss. I love organic coconut oil for my own hair, so I started to use it in her hair every other day to lock in the moisture and keep her hair shiny. This worked for a while until she turned one and her hair changed dramatically again. It became much more coarse and hard to comb through. Sophia also started fighting me every time I tried to wash her hair. She cried whenever water touched her face and would not sit still long enough for me to style it.
I wouldn't go as far as to say that I felt like a bad mom, but I definitely felt frustrated. As someone who's spent years doing natural hair, I thought this would be the easy part of motherhood. Was she too young to use the products I used on my hair? When was the right time to use actual shampoo and conditioner on a baby? I was second-guessing everything I thought I knew.
On top of that, being Black and a new mom, I was afraid of being judged because of how my daughter’s hair looks. For years Black women have had to deal with social prejudices around wearing our hair in its natural state. Society has deemed this unprofessional or “unkempt.” Even as these discriminatory beauty ideals have finally begun to evolve, it’s been a struggle to embrace how I see myself and how I wear my hair.
I don’t want that for my daughter. I want her to wear her hair proudly and know she’s more than her hair. Recently I’ve been reading the book Hair Love, which celebrates a little girl’s natural texture and all the ways her hair is special, to Sophia before bedtime. I want to instill in her that no matter what her texture is, her hair is beautiful all the same.
And yet, for all the articles and message boards I found on children's hair, I couldn't find any resources specifically on Black babies' hair. So one late night I went down a hole on YouTube—which, as a new mom, is basically my solution to everything now. There I found several videos from Black mothers who were experiencing the same issues I was. I just felt so comforted to know I wasn’t alone and that they had real advice beyond “this happens.”
Ten months later and after a few trials and errors, I finally have a better understanding of how to care for my now two-year-old's hair. Every other Sunday she gets excited when I tell her it's time for her wash day. As I let her pour the water over her own head, I'll ask her questions about what she likes or what book she wants to read. She'll hold her rubber bands for me as I stretch out her curls. And when it's finished, she'll look in mirror and say, “I look pretty.”
It makes me proud to feel like I'm sharing something with her and that I'm teaching her to love her hair. And now, if another new parent is looking for advice for their Black baby's hair, I can share what actually helped.
Wash once every other week.
I used to wash Sophia’s hair once a week, but quickly realized this was too much. It was drying her scalp out, which caused dry patches. Now we wash and condition every other week with the Shea Moisture Kids line, and in between washes I touch up her hair with African shea butter mixed with organic coconut oil.
Find a gentle detangling brush.
This detangling brush was chasing me all over Instagram, and so I finally decided to buy it. It’s an absolute game changer. It’s an all-plastic brush with soft, flexible bristles that puts minimum pressure on your hair and scalp. I use it after I’ve washed Sophia’s hair and while the conditioner is still in. It detangles with ease and prevents breakage.
Section and stretch out curls with hair ties.
This technique is a great way to stretch a toddler's curls without using heat. After I’ve conditioned and detangled her curls, I part her hair in six sections and use black elastic hair ties to hold her hair in place. It takes about 20 minutes, and I do this while she watches her favorite show (which is currently Blue's Clues and You). This style can last about a week or so, then I usually take it down and cornrow her hair or remoisturize and put it back into this style.
Invest in a shield hat for wash day.
Despite my daughter’s affinity for taking baths, anytime I’d try to wash her hair, she would cry, scream, and kick. She just couldn’t deal with water cascading down her face. This shield hat that her aunt found on Amazon is a lifesaver. It’s flexible, sturdy, and adjustable, so it keeps water and soap from flowing into your baby's eyes and ears. It’s turned a wash day that was once almost intolerable into a fun experience for both of us.
Cynthia Simpson is a casting producer for Condé Nast. Follow her on Instagram @naturalcyn.
