Mama awoke especially early that day, a Saturday, HAIR DAY. With cold still in my eyes and dread in my heart I knew exactly what was to come when she yelled “Nikki, grab your chair and come into the kitchen!” In my eight-year-old mind, getting my hair combed was worse than the worst whooping, more painful than medieval torture. Imagine having dehydrated curls tighter than a baby’s grip, and someone having to rake through your tight curls with few, if any, products designed to properly hydrate your hair type. Every stroke of the comb, every part, and every braid set my scalp ablaze that Saturday morning and every Saturday morning that I can remember.
Finally, one fateful day over thirty years ago, my mother decided to alleviate my constant Hair Day pain by self-administering a “no lye” kiddie relaxer, a.k.a. a perm, on my coarse hair. I vividly remember entering our hot, cramped kitchen to find my mother standing, with flimsy gloves on her hands. On the kitchen table was a bath towel, a comb, and a container of some smelly white stuff next to an empty box with a little Black girl's face on the side of it. “Baby, I’m sorry but you don’t have that type of hair, good hair,” my mother uttered, as she spread the strange cream all over my hair and scalp. For what felt like an eternity, my scalp burned hotter than fire, rejecting every ounce of the cream that touched it. The tears, the smell, the burn, and the scabs, are all with me still. What was my body trying to tell me and my mother at that moment? Mama, why are you wearing gloves to protect your skin while you are putting that stuff directly onto my skin? Was that stuff in the container really just for me?
Our bodies have what is called an integumentary system, which consists of the skin and its related organs, such as sweat glands, hair, and nails to name a few. Our skin is the integument, or protective layer, that shields our internal organs from outside elements that we encounter every day, such as sun exposure, bacteria, and, of course, harmful chemicals. The burning sensation that we feel when we use relaxers is our body's warning signal that caustic chemicals are penetrating our body through our scalp and causing untold harm. What harm exactly? More and more studies are showing that African American women who use or have used chemical relaxers at a higher rate have an increased risk of breast cancer, reproductive diseases such as endometriosis, and pregnancy complications, as well as other serious health concerns.
The words on most relaxer packaging promising “no lye” in its formula should probably be replaced with the words “yes, lie.” Lie to me and tell me that my hair will be silky and smooth and acceptable, but leave out the fact that the hydroxide ion is still the active ingredient in a “no lye” relaxer, a substance that causes severe damage to human hair and skin. In fact, most relaxers contain the same ingredients used in depilatories, which are products used for temporary hair removal such as Nair, Veet, or Venus. Moreover, "no lye" relaxers are primarily advertised as relaxers for children and are marketed as gentle and best for sensitive scalps. But hydroxide is also used in drain cleaners - let that sink in. It is my belief that no parent would knowingly apply a drain cleaner to their child’s hair and scalp, but this is essentially what we are doing when we use these products on our children.
Ignorance isn’t bliss, it’s brainless. We should be sure to investigate any chemical hair treatment that we are thinking of using to understand the pros and cons involved. The image of a little girl on many relaxer packages is meant to reassure parents that this answer to the kinky hair prayer is safe and effective. More often than not, however, the latest research indicates that these treatments may not be as safe as advertised, especially for children.
With enough tears streaming down my face to form a puddle beneath me, every 28 days I can do nothing but collapse on the bare floor and hold my legs close to my chest as I experience the agony of menstruation with the painful complications of endometriosis. Sometimes in my suffering, I wonder if the marketing of such a potentially toxic product to African American women and girls, a product that may cause irreparable reproductive damage, is by design. As I lay there I look up to the heavens and wonder - will I ever hear the footsteps of a child carrying my DNA following behind me? Or did the decision my mother made to alleviate my pain on Hair Day unknowingly cause me another more severe ache? Were the harms apparently caused by these hair products unforeseen, or is the beauty industry a knowing part of some kind of medical apartheid? I pray that the answers to these questions, and the child meant to enter the world through my womb, come soon.