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For blacks, hair to die for

Straightening has become a way for many women to orient their lives.

For black women, straightened hair has been a sign of assimilation into American society, which maintains Eurocentric standards of beauty and normalcy. And this is where our troubles begin.

The hot comb is particular to the black-female experience. Its purpose is simple: to turn textured black hair straight. It can be found in homes, most often in bathroom drawers or closets, next to a million other hair products: sheens, pomades, curlers, silk scarfs. Hair maintenance is often a weekend routine for black women, who invest billions of dollars a year in the beauty industry.

To have a hot comb run through one's hair is a rite of passage. Many black girls can remember their first press and curl, and the fascination they felt the first time their hair lay on their shoulders instead of coiling toward their ears.

Why did we feel prettier then? Perhaps because straightened hair is often associated with special occasions - weddings, holidays, picture days. So straightened hair itself has become something special. Natural, kinky, coiled hair, by contrast, is ordinary, plain, and uneventful.

The smell of straightened hair is instantly recognizable. Kitchens become makeshift beauty parlors on Sundays, as the scents of hot metal, warmed follicles, and melting hair grease collide over a hot stove. Here, black women find fellowship, joking about one another's "kitchens" - where hair wraps itself into tight coils at the nape of the neck - or the perils of maintaining neat "edges" along the hairline. The comb's temperature is tested on an old hand towel, and tight kinks are laid flat, section by section, with a simple (and cautious) rake of the teeth, and then a smoothing over with the comb's spine.

The term good hair circulates carelessly in black communities, making hair part of a value system. (It's also the title of a new Chris Rock documentary about the black-hair business.) The notion has been ingrained, maintained, and reinforced in black consciousness.

In corporate settings, black women who want to keep their hair natural often face resistance. Though many companies are embracing a broader idea of professionalism to be sensitive to cultural differences (or avoid discrimination lawsuits), there is still debate over whether braids, twists, Afros, or locks are "appropriate" for the American office. A correlation between hair texture and success is made, directing black women to straighten their hair in order to achieve.

Almost unconsciously, hair-care routines dictate the way black women orient themselves. In our childhoods, we are discouraged from running around in the summer air or lingering in a steamy shower, for fear our hair will "turn back" and we'll lose the attractiveness that took hours to unearth. As adults, we protest when someone with "pretty" hair decides to abbreviate her length or go natural.

When I was a child, my great-aunt admonished my mother for putting my hair in "those African braids and things," because I had "such pretty hair." She stroked it as if trying to release it from the culture that constrained it. Though I dismissed my aunt's opinions as dated, I still felt a little less pretty when she told me to stay out of the sun lest I get "too dark."

We go to amazing lengths for length. We dance hot metal by our faces or shrug off the chemical burns inflicted on our scalps by misapplied hair relaxers. The fixation - what my mother calls the "hair complex" - can be damaging.

A 2008 study by Amy J. McMichael of Wake Forest University's School of Medicine found that a third of black women cite their hair as the main deterrent to regular exercise, because they cannot easily wash it afterward, style it, and go. Because over-washing black hair can lead to breakage, and a sweaty scalp can leave an orderly "kitchen" in complete disarray, many black women have reservations about breaking a sweat.

The study also noted that 77 percent of African American women are overweight, leaving them susceptible to health risks such as hypertension, diabetes, and more.

As someone who chemically relaxes her own shoulder-length hair, I am hardly issuing a call to arms against straightening or lengthening methods. But black women should reconsider the value of long, straight hair by any means necessary, and of well-behaved hair in lieu of well-controlled blood pressure.