Don’t call black or African hair “ethnic hair” when we are the majority on this continent. It makes those who say it sound ignorant. To point out the obvious, everybody in the world has an ethnicity. Some have more than one. In South Africa, the use of this term is mainly by white and other non-black folk who just incorporate whatever US terminology comes their way and slap it into the going culture. That the dominant culture in South Africa is Eurocentric, and even beauty terms for black folk are pressed into service by and for the understanding of white folk is nothing new. We’ve been “othered” for centuries and we keep having these conversations about a dominant culture that doesn’t represent the majority population. In the US this term “ethnic” is used to describe anybody else but white folk, but when it comes to hair it becomes interchangeable with black hair.

There’s definitely a cultural hegemony in place in South Africa as well. When it comes to aesthetics, this is an obvious starting point. From who gets onto magazine covers, and who gets access to products and services. In a country where the majority of people are black, that products are still overwhelmingly marketed white, and mostly to and for white people, it beggars belief. In this society it is evident that whiteness has primacy, especially in business, retail spaces, media and advertising.

It’s difficult to describe what it’s like being on the African continent as a black person and being made to feel like a minority—a minor, peripheral being with inconsequential actions and needs. From having to search for hair and beauty products as though you were a foreigner in your own land, to deciding that some styles just aren’t for you because your bum or your hips won’t fit many items of clothing. The market doesn’t consider that most women here have African shapes and would need clothes that fit our body types, or that we have African hair and skin and will need African hair and beauty products—in the main aisle, thanks very much.

Words like “ethnic” are used to show us just what our place is in the greater scheme of things. Such telling language as the word “ethnic” is part of that drive to erase our authentic beauty or deny us standing. In many shops our products have a special, designated section, away from white women’s hair products, which are marketed as the norm.

Whether it’s well-known Talk Radio 702 host John Robbie’s recent broadcast, or a South African retail magazine with an uninformative advertorial about “ethnic hair” products that it’s pushing, in South Africa this term needs to die a quick death. It was a bit weird that John Robbie and the guest on a segment entitled “John Robbie Explores the Politics of Black Hair” didn’t seem to have a full grasp of what black hair is like or even about its needs. Robbie asked whether it wasn’t about having an individual choice to wear weaves or extensions, and seemed fascinated by Hugh Masekela’s opinions about that choice. Whiteness and its ongoing violence against black beauty and the black body were not even touched. It was just called “politics”.

The first guest represented a company specializing in Indian hair products, yet he had a lot to say about the business of black hair, and what would be on display at that weekend’s hair extravaganza. Okay, fine. You can promote your products to black folk as well, but at least know what you’re talking about. Saying that the natural hair care ‘trend’ is “slowly coming to our shores” from the US when we are the ones who have always had this hair and its never been a trend here on this continent but a reality, was slightly shocking to hear. Does he even understand that our centuries’ old braiding and other hair arts have always been on these shores? And there have been people with businesses providing natural hair care products and management like salons for locs, braids, cornrows, etc for absolute yonks? All the other stuff—the weaving and chemical relaxing—now those are trends my friend. I would also suggest that we black women be the first port of call if you want to know from the experts on black hair.

Our encounters with whiteness have lead to us being bad to our hair. The hair that can make perfect circles naturally, these perfectly coiled tight curls that if you cut along the strand you get mini circles. That is 360° of wonder and magic. It’s just one of the signs that there’s something unique and totally special about us. But there we’ve bought into the idea that what naturally grows out of our own heads is something to be ashamed of, changed or abused. That it isn’t “professional” “sleek” or “laid” or any of the other terms that black people have been told or have come up with to use to justify 180-degreeing that coily or ascendant curl pattern. White supremacy got us, and it got us good. According to that false logic good hair simply isn’t the healthy hair that grows out of our own scalps. We’re too “ethnic” or even, my favorite: “too militant” if we wear our hair the way it grows. This has been said in South Africa, in white media circles. Maybe it got better, but years ago it was the norm to hear such things.

For these other people who show interest in our hair it’s purely about business, they could care less about the health or politics of our hair, or even the spiritual elements. That’s why even John Robbie had to ask: “when you say “ethnic” hair do you mean black people’s hair?” and the “expert” replied, “it’s African women’s hair”. No self-awareness there, that he has an ethnicity as well, and John Robbie with what sounds like Scottish or Irish ancestry or ethnicity, is also “ethnic”.

There was at least one other guest on the show, and it was a black woman, so the producers weren’t totally off, even though the title of the segment was. Kavuli Nyali’s business is the business of hair. She’s a very good, respected hair blogger and is an expert in the field. She talked about children who are stopped from wearing certain styles at school because they’re deemed “exotic” or “unkempt” (see, terms and conditions may apply) and offered a family hair soiree to give solutions and advice to parents.

These kinds of terms such as “ethnic” “exotic” or “unkempt” aren’t neutral at all and are about white supremacy, and won’t go away easily. Our hair has been the subject of films, books, countless articles and studies—we as black folk are obsessed with our own hair, naturally. The way we see it, how others see it, and what it says about us, and our encounters with others—all this is part of our documented experience. These are usually emotional accounts of our hair and beauty journeys and are based on much of the trauma we have faced.

The love-hate relationship we have with our hair, and our physical appearance in general, wasn’t of our own making, but at this point in time, the lovely thing that’s happened is that there is much more awareness and self-love. We’re finally giving in to the love we should have had a long time ago. And I say “we” to include African women on the continent and in the Diaspora, whether sporting a wig or weave, natural, tightly coiled or loosely curled, bald, dyed, locked—the myriad ways we have as black women to express ourselves and our unique beauty.

I think we need to be wary of who is getting into the business of our hair, and how and why they’re even talking about it. In the end it is us who have to live with our hair, and make peace with our journey with it, good or bad and all that that entails.