I've always had long, thick hair. As far as I can remember, washing and styling my hair was a time-consuming task for my mother and painful for my tender scalp. I dreaded the process of getting my hair washed and, when I got older, pressed. I also hated having the endless array of greases, oils, sprays, gels and other products weigh down and gunk up my tresses to achieve the simplest of looks. 

When I turned 14, I got my first chemical relaxer (for those who don't know, it's a product to straighten hair). Although I had to get a touch-up every 6-8 weeks, it seemed to make my hair life simpler. I could pretty much do what I wanted, when I wanted with my hair from day to day. I’m generally a low-maintenance type of girl, so relaxers fit my "comb it and go" life. Within the last year or so, I've had issues with extremely dry scalp, dandruff and breakage. It became uncomfortable to have relaxer crème anywhere near my scalp: tense burning sensations, scabbing, soreness. It was time to explore other options. 

I decided to join the ever-growing legion of African-American women "going natural" (either wearing their natural texture or straightening their hair without chemicals). I started my "natural" life continuing to have my hair straightened; this time, my stylist was using just a flat iron and humidity blocker product (humidity and moisture can cause frizz; with a relaxer, reversion isn't much of a problem). Given it was summer and my home AC was broken, keeping the frizz away became nearly impossible. A week after visiting the salon, most of my hair was straight, but my roots and nape were frizzy and hard to comb through. As I began to ask around for tips on how to remain as laid as I was with a relaxer, I learned my choice to be relaxer-less was apparently a socio-political one. Before giving me any real suggestions and answering my inquiry, some friends went on tangents about how I needed to accept what "God gave me" and stop "fearing" the texture I was born with, insisting that I wear my hair curly and implying there was no way to keep my hair straight (not true). One friend went so far as to say I had a self-hatred problem because I liked my hair straight. You see, to give context for their remarks, black Americans have an ugly history with hair and beauty measures. 

As critical commentary from within the black community regarding the demeanor, speech and physical appearance of Rachel Jeantel, a witness in the George Zimmerman murder trial, continue to roll in, “why are blacks divided and always pick on each other?” keeps being asked. The issue of “in-fighting” isn’t exclusive to blacks or African-Americans. It’s an element seen in all socially oppressed groups or communities that are fiercely discriminated against (ex. women, the poor, racial minorities, and homosexuals). Isolation and prejudice are very powerful tools used by those in dominant social control to keep others separated and suppressed. To illustrate how in-fighting begins among an out-casted group, I’m going to use the example of a school yard: something most people can relate to.

Let’s say at a school of 800 students, 700 are tall, skinny, blonde and middle-class, and 100 are short, stocky, brunette and poor. The 700 are obviously the dominant. The 700 reject the 100 because they look different and think they’re less-than because they cannot afford the same lifestyle. It’s emotionally communicated to the 100 that being short, stocky, brunette and poor are negative traits, and they begin to have low self-esteem and self-resentment. Self-resentment leads them to dislike, bash and identify flaws in their own kind because they represent what they wish they weren’t. Parts of the 100 try to lose weight and dye their hair to become more acceptable to the 700; these 100 are either viewed by their own as traitors or put on a pedal-stool for more closely resembling the 700. Those who are accepted (or tolerated, rather) by the 700 increase their hatred towards the rest of the 100 to remain in the circle. Those 100 who don’t care to be accepted by the 700 embrace who they are, but create standards and expectations as to what 100-ness means. Others who don’t meet the criteria for “real 100-ness” are deemed “not 100-enough” and ostracized. They now don’t fit in anywhere; 700’s hate them for being 100, and some 100’s hate them for not being “100-enough.” The 100’s are now a group of students at odds.

Social classes and categories are not evil within themselves, nor are differences. Excluding and despising others based on differences is what creates problems. For populations on the losing end of social hierarchies, it automatically creates a hostile environment of competition, jealousy, poor self-concept and “in-fighting.” My father once described black people as crabs in a bucket. Crabs crawl over each other, trying to get up the wall and out of the bucket. In the process of going up the wall, they often pull those further along down. Incidentally, they drop too and have to start all over. Even though many African-Americans (and other oppressed groups) are very aware of how centuries of prejudice, injustice and discrimination have affected relations within, it’s hard to undo what’s been psychologically learned; especially when racism is still such an impacting force. We constantly perpetuate the lies and stereotypes we’ve been taught about ourselves to each other and the world. In the case of Rachel Jeantel, we passed on the lesson-lie that dark skin is hideous and made of fun of her looks. On a personal note, through most of grade-school, I was that “100” who didn’t fit in anywhere. White kids either dismissed me or constantly highlighted my race, while black kids measured my “blackness.” I was “white” because I liked pop and rock music and wasn’t raised in the inner-city.

Again, this is a behavior pattern seen in all oppressed populations. One of my friends complained that in her workplace, the women are always secretly gossiping about one another and they try to stunt each other’s success. A higher-level executive admitted to her “They’ll [men] allow only so many spots for women to take charge. If you don’t eliminate your competition, you won’t make it.” Actress Gabrielle Union said in a recent interview that she was a “mean girl” who cut other black actresses down until she realized their “shine” didn’t dim her own, but propelled it. Another friend, who’s Latina, said she doesn’t like to socialize with other Latinos because of their dissension. I then asked “Aren’t you contributing to the separation if you shun them?” Although internal backbiting is frustrating (to say the least), we must not give up on our own and assist the division. As members of socially subordinate, “outsider” communities, to interfere with the effects of discrimination, we must constantly hold each other-and ourselves-accountable. Think before you speak and act. Analyze your biases and train of thought. Don’t believe the stereotypes and don’t live them out. Call those around you out when they say and do divisive things. It’s all easier said than done, but a conscious effort made yields results.