Film + TV:

The Good, the Bad, and the Hypocrisy of Good Hair

Chris Rock’s new documentary takes a comedic glimpse at black hair politics.

By Latoya Peterson
October 22, 2009

Chris Rock in his new documentary, Good Hair. (Roadside Attractions)

To be honest, comedian Chris Rock’s latest foray into documentary, Good Hair, in theaters in wide release tomorrow, doesn’t have much depth. That’s not to say it’s without merit. Rock dreamed up this film 20 years ago, after checking out the Bronner Bros hair show. When his 6-year old daughter noted she was beginning to hate her natural hair, he decided to finally make the film. Throughout the journey, Rock illuminates the lengths that women will go through to keep up their hair (one starlet mentions she has a pool, but will only go in up to her neck). The film contains comedic interviews and an enlightening fact-finding mission: one that follows him through a hair school, a relaxer factory, the Bronner Brothers hair show, and salons and barbershops around the country. Rock also travels from Los Angeles, the weave capital of the United States, to India, the largest exporter of human hair used in weaves, in pursuit of understanding "good hair." It’s a lengthy, amazing trip to be sure, but ultimately, Rock doesn’t delve too deeply into the mindsets or politics behind “good hair.”

While some have protested that Good Hair is pro-natural hair, it’s actually fairly apolitical. If anything, the film doesn’t give much airtime to a natural hair argument at all. Rock might be trying to raise awareness about the challenges black women face with their hair, but he takes the interviewees’ points at face value, rarely questioning any statements. Much has been made about jokes about white people and their discomfort with natural hair, but Rock’s documentary focuses on hair issues for women in the entertainment industry, the breeding ground for many of America’s major insecurities. Speaking to women like Eve, Raven-Symoné, Meagan Good, Melyssa Ford, Salt-n-Pepa, and Sarah Jones, Rock provides an interesting perspective on hair politics in an industry in which women (and men) are instantly judged on their appearance. A few of the entertainers refer to hearing negative comments about natural hair, but most point to the perceptions of people like casting agents, who normally seek a so-called “standard look.”

One of the most revealing segments departs from Hollywood and features five high school seniors about to take their first steps into the real world. Only one of the five students chose to wear her hair in an Afro; the others, while discussing finding a job, openly admit they think natural hair is unprofessional and that an Afro "wouldn’t match" with a suit. The four girls openly admit that they would not hire someone with their fifth friend’s natural hair. This is the only moment in the movie that explicitly deals with bias toward natural hair and watching the growing discomfort of the targeted girl is both distressing and revealing. The scene with the students demonstrates the hair policing that exists within the black community. Oftentimes, much of the animus about how hair is worn comes from those who have made the opposite choice, so women who straighten their hair feel attacked for doing so, and women who embrace a natural style feel shunned.

The world of relaxers plays a major role in Hair. Rock investigates the production of relaxer, the chemical composition of active products and the attitudes and memories surrounding the first application. The subject allows Rock to speak with men—most notably Ice-T and Al Sharpton—and women about their shared experiences with relaxing products. Most girls wait until they are pre-teens to start straightening, but Rock finds a child as young as 6 years old receiving a touch-up. As the stylist applies the relaxer, she explains she’s relaxed the hair of children as young as 3. Watching the 6-year-old child getting her hair relaxed is a frightening reminder as to how soon girls start to internalize the idea that pretty hair equals straight hair.

Unexpectedly, Rock takes on the world of weave, which is often ignored in discussions about hair. The film reveals the origins of human hair weaves (often farmed from temples in India where people are sacrificing it) and the exorbitant pricing of hairpieces, which can cost anywhere from hundreds to thousands of dollars. One of the truly hysterical moments in the film occurred when a top celebrity stylist and a travelling weave salesman are having a frank conversation, and the stylist accidentally reveals Vivica Fox’s weave secret. The men on screen froze and looked at each other—the people in theater where I watched Hair let out a quiet "Oooooh."

Another of Hair’s best moments comes when Rock attempts to sell black hair to beauty supply stores, walking through the doors hands full of curly, Afro-styled wigs. While the segment is played for laughs, one interaction in particular stands out: When a black female recipient of Rock’s pitch, sporting extensions, angrily pushes the natural hair back. When Rock points out that this is black hair, she replies, "No one is into that style anymore."

Men’s opinions of straight or natural hair also play a large role in the film, as Rock links many black women’s hair preferences to maintenance. He asks men how they feel about things like being able to stroke woman’s hair during intimate moments. However, Rock also makes the (often incorrect) assumption that men must be paying for all of this maintenance without speaking to women about their actual experiences. Rock also avoids asking men about their own hair preferences and what type of hair attracts them to women—many women feel pressured to straighten their hair or maintain a weave specifically because of a preference stated by men they date or their intimate partners. The ideas and influence of men in deciding what looks beautiful on a woman are barely touched upon. Only record executive Andre Harrell admits on camera that he is attracted to a woman with long, flowing, bouncy hair, the type that many women feel compelled to purchase.

Interestingly, the end of the film morphs into a love and acceptance fest. In spectacular show of cognitive dissonance, the women interviewed all talk about loving the hair you have and being true to yourself, despite the fact that, when grilled in the film, Raven-Symoné, Nia Long, and Melyssa Ford all proclaimed how much they love their weaves and how they would never give them up.

Flaws aside, overall, I enjoyed Hair. While I doubt any one effort can accurately capture all of the issues contained in black hair politics, I found the film to be amusing, entertaining, and an interesting glimpse into the perspective of a father trying to grapple with ideas he’d formerly been lucky enough to deal so directly with. The film excels in demonstrating how hair can be fashion, a woman’s "glory," or a statement of self-confidence or politics, but is often a confusing and contradictory mix of the personal and the political.

Latoya Peterson is the editor of Racialicious.

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