In honor of black curls
KANSAS CITY, MO. — Growing up in a multicultural household, Christa Rice felt her thick, naturally curly hair was something undesirable, something to be hidden away. “As a kid I had the thickest hair in all my family,” said Rice, a Kansas City artist and social worker.
“My family is Black, Mexican and Native American. We all look different. Me and my sister both had these curls that nobody else has, and my family used to tell us we needed to perm it because it was too thick. As a kid hearing that, you begin to feel it is ugly.”
Rice is now working to try to make sure no other child feels that way. She recently hosted her sixth annual event outside the Liberty Memorial, a special day for Black women and girls to let their hair down: the KC Curly photo shoot.
She created the event to shine a spotlight on the beauty of Black hair, with over 100 women of color clad in purple and ready to experience the sisterhood of natural curls. Back when she started it in 2015, Rice was unprepared for just what an impact her idea would have.
Growing up with the implication that thicker hair meant unattractive, Rice, like many Black women, chose to conform. Keeping her hair relaxed and straight through chemical treatments, she began to see a change in the way she was treated.
Each new experience reinforced the idea that natural Black hair was something negative and something to be avoided if a woman expected to be considered beautiful.
“When I got older, I felt I didn’t get any attention from men unless my hair was straightened. When I first considered going natural, my boyfriend at the time didn’t understand why I would want to go out like that,” said Rice.
Rice knew she couldn’t be the only one going through this. After coming across a photograph of a stairwell of beautiful Black women all standing proud with natural curls and Afros, Rice became inspired for what could be. Rice decided to become that local resource for Black natural hair. She wanted to create a space where women can congregate with other women of color, share their journey and make connections with fellow natural hair enthusiasts.
She’s been holding the KC Curly event on the third Saturday of September.
“I picked the Liberty Memorial because liberty means freedom, and this event is all about women being free,” said Rice.
“The first year I expected maybe 40 women to come. We had like 100 women show up, and I wasn’t expecting all that.”
Rice would unknowingly create an event that would act as a sledgehammer swung at the stigmas of Black hair and breaking misconceptions of what defines beauty.
Starting off as just a photo shoot offering free pictures, it has grown into a multifaceted event adding a runway show, poetry reading and sponsored prizes.
“God created all of us to look different and be different. We all have different talents, and I think sometimes our society wants everyone to fit into a specific mold and that is just not how it is. Anytime we can get together to teach women to love themselves and how they were created, you can never go wrong.”
Jill Washington Photographer
A history of stigma
Rice knows that in a society of relaxers, wigs and weaves, Black women have many alternatives to wearing their hair natural.
Hair has long been a topic of contention within the Black community, spanning back to the slave trade when Europeans, in an effort to strip Africans of their culture, went about systematically eliminating language, religion and, yes, even hairstyles.
Heads once adorned with intricate designs, braids and locs were shaved or bound with a scarf.
It was made clear for centuries that the straighter a Black person’s hair, the more attractive they were.
With the invention of Black hair products like perms and hot combs, Black women and even men would begin a regimen of unhealthy hair routines to achieve that perceived beauty.
One aspect that Rice has been surprised by is the number of white mothers with biracial daughters who have ethnically thick hair.
In many of these families, these children can grow up seeing their hair as something negative.
“There were a lot of white women who brought their daughters,” said Rice.
“Some mothers have told me that their daughter feels different coming from a white family, and (they love) being able to see their daughters in a place where they feel beautiful with their natural hair.”
‘Something really special’
Photographer Jill Washington, a white mother of a biracial daughter, went to college with Rice and has volunteered since the beginning of KC Curly.
“God created all of us to look different and be different,” said Washington, 38.
“We all have different talents, and I think sometimes our society wants everyone to fit into a specific mold and that is just not how it is. Anytime we can get together to teach women to love themselves and how they were created, you can never go wrong.”
Washington was among several white mothers who were at the shoot with close to 200 Black women, a situation many would shy away from, being outside their comfort zone.