A Quote by Jami Floyd

My parents pressed upon me that "In this world, you are a black woman," so I was political about my hair and would not straighten it. — © Jami Floyd
My parents pressed upon me that "In this world, you are a black woman," so I was political about my hair and would not straighten it.
The first rule about a black woman’s hair is you don’t talk about a black woman’s hair. And the second rule is you don’t ever touch a black woman’s hair without getting written permission first.
Often hair is the way we are differentiated in this culture. To me the decision to straighten your hair is deeply political.
As a black woman trying different products and figuring out what works best for me, the one thing that I realized is that hair brands lump us together as having 'black hair,' but all black hair is not alike.
I remember going through that process of growing my hair out, straightening it, cutting off the relaxed hair. I finally got to a point where I went to the Dominicans because they can straighten it real good. By the end of the day, the part of my hair that had just been pressed straight was already starting to coil back up.
The first decade of the twentieth century was not a great time to be born black and poor and female in St. Louis, Missouri, but Vivian Baxter was born black and poor, to black and poor parents. Later she would grow up and be called beautiful. As a grown woman she would be known as the butter-colored lady with the blowback hair.
I am a bit of a fundamentalist when it comes to black women's hair. Hair is hair - yet also about larger questions: self-acceptance, insecurity and what the world tells you is beautiful. For many black women, the idea of wearing their hair naturally is unbearable.
I try not to focus on politics too much - I would never be described as a hugely political woman - but the fact of the matter is, just me being a female, immigrant, stand-up comedian, single-mother ... that is political. We still live in a world where a woman with a voice is a political gesture.
In particular I want to talk about natural black hair, and how it's not just hair. I mean, I'm interested in hair in sort of a very aesthetic way, just the beauty of hair, but also in a political way: what it says, what it means.
I'm a black woman who loves hair. I enjoy changing my hair, having fun with it - just hair! I go from braids, to weaves, to wigs, to natural hair.
Who I was was not acceptable to black L.A. youth: the way I spoke and my sense of humor. Everybody else had relaxers and pressed hair. I wore my hair in an Afro puff. Nappy. The way I dressed. It was all about name brands at the time in L.A. I had no idea. All those things, I failed miserably at.
If you look up, and you see that all of a sudden the world is really coming down on people with brown hair, I would think the people with black hair would look at that and go, 'Well, that could be me, and so, I shouldn't stand for that any more than those people with brown hair stand for it.'
When I think about women of color and their place politically in the world and culture... they've had two layers of just garbage to overcome. To me, a black woman is a woman-woman.
There's no way you can do any homework on Black Lives Matters, and not see that it's a Marxist political organization. It's not about Black Death. It's not about black men. It is a political move. It's a communist political move.
Black women are some of the most colorful women in the world. We come in all shadeshave so many hair textures..eye colors..body types. In this generation, it's sad to see so many black girls claiming ethnicities that they know nothing about in hopes of impressing a man or appearing 'exotic'. So many people act as if being black and beautiful is impossible. It's not. If we wanna get technical and look at our history, almost every black American is mixed. But we must stop implying that a woman's beauty comes from a part of her that is not black.
I'm a black woman every day, and I'm not confused about that. I'm not worried about that. I don't need to have a discussion with you about how I feel as a black woman, because I don't feel disempowered as a black woman.
I'm very fortunate. I loved school and, when I went there, race, gangs and violence were not issues. There was a feeling, gone now, that you had to be presentable. If you hadn't combed your hair, older black ladies - complete strangers - would come up to you in the street and pull out a comb and straighten your tie.
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