Beauty and the Bonnet

There is a debate raging in the African American community regarding bonnets. For those who don’t know, a bonnet is also referred to as a sleep cap; something worn at night to protect our hair from fabrics known to draw oils from our hair. My bonnet has a name: Cap-o-Beauty (Butay). We are dear friends, but our friendship is between us and those who live in my household.

Comedian Monique recently posted a serious piece about bonnets being worn in public. Her concern was for the lesson we are teaching our young people, especially young girls, about taking pride in their appearance, loving themselves, and our responsibility as adults to speak up and help young women when we see this taking place in a public space. She stressed that she wasn't referring to religious head coverings or ethnic head wraps, still the pushback was swift and fierce. There are three camps: Teach Monique, Stay out of my Business, and This is Silly, There are Bigger Problems.

I am camp Teach Monique. Yes, there are much bigger problems to deal with: voting rights being stripped away, Black Lives Matter, social justice inequities, pipeline to prison, education, etc. A discussion about bonnets may sound silly, but it is emblematic of a much deeper problem not just in the African American community, but in our society at large. We have lost our grace and elegance. I am not speaking of economic status or class. What I am speaking of is our ability to carry ourselves with pride and dignity.

My mother used a term that I thought she made up: Slubborn. She would chide us and say, “stop looking so slubborn.” As it turns our slubborn is defined as a combination of “stubborn” and “slovenly”. We are slubborn when we intentionally and stubbornly don’t care how we look when we leave the house. Recently, I finally came out of my COVID bubble, ventured to a local mall and wanted to cry. Bonnets, pajamas, slippers, braless (DD+ should never go without support) and too small booty shorts. WHAT HAS HAPPENED?

I grew up poor, as did many of my neighborhood friends. What my mother taught me was to take pride in myself, take care of what I did have, keep myself and my clothes clean, and most of all, when I leave the house know that I represent parents and elders. Momma did not have fine clothes and jewelry, but you would never know it. She carried herself with class and elegance; nails always polished, hair neat and clothes clean and pressed. She set the standard and we followed her example. My friends were raised the same way.

Depression and poor self-esteem manifests itself in a varity of ways. One is our appearance. Why is this important? Because many important conversations are taking place in our nation and as African Americans, we must be at the table. Would you take someone seriously who came to the proverbial table in a bonnet and bedroom slippers? Stop lying, no, you would not. We have vital things to contribute, we are educated, articulate and our voices must be heard. Even if you never finished school, are unemployed, have a house full of kids, you don’t have to look like your circumstances. Lest anyone think I am picking on a particular socio-economic population; I have seen luxury cars pull up to Walmart with women wearing bonnets and slippers. It needs to stop.

Just like we implore your young men to pull up their pants, the same applies to how we as women present ourselves; take pride again in our appearance. If we as adult women set the standard, young women and girls will follow. Each one reach one and teach one.