Good and Perfect: Why Does Hair Matter?

I recently finished reading Daring Greatly, a fantastic book that speaks about the scarcity principle and how we have a tendency to operate out of our culture of “never enough.” There is never enough time or money or resources. We are never good enough, never perfect enough, never thin enough, never certain enough… I was challenged by the idea that my first waking thought of the day is often “I didn’t get enough sleep” or “I don’t have enough time.” Truly, I am the worst at this. So I’m not there, even a little bit, but I’m convicted about my mindset and figuring out ways to create space and margin, and to embrace the season we are in instead of longing for the next one.

And so, even in the busy, I’ve learned a lot this month. For starters, we are finishing up an 8-week foster/adopt support group that has really transformed our thinking and equipped us with so much knowledge and understanding that we just didn’t have before. Prior to September, we understood that L had behaviors that were different than our other kids, but we didn’t truly understand the why behind any of that. We have not arrived, but we are so much further down the path of understanding in just 8 short weeks and we finally feel empowered to tackle these hard things that left us frustrated before. (Through this class I have become obsessed with Dr. Karyn Purvis and her research on brain development in traumatized children. I majored in Psychology with an emphasis in Childhood Development so the nerdy part of me is intrigued, but the foster mom in me is crying out “YES! This is what I’ve been looking for.” So, I recommend that you go read everything she has ever written).

During October we also had a lot of intensive training classes, inspections, visits, and home studies that were part of transitioning our foster license to a more intensive level of care. From the outside, it seems a bit crazy for us to take on any more, but from our perspective, we are really excited about a higher level of support for our family and for L. We are thankful for the timing of all of this. I am a big believer in knowledge being power and we feel like a lot of what has gone on this month has given us knowledge and understanding, which is (hopefully) shaping us into better parents.

I finished out this month by spending 6-7 hours on hair this weekend. So why in the world, in my home with four kids that has been full of school, church, and foster training activities, is hair important enough to spend that amount of time on? How did that become my first priority as I wrapped up an incredibly busy month?

Well, I’ve become a student of black girl hair over the last 10 months. I’ve ordered and read books, I’ve studied blogs and watched YouTube videos on repeat, I’ve had lots of conversations with white and black friends who are raising little girls, I’ve approached strangers in restaurants and walked into a black beauty supply store and asked for help. And my efforts have led to praise from people who have no idea what they are talking about (truly, anyone that knows this hair can see that I’m not that great at it). But I have prided myself on what I’ve learned and sent many annoying pictures to friends showing off my latest work. What I haven’t done a good job of is explaining why her hair even matters.

As a side note, I should say that, without sharing details, most foster parents are not allowed to make major changes to a hairstyle without permission. Our situation is a little bit different.

There were a couple of things early on that really impacted my decision to make hair a priority. The first was when we received our foster license and were called about a placement. I was asked if we had a gender or race preference. The social worker said that many white women are hesitant to take African American girls because they are “scared of their hair.” The second thing that happened was within the first month of us having L when I attended a retreat for foster and adoptive moms. One of the keynote addresses was “White Families Raising Black Children.” It was so good and I scribbled down notes the whole time, but one thing that stood out to me was when the wife (this session was led by a husband and wife team) said “Mamas, learn their hair!” This isn’t a racial divide thing. It’s a natural difference. I have a daughter and a son, and if I tried to raise my son the same way as I do my daughter, I would be ignoring his God-given difference from her. Similarly, if I ignore that L is a different race and has unique skin and hair, then I am doing her a disservice.

She is not Caucasian. I want to celebrate her individuality, something that doesn’t happen a lot to foster children. I have been in many meetings where I have left so frustrated, wondering if foster kids get to have any dignity. Being a part of a broken system with a revolving door of workers, the uniqueness of these kids can often get lost and forgotten, and they get treated like names on a paper that either fall on the next person’s “will” or “will not” take list. It’s an unfair cycle.

And let me tell you, I fail all the time. All the time. The people closest to me know that. There are some things we have a handle on and there are other things that I just really screw up when it comes to fostering. But I realized early on that taking care of her hair was a way that I could show her love.

If you know her, then you know that she is a beautiful child. I hate that I can’t show off her cute little picture online, but trust me when I say that she is adorable. I want to highlight her beauty and allow her to feel worthy of compliments. If I had not spent time on this, she would look rough. But because I know that she needs a lot of moisturizing products, has to sleep on a satin pillowcase, and can’t have her hair pulled too tightly into a style, we’ve at least managed to avoid her getting a bald spot (which is a real thing). And if you could see the look on her face when I lift her up and let her look in the mirror after I’ve finished her hair, you would understand why it’s worth it.

As females, we have the desire to be seen as beautiful. And we don’t outgrow it. I enjoy a compliment from my husband today just as much as I liked to spin in my dress and be told I looked pretty when I was five. I don’t want her worth to come from her physical appearance, but I do want her to feel beautiful. I want her to receive compliments the same way her classmates do. I want her to feel cared for and worthy of the time and effort and headache that comes from learning how to take care of her.

I have a love/hate relationship with her hair. I hate how much time it takes and how it hurts my neck and back. But I love learning this new thing and I love when I hear someone compliment her and she smiles and tells them I did it (okay, so maybe I’ve brainwashed her and said “make sure you tell them I did it when someone says they like it!”).

Practically, it forces some bonding time. When I set aside time for her hair, she gets some needed and deserved individual time. It’s the one thing I can do for just her that doesn’t involve or include the others. It is something that is unique to her and says “you aren’t forgotten here.”

From a developmental standpoint, it creates an opportunity for positive and affirming touch. Did you know how important touch is to brain development in children? Babies’ brains form connections with each cuddle and affirming touch and met need. Many kids from traumatic backgrounds never receive that and then they are either so uncomfortable with touch that they are standoffish or they are inappropriate with their touch which causes others to be standoffish or uncomfortable around them. We don’t think about this with biological children that have always lived in our home, because they’ve had hugs and cuddles and kisses their whole life. It’s less natural with children that are not our own and haven’t always lived with us, but it’s no less important. Even when my neck is hurting and I still have a couple of hours to go, I know that I am showing and giving her love in a very practical way when I give her this time.

I can’t change the world and I can’t change her past. But I can fix her hair. I can be a part of the process of a growing brain that is forming new connections. I can help her to feel beautiful. In my busy, “never enough” world, I can spend hours learning and doing little girl hair that will probably only last a couple of weeks since I’m no expert. I can show her that she is worthy of my set-aside time. I can help create a foundation that introduces her mind and her heart to the idea that she has value, that she is beautiful, and that she is loved.