Don't Tame Your Mane

In talking about embracing her wild hair, Madhushree Ghosh spotlights a cultural shift in beauty perceptions

My childhood photos are of me staring directly at the camera or into space, my curls framing my face. Baba was a fan of my curls, and our photos are of him proudly holding his curly-haired youngest child in his arms. During a visit to Kolkata, my mother instructed the neighbourhood barber to shave my head when I was three. A traditional tonsure ceremony among Hindus is a ritual to begin anew with hair uniquely yours. Ma's decision was likely because it was a hot summer and had nothing to do with religion. Baba, not consulted by Ma, was rightfully incensed to see his youngest with no curls and no hair. There were arguments about why, how dare anyone, and how cruel. Yet another Ghosh family joke. Except, the joke was that the hair grew back-thick, straight, and strong. I'd lost my curls. Over the years, I grew my hair long. Frankly, I forgot my curls, reminded only when we occasionally pulled out the family album.

Living outside India for many years now, I'm uncomfortably familiar with how our South Asian skin and hair are exoticised. "You Indians are so beautiful: such gorgeous eyes, amazing hair." Beautiful hair is code for straight, long, jet-black hair.