My Mom, My Hair And Me

OUR HAIR IS SO MUCH MORE than merely how it’s perceived by the outside world – it’s our ARMOUR, our FEMININITY, our HERITAGE and, undoubtedly, something we’ve fought about with our mothers. Lynette Botha speaks to THREE WOMEN about their relationship with their hair (and their moms)

- Lynette Botha

The phrase ‘a woman’s hair is her crowning glory’ may have biblical roots, but it’s a universal truth. From the story of Rapunzel’s long, golden locks cascading down the tower to our moms’ resounding words of ‘come, let me brush your hair; girls are not supposed to look messy’, we have been conditioned to feel that our hair is intrinsically linked to our femininity and desirability since childhood. And that’s where our tumultuous relationship with our hair begins: influenced by the opinions of our mothers.

Roxy Jurgens Pitts can relate to this all too well. ‘When I was growing up, I would not let my mother touch my hair. She had to resort to sneakily walking past me to get a brush through it as she went by. She was always trying to make me a bit more “feminine” and “pretty”, and before leaving the house it was the same old fight: “Please Roxy, I beg of you, just brush your hair!” But I have always been a bit feral when it comes to my hair; making it look cute and presentable was not my vibe. I started using my hair as a means to rebel against my mom too, because I could.’

‘My mom took our haircare routine very seriously when we were younger,’ says Ncumisa Makhonjwa. ‘Every Sunday, my sister and I would have our hair washed and plaited. This wasn’t my favourite part of the weekend. I actually dreaded it. Not only did Sundays signify the looming Monday ahead, but they also meant I spent about an hour getting my hair pulled, tugged and twisted in all directions. By the time I turned 12, I pleaded with my mom to consider letting me go to school with my hair tied up instead. This took a bit of convincing but she eventually allowed it. And that was the end of our Sunday hair ritual.