Why the Gina Curl is Problematic: Texturism and Curlfishing in Black Hair
Gina Curls aid in perpetuating our new beauty standard: White is no longer the standard of desirability or beauty; it is White-adjacent or racially ambiguous.
If you’re here from my last Blog post…welcome back! Nice to see you again. If this is your first encounter, you may want to peruse this post first, just for context. (Click here and then come back :-)
Where we last met, we were discussing my complicated relationship with my/our Baby Hairs Heritage and deciding whether Black women’s obsession with them is cultural homage, or conforming hypocrisy. (Can I be Black and proud if my edges scream England my bun screams Burundi? You get it.)
The Rise of the Gina Curl
After remembering my experience with that young chap from Miami, (again, see previous post), some other thoughts began to chorale. As an avid consumer of all things hair on Youtube, I’ve been seeing a rise in three new things pop up on my screen: 1) Keratin treatments, 2) Naturals going back to relaxers/tex-laxing, and 3) The Jheri Curl *cough cough* I mean the Gina Curl. And they all have something in common: the desire to loosen or change curl patterns.
True, relaxers are meant to straighten hair. And there are quite a few former-naturals that I’ve seen embrace them in all their straightness. They don’t want to see a kink or kank in sight. But the majority of these women are intentionally underprocessing hair to maintain texture or to simply loosen the curl pattern (a la tex-laxing) to make straightening hair easier and longer-lasting. Keratin treatments provide a temporary bond to the hair, allowing it to appear less frizzy and less curly or coily so that once straightened, it can remain straight without fear of humidity or the need to continue to add additional heat daily. Like relaxers, Keratin treatments are a chemical, but unlike relaxers, they are not permanent. Now I have singled these two out first because they are most familiar to me, and generally, I don’t believe that the women who get these treatments desire for their hair to appear to be a looser curl or coil. In fact, most of the women that I see get these treatments primarily wear their hair straight and are looking for ways to maintain straight styles longer while maintaining the health of their hair and keeping the body of the hair full.
And kudos to them.
(Honorable mention goes to texturizers. There are some women who use texturizers to loosen curl patterns.(namely on women with short pixie-cuts), but because this falls under the umbrella of tex-laxing, I didn’t think it necessary to make it a separate category).
But the Gina curl…Yikes.
Click on this link for Gina Curl's official explanation of this service
Click here to see the instagram handle of Gina, the salon owner, head stylist, and “innovator” of this service, but below are a few pictures of her before and afters, for your convenience.
All images from @ginacurl_hairstalent
What is the “Gina Curl?”
In summation, it’s a curly perm for Black women. It reshapes tight kinks and coils into curls, and YOU choose the size of your curl based on color-coded rollers. You can go into a salon that offers this service as a 4C natural and exit it as a 3c, or even a 3b…and it’s PERMANENT. Once or twice a year, you get a touch up. It’s very similar to an old school Jheri curl, except this chemical service was created by a White woman named Gina and it won’t mess up your Grandma’s furniture (no activator is needed). It’s also virtually unclockable.
Now, you may be thinking, “Why she gotta be White? Why is that important?” Well, because she is, and it is. If you scroll through her Instagram feed, WE ARE HER MAIN CLIENTS. You only see Black women with type 4 hair sitting in her chair (with a very few exceptions). It is only US that want to change our curl pattern. And it’s disheartening to witness, especially as a Black woman who has fought for years to accept that my own kinks aren’t shiny or silky, nor are they completely curly. And they’ll never be loose. They are spongey, hard to define, fine, and frizzy. But they’re mine!
I am also aware that the creator of the Jheri Curl was created by a White man. But keep reading to see why the Gina Curl is so much more troubling than the Jheri Curl of our grandma’s couches.
Why the Gina Curl is troubling
I’ve often considered why is it that my reaction to this is so much more visceral to that of a Black woman getting a perm or a Jheri Curl. After all, most relaxers are owned and sold by companies owned by old White men.
Fair point.
Here’s where this ties back to my Baby Hair Brigade post; when Black women get relaxers, they aren’t trying to change their curl pattern; they want to eliminate it. And we understand that the majority of Black women who get relaxers have type 4 hair that simply prefer to wear their hair straight. Emma Dabiri in her book Don’t Touch My Hair refers to relaxers as “the great leveler” because you “can’t really see what anyone’s real hair texture was”…(at least until the newgrowth comes in). But with a Gina Curl, essentially, it is possible to play into the exoticism and fetishism tropes that having “good hair” supports and sustains. In other words, you can play in mixed/biracial waters, or at least until it’s time for a touch up. There is no “tell” of greasy, shiny activator spray that is a dead giveaway that you have a Jheri Curl. The Gina Curl looks completely natural.
It’s Curlfishing.
Images of Virgin Relaxers on Natural Hair
Urban Dictionary defines Curlfishing as, “The act of wearing non-natural curls, including wigs, weave, extensions or perms, and pretending the curls are natural. “ I would expand this definition to include Keratin treatments, and texturizers/tex-laxers as well. And I would further add that pretending can also mean lying through omission or silence.
Curly Hair Fetish is Real
Why do I care?
Men who already have self-hating dating “preferences” and who exoticise “otherness” will see Black women who appear to have type 2 or 3 wavy/curly hair and will treat them accordingly. And it would be false pedestalization.
How do I know this? My law school example from Part One is not the only time I’ve experienced this. I’ve intentionally played around with my dating profile pictures just to see this in action.
Now, I have type 4 hair…(mainly 4a with some 3c mixed in). But because my hair is so fine, if I want to, I can lay my hair in such a way that it appears to be much looser and slicker than it really is. When I post pictures of my hair this way, or with my Baby Hairs styled, and my curls defined, the type of men that like my profile changes. If I’m being perfectly honest, I always have quite a few White men that click, but the amount of likes and the physical description of the likers increases and darkens. Also, the income brackets of the Black men that like my page goes up.
And that’s real. Because the curly hair fetish is real.
On rare occasions when I wear Wash-n-Gos…
My preferred hairstyle: stretched and fluffy rod-sets or braid-outs where my kinky texture can shine…
And if I was willing to commit to this Baby Hair or Gina-fied 3c-life full-time, I’d have more men to choose from. (That is, until I need a touch-up or have a baby. Odds are…my children would have kinky hair like me, not curly hair like Gina.)
It’s a lie. And I just wonder how many women are actually participating in filling Ms. Gina’s trust fund under the guise of more manageability, with the real intentions of more marketability to men or to society. (Let me also add here that I find it interesting that so many Black women will complain about Black stylists charging high prices for skilled work but have no problem giving a cool thousand to Miss Gina…but I digress…).
It is true that maybe many women have a mixture of both desires/needs, and I can’t judge them for that. No one ever said having natural KINKY hair was easy. It isn’t. It takes a great deal of time. And to that point, I would offer two points for your consideration: 1) re-evaluate what “too much time” really means and 2) remember your ancestors.
The Culture of Haircare in Africa- Time as Capitalistic Concept
I would HIGHLY SUGGEST reading her full book for context, but in summation, Dabiri notes that the commodification of time as we know it is a very Western concept fueled by capitalism and colonialism. Prior to enslavement and colonialism, the time it took to do ones hair was simply the time it took to do ones hair. Hair was communal; it was expected for men and women to spend great time and effort on hair because the style and cleanliness of it was important for worship, for sexual attraction in relationships, and to communicate social status. Hair was simply part of the day. When Europeans came to Africa with a “time equals money,” world view, they viewed African concepts of time as laziness and “idleness.” One source from a British traveler states, “The idle husbands put [their wives] upon braiding, and fettishing out their wooly hair (in which sort of ornament they are prodigious proud and curious), keeping them every day, for many hours together, at it.” This quote is rather revealing in that in just these few sentences we learn 1) the patronizing ignorance of Europeans assuming that time not working was wasted, 2) the expectation from men that their wives would spend a great amount of time on their beauty and take pride in it, and 3) the time it took was a non-factor. (I also find it rather strange that while some White observers described Black people as idle, in 1691, Portuguese ship captain Lourenco Pinto remarked about this same region: “Great Benin, where the king resides, is larger than Lisbon; all the streets run straight and as far as the eye can see, The houses are large, especially that of the king, which is richly decorated and has fine columns. The city is wealthy and industrious. It is so well governed that theft is unknown and the people live in such security that they have no doors to their houses.” Curious how industrious idle men can be, huh?)
Women across Africa participating in communal hair care
I write all of this to say, rethink how you view “wasted” time and what you have time for. If caring for your natural hair takes time, then plan for it, and make it meaningful. Usually, I listen to podcasts or audiobooks, or I try to watch things that will enhance me or make me think. I search for spirit in new music or surround myself with warm comforts of old. I eat good. I enjoy my time without viewing it as a commodity to be gained or lost; it just is. And I have long ago abandoned the notion that always wearing my real hair makes me more or less superior to women that don’t. That is garbage. Extensions, additives, and wigs have ALWAYS been a part of our hair. We have historical accounts of women and men braiding animal hair into their own to preserve styles, of using clay as protective barrier, of wrapping hair with thread and rope to stretch it and protect it, and of perfecting the art of wig making to the point that Europe adapted wigs as a part of normal life as well. In my opinion, a great deal of stress comes for women under the misguided belief that hair takes so much time because they have to wear their real hair exclusively.
This could really be a whole other post in itself.
Longterm Implications of Curlfishing
For those that decide that getting a Gina Curl is a worthwhile investment (because Chile…the prices!) I wonder what the long-term implications are for those that notice better treatment with looser curl patterns that take them less time to do. Could you ever go back and be happy with yourself and your kinky hair? What happens when the man you’ve been dating begins to see that your new growth is not a silky curl? What do you do when he treats your differently? How does that make your feel about yourself? Does any of this matter?
More and more I am seeing phenotypically Black women being positively represented in media. I’m seeing commercials with Black women wearing kinky fros proudly. I’m seeing more children’s books celebrating kinky, “nappy” hair. I’m seeing Black girls rockin’ fros and twist-outs to prom and television/streaming services taking note and portraying more diverse Black characters with natural styles. More and more I’m finding Black women who are growing into their own unique beauty and that are finding men that celebrate that about them. I walk up and down the hallways of the high school where I teach, and while I do see more wigs than I would like to on children, I see just as many puffs. These girls are normalizing their own hair and I love it, because I was never that brave in high school. Although I had natural hair, it was always pressed out or slicked back. And it all gives me so much hope for our girls…until I see that damn Gina Curl.
Cover of one of many children’s books about Black Hair; Issa Rae intentionally displays Black hair in many ways throughout “Insecure.”
Natural hair on display in a Clearblue commercial
It is Not Necessarily What You Do to Your Hair, but Why You Do It
So, what now? After so much self-reflection, what can be done? Can I style my baby hair without guilt? Is every woman that gets a Gina Curl self-hating? Is a woman that gets a relaxer somehow better than one that gets a Gina Curl? Awareness is what I’m advocating for. Be conscious of not just how you do your baby hairs, but why you do them. Is it necessary to try to change the texture of your Baby Hairs, or can you just accentuate your art working with your texture? When you get your hair braided, why is it necessary for your edges to be laid? If you choose to change your curl pattern, own up to your subconscious or conscious desire to “other” yourself. Is this really about manageability or being able to emerge mermaid-style from the pool with silky curls? By trying to gain time or privilege do we lose a little of ourselves and our heritage? And are we ok with that? Because if we’re really being honest, our hair is manageable if we style it in accordance with our ancestors. But those styles largely aren’t considered conventionally attractive in the West. And we need to own that. Be accountable to your B.S. and your social conditioning.
Personally, this is why I’ve chosen not to consistently style my Baby Hair (and honestly, these days if I do, it’s only because my five-head is looking extra fivish that day), because truth be told, I’m aware that FOR ME, it is not about appearing to be “polished.” And if I’m being candid, I can admit that my former reasons for baby-hairing had nothing to do with “culture”; they were all about “proving” that I had the type of hair that could “straighten up and fly right” if I wanted it do, that would coil into perfect curls to show that yes, my hair might be nappy, but not THAT nappy. And I’m disgusted by it now. I had to reclaim my appreciation for who and what I am before I could ever consider even glancing at my forlorn jar of Eco-Styler Gel. I never again want my view of myself to be dependent on appearing to be anything other than what I am. That is why I wear my natural hair and any weaves I wear never look like anything but by natural hair; I don’t want to curlfish. While dating, I want no false pretenses, and I’d rather weed out colorists, the “preference patrol,” fetish-ists, and texturists before we even click “like.”
At the end of the day, hair style is a choice, but choices are sometimes an unspoken language in themselves. taught by society and nuanced by culture. We communicate with our actions, and while one and God do make a majority (shoutout to Frederick Douglass), how others perceive the God in you matters too. And when all people see is Black women seeking silky swoops or sitting in Gina’s chair chasing looser curls, it is hard for others not to question God’s hand in our creation when it looks like we do it daily.
Sometimes, I just sit and think to myself that when people claim “it’s cultural,” I get that same sinking skin-crawling discomfort that I feel when someone tries to convince me that exclusively dating out is “just a preference” they can’t be condemned for having.
Just because it’s “For the Culture,” doesn’t mean it “For the Collective” or “For the Good.”
Finally, I do anticipate some interpreting these thoughts as a sweeping judgment of women for making different style choices than I do. “It’s not your place to pontificate on another woman’s choice!” you might say to me. Or maybe you’d proffer that this is a slippery slope and many of the same arguments could be applied to plastic surgery, makeup, waist trainers, or anything that gives an illusion of something we don’t naturally have. And to that I would say: hair is different. Like I penned in part one of this essay, our hair is the ONLY indicator that is exclusively Black. Other races have wide noses or dark skin, some others have large hips and lips. And while these things are prevalent in the diaspora and heavily associated with us, Black hair will always be exclusive to us. Because “good hair” can cover a multitude of other sins, but bad hair is unforgivable.
And that’s why I think about it, write about it, and advocate for it. Maybe we aren’t responsible for our history, but we are accountable for it.
So call it culture…creativity. Call it manageability. Whatever. Just be aware that regardless, no matter how much edge control you use, or how wet-n-wavy your wash-n-go becomes, you can’t catfish or curlfish yourself.
“Just because it’s “For the Culture,” doesn’t mean it “For the Collective” or “For the Good.””
“Rock that groovy dye dashiki, Nefertiti, edges kinky…”~Beyoncé
Sources used or recommended:
FTC Disclosure: (Let’s keep things legal and laughing, shall we?) Trust that I only recommend products I use myself or would use myself, books that I own, have read, recommend, and cite. You don’t trust me you say? Well screw it….let’s be honest then. All opinions expressed here are NOT my own because I’m being paid hella green to write these long-ass articles, and read hundreds of books to espouse opinions I don’t even agree with ON TOP OF fulfilling the obligations of a full-time high-school teacher and part-time college professor.
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