In March 2024, the National Assembly, one of the highest institutions of French legislative power, adopted the proposition of a law against hair discrimination at the workplace. The text wishes to add to the list of discriminations liable to penal sanctions those relating to "the cut, colour, length or texture of hair.” Although the proposition included other types of hair discrimination, the bill clearly demonstrates a particular focus on black women. Ethnic surveys being forbidden in France, they rely on an American study stating that a quarter of all Black women polled said that they had been ruled out for jobs because of how they wore their hair to a job interview[1].

Sadly, examples of ordinary racism beyond the workplace are still commonplace in France, impacting individuals like Aline, a 43-year-old black French hairstylist specialized in frizzy and curly hair. She realized her blackness at age 7, remembering thinking at the time: “My skin colour is okay, but my hair… it’s not possible, I have to do something.”[2]Many Black women resort to chemical treatments to straighten their hair from a young age, with long-term consequences on the scalp including burns and hair loss. This can also impact bodily health as a whole: some products have been proven to cause cancer or enhance puberty.[3]

The bill against hair discrimination is justified by three points: improving job market access, tackling public health issues, and addressing questions of self-esteem. This last point inspires my reflection. My analysis draws upon  a larger discussion on racism, colonialism, and Eurocentrism. I aim to draw attention to the structural pressures Black French women face regarding their hair within this post-colonial context, while underlining important aspects linked to the construction of black French feminine identities: colorism[4], latent racism based on physical features, the internalization of Europeanized white-centric beauty standards and the relevance of hair in this instance.

Colonial history of France and the construction of the "French" Race:

France bears the legacy of its history of slavery and colonisation. The first French colonial empire, mainly in the Americas, the Caribbean and Asia, lasted until 1814. The conquest of Algier in 1830 demonstrated the desire to rebuild a new empire, which was achieved mostly after 1850 in Africa, Indochina and the South Pacific. Decolonisation movements emerged from 1945 onwards and led most of them to independence. Some of these territories, however, still have a strong link to France, particularly the DROM-COM.[5]

Migration patterns between the metropolis, oversea territories and former colonies have resulted in a “multiplicity and flexibility of histories, identities, and cultures”[6] in metropolitan France. While populations in overseas territories have been socialised as French through the acquisition of full citizenship rights, their “Frenchness” was often questioned upon their arrival in the metropolis. Paulette Nardal, important contributor to the Negritude movement, wrote in 1930: 

This quote still echoes to Black people in France today, who often mention their impression of feeling like outsiders. Fatou Ndiaye, one of the most prominent Black French influencers, stated in 2019: “Ethnic people are the others, and the rest represents the normality.”[8]

Discussions on the nation and its constituency have touched questions of racial belonging, France’s relationship to its colonial empire and the rest of Europe, and how these connections influenced national anxieties around depopulation and degeneration. They often focused on the body[9]. Questions of national identity became deeply tied to ideas about race, colonialism, and societal norms. These debates had practical implications for policies and public attitudes toward immigrants, shaping the evolving concept of French identity (note the use of the singular), whose repercussions are still visible today. A friction persists between a vision of France as the white mainland - promoted by far-right movements - and more inclusive visions pushing against discrimination.

Beauty Standards and the Pressure on Women

France’s complex colonial history and politics of race have deeply shaped beauty standards. As a strong link between femininity and beauty endures, women especially are compelled to adhere to certain standards[10], often associated with Western ideals. In France, as in the US, this ideal is partly represented by straight hair, whereas “curly hair [and thus Black women’s hair] reflects a flaw that deviates from [it]”[11]. This pressure is three  dimensional:[12] society labels Black women's hair as “unprofessional” or “ugly,” communities and families may reinforce this, and Black women might impose pressure on themselves to fit into Western standards.[13] To some women, fitting conventional standards feels empowering.[14] To some others, on the contrary, breaking the norms – symbolically challenging the system oppressing their bodies for decades – revives a strong sentiment of power. 

Visibility as a tool for recognition

Black hairstyling carries a powerful past: it was “an integral part of ritual, constituting a visual form of language in oral societies”[15]. Wearing natural hair or passing down traditions of hairstyling is a way to re-attribute a certain value to indigenous knowledge and to challenge colonial legacies.[16]As hair is one of the most visible parts of the body and subject to many debates, it has been used as a political statement by many Black people around the world. The most powerful example is the Natural Hair Movement, which emerged in the US. Throughout the 1960s and 1970s, “natural hair became the new norm and straightened hair became a symbol of racial shame. Unprecedented numbers of black women refused to straighten their hair.”[17] France saw this movement rise in the 2000s, under the name Mouvement Nappy[18]. Numbers of black people started “imposing [their natural hair] in the public space, where it remain[ed] undesirable”[19]. This civil right movement promoted hair as a political tool, and partly reversed norms of what was considered beautiful in the society and by women themselves,[20] empowering both individuals and the broader Black communities.[21]

The repercussions of this movement are still visible today: social media has become a powerful tool for visibility, where Black influencers continuously fight for the inclusion of Black people in beauty or fashion campaigns. YouTube channels such as Décolonisez vos cheveux[22] aim to provide tips to “[reinvent] a standard of beauty... that's yours!”[23]. The podcast Kiffe Ta Race [24] is also part of this broader movement seeking to encourage black women to "cultivate their difference and individuality.”[25] As Fatou Ndiaye, Black beauty activist, explained, “in addition to sharing beauty tips and advice, [her] job was to deconstruct a whole discourse that even Black people had internalized.”[26]

Conclusion

This essay highlights the significance of Black French women's hair as a symbol of colonial and decolonial history. The recent passing of anti-hair discrimination legislation[27] in the workplace underscores persisting latent racism in contemporary French society and reflects the legacy of the nappy movement, emphasizing the power of visibility. The wearing of natural or braided hair indeed portrays a means of emancipation, as is argued by various activists aiming to restore Black women's self-esteem. We must however acknowledge that some Black women feel empowered when conforming to other beauty standards. There might not be one sole answer for those seeking to navigate the complex politics of hair.

The impact of this movement and visibility must also be considered given fashion's inherent instability: individuals may rely on “other sources of power and status unrelated to appearance.”[28] While the acknowledgment of hair discrimination reflects French national institutions' stance against racism, these measures need to be coupled with other structural changes.