Congress Passes the Crown Act Banning Hair Discrimination

By Janet Grace

Back in the 60’s, my hair was so wild, my mom; calling it “that tornado on your head, ” tied a knot on one end of her nylon stockings, and I was made to wear it as a night cap to tame my unruly curls. It didn’t matter much. Once the first recess bell rang, and I got to running around, those curls would jump right back up like cheerleaders and stay up, proudly. She coined me as having “bad” hair and my sister as having “good ” hair. We both had curls and could not see the difference. It left me feeling self conscious by the time I got to day care. I was told I’d have to learn to make my curls behave before I knew my ABC’s. In a society where straight hair was “good” and curly was “bad”, I learned early on to Uber groom so I could blend in, like good makeup. Crazy, right?

In our Harlem hood, nylon caps were all over, everywhere but in church, where a hat and matching gloves took charge and the belief that God won’t judge me but the neighbors surely would, was the first hymn sung. This week, Congress passed a law in which no longer can anyone, at any time tell we natural curly and kinky haired folks that we need to “skip the doo n get a life.” That’s a quote from a salesman I worked with who breathed it under his breath at the ‘huffy-tuffy-crème-puffy’ clients. It’s about time. I, for one, cannot be happier. No longer will children have to go through that nonsense or grow up feeling any less than anyone else, based on how the wind blows or their hair grows. No longer can corporations or individuals responsible for hiring their employees, discriminate against those sitting before them based on their hair. This is awesome. Next, do tats, please. What may perhaps, seem insignificant, is actually a MAJOR victory for Human and Civil Rights.

I worked on Wall Street for quite a long stretch where fashion is everything. You had to be on-pointe and en gardé at all times and hair was a make it or break it élément in the facade. It did not matter how intelligent, experienced or perfect you were for a position. If your “do” screamed: “Say it loud, I’m black and I’m proud”, you would not be welcomed. Some POC discriminated against their own people instead of standing together, tall and proud. You had better believe this is a game changer. There was a day in our Wall Street world, that the Temp Agency sent over a woman with braids like Whoopi, who’s been rocking her braids since the early 80’s when she had a one woman show on Broadway. One of the team leaders, a racist of grand proportions, turned to me and said: “Oh, no! Look at the trash they sent. That’s not going to fly. The men will not like that.” Not realizing that: A.1.: She was speaking to someone who found similarity and alignment with all people, especially POC, Spanish-Jewish-Portuguese-French, as we’re everywhere and it took many nations of love to make us. To me, they’re my blood. B.2.: The woman in question fit right in with my multicultural family. She could’ve been a cousin, so, I already adored that woman standing by the door for her beautiful shell-adorned hair style and just because of that statement, I made damned sure she succeeded and held her position long after the troll was let go for views other than what the company followed. Thank you, Ken Chenault, the first black CEO for the company. You’re welcome. I kept quiet, gathered evidence and had the first smart phone, a Palm Treo, which recorded every filthy word that the racist spoke anywhere near me. When I hit the jackpot, I went into the giant bosses office and played it for her. That was it for her. Ironically, this was the same boss who had hired a special team leader to record certain calls to ensure that everyone was following protocol, a.k.a. find something on these people so I can disguise the fact that I want them out because they don’t have straight blonde hair. I was on that list. This woman asked me on my second day at the new job if I was sure that my last name was Grace and not really Garcia. I know! Who does that?

On that day, my gaze followed hers to the entrance door where the woman in braids stood, waiting to be seated. The “men” that the racist spoke of, were the old white boys club who never came down to our floor at 30 Wall. As for the racist TL, a time came when she finally got hers, and was made to step aside, but she wasn’t the only one to blame.

That was the 90’s. You did not see one afro over half an inch or any natural hair style ever, in the business or corporate scene, and if you were any kind of gay, bi or they couldn’t figure your preference out, you were ostracized and eventually found to have anything they could make “stick”, to your file regarding your performance to have you removed from your place of employment. Then, I walked in, and placed an eight by ten glossy of my lover, who I married in 1998, and our two children on my desk with a tiny rainbow flag sticking out of my pen holder. When asked, I told the truth about who they were. People’s response was to laugh nervously and call me “such a kidder” because it was obvious to them that a feminine woman in a lovely, hand-stitched suit with matching stilettos, purse, gloves, hat and scarf could never be anything but straight and republican. Yeah, about that. My mother was a designer and seamstress and all I had to do was show her a picture of the latest Italian, Parisienne styles for her to whip up something similar, but better, and hand stitched to boot, in a weekend, all original and you’ll never find it at Saks or Bloomies.

There were no beards or mustaches on men either, and forget about tats. You wouldn’t even get an interview if your tats, natural hair, facial hair or melanin were showing. The “Crown” in Crown Act is an acronym for Creating a Respectful and Open World for Natural Hair. It prohibits anyone and everyone in this republic from discriminating natural hair or the various styles worn. The act states: “discrimination based on an individual’s texture or style of hair.” Many thanks to the Democrats as well as the not-so-crazy fourteen Republicans who signed it. Of course the Jim Jordan’s and Overly grotesque others had to do whatever they could to harm as many as they could, so they did not sign it. We see you racists, and we shall fix that at the voting polls.
For today, we celebrate and dance to the music letting our hair flow as the wind blows.

Keep it real, people.
Peace, Out.
JG )O(