For most Black women, wearing a bonnet to sleep is as routine as moisturizing your face before bed. You don't HAVE to do it, but it does protect your hair, especially if it's prone to damage, so it's an essential part of most women's beauty routines.
However, bonnets are mostly restricted to the home, and it's often viewed as a major taboo in the Black community to wear it out, especially to work. However, I like a challenge, so I decided to take my beloved bonnet with me wherever I went for A FULL DAY. Pray for me, fam.
When I mentioned the idea of wearing a bonnet to work to my mom, she instantly said, "NO."
But I know my mother was saying that simply to protect me. It's been instilled in me ever since a young age to always look presentable (and yes, that extends to quick runs to Walmart). People judge others by their appearance, and frankly, that's magnified 10x as a Black woman.
Plus, the way Black women wear their hair has long been a highly politicized topic. From natural hair in the military to braids in retail, Black women have had an uphill battle to get their tresses to be treated and viewed equally, especially in the workplace.
When I first put on the bonnet in the morning, I had a small panic attack.
Many thoughts ran through my mind: What if people treat me differently? What if they couldn't see past my bonnet? What if it flew off and then I had to run down the street to find it and I became an overnight viral sensation?
But once I stepped out my door, I felt fearless. I walked to the train and my fellow New Yorkers frankly didn't give a damn. I guess they've seen crazier things on these unconventional streets. Plus, the added warmth on my head was pretty nice!
However, when I finally got to the door of my office building, I suddenly froze. What if I walked by high-ranking executives and I instinctively threw my bonnet across the room?
As someone who was used to being one of the few Black faces in a room growing up, I thought it wouldn't be *too* difficult* to wear a bonnet to work, but I was wrong. As THE ONLY Black woman wearing a bonnet in the office, I felt like there was an unofficial spotlight on me every time I walked to get coffee, to a meeting, or heck, even to the bathroom.
But the reality is that no one treated me differently. No one gawked or whispered, and I was still acknowledged in meetings. Of course, I work in a more creative space as a fashion journalist, but still.
The only time I got reactions and stares was when I actually left the office.
When I went to get lunch, a young— and cute — Black guy working at a nearby salad place asked, "Did you just get your hair done?" Clearly he was just trying to make conversation, but I just replied, "something like that," and left. I didn't think it was the right moment to tell him he was witnessing a one-woman sociological experiment.
When I went to get dinner with a friend at a swanky restaurant, one diner WOULD NOT STOP STARING.
My nerves increased once I sat down at the restaurant. I was mentally prepared for them to tell me that they had a dress code and that I couldn't be seated, but thankfully, that didn't happen, and we still experienced excellent service
It was only when another set of diners ate near us that I could feel a set of eyes basically BURNING A HOLE IN MY BONNET. I felt incredibly self-conscious and it was hard for me to enjoy my mac and cheese bowl because the lady wouldn't stop staring.
I thought, "Maybe she's jealous of my bonnet? Maybe she wants to know where I bought it so she can pick one up too?" Of course the worst possible thought kept intruding, too: "Maybe she doesn't like being seated near a Black person, ESPECIALLY one in a bonnet?"
At that moment, I wasn't sure what I should do.
Should I get up and say something (and instantly be stereotyped as an "angry Black woman") or be quiet and feel uncomfortable for the rest of my meal? I took the latter option — I suddenly felt like my opinion was invalidated by wearing the bonnet. I felt like I had placed myself in that position, rather than realizing that my self-worth doesn't come from whatever is on my head. If I could go back and do things differently, I definitely would've said something.
Final thoughts: Wearing a bonnet in mostly white spaces as a Black woman helped me confront my internalized fears.
After years of wearing my hair in styles to be seen as more "presentable" or "professional" in mostly non-Black spaces, I realize how I wear my hair shouldn't have to symbolize my work ethic.
At the same time, I recognize that I work in an environment where more trendy hairstyles and manners of dress are accepted, so it would be a very different experience for another Black woman in another office.
Most of all, I hope my exercise has shown how the practice of reducing Black women to what's on their heads needs to stop. Regardless of how we wear our hair, the world will keep spinning, and we will keep slaying.
