Genesis Rodriguez Talks Hair

Art and Words by Genesis Rodriguez

My whole life, my hair has always been an easy conversation topic for strangers.

“Is that your real hair?”

“I like your curls better”

“How long does it take you to do?”

“Can I touch your hair?”

I never understood the fascination with my texture. My history with my hair is a story of resentment and forgiveness, but to others, my hair is just an opportunity to invade my personal space. I couldn’t tell you how many times my hair has been touched without my permission. From strangers to close family, it never fails to make me feel like an animal in a petting zoo. I think people see textured hair as something similar to the patterned pelt of an exotic animal.

The same way we wear cheetah print, people adorn their heads with the texture of other races.
Every individual has their own personal relationship with their hair. In my instance, it took a very long time for me to understand my hair. Even to this day, I still fight with it as if it were its own living entity.

I remember long nights as a child, crying because my hair wouldn’t lay the way I envisioned. Eyes welling with tears, just wishing I could have easy hair like any other girl. My insecurities blossomed into self-deprecation, I was willing to do anything to just feel beautiful.

After many years, I learned that my natural texture is beautiful. The hair I fought with as a young girl was damaged, fried, and unnatural due to many years of relaxing and straightening. I’ll never forget the day I decided to finally cut it all off. It still wasn’t perfect, but it was natural and it was me. I continued to damage my hair afterwards, I played with chemicals and colors and used my fro to express myself. Thankfully, I grew out of that, and I haven’t added chemicals to my hair in over 3 years, but throughout that journey, a constant that remained was the general public’s fascination with my hair.

One time in middle school, I had just freshly dyed my hair a bright neon orange. I was so happy and felt so free with my fro surrounding my face. It was around Halloween, and as I hopped on the school bus, a younger classmate asked me, “Is that a wig?”. I think that was truly the first time I have ever been left speechless. What type of person would even buy a wig like that? But after some time, I realized what she meant. I remember going home that day and feeling like a literal clown. Here I was, a young free spirit just wanting to try something new, and I was hit with the reality of the media portrayal of my culture. The orange hair didn’t last very long after that.


There obviously is a deeper history to these media portrayals that I am not qualified to speak on, but this artwork is a commentary on the imitation of the human hair texture. I see my texture adorned on the heads of individuals as if it were the pelt of an exotic animal worn for the glorification of a pattern you do not own, a representation of the beauty your money can buy you.


Please do not ask to touch my hair. I am not an animal, I am a human.