My White Privilege is showing.

In my drive to take myself more seriously and present a more professional image so that I will be taken seriously, I came across numerous references to an incident at a law firm. Glamour Magazine editors giving a presentation on “Professional Image” at Cleary Gottleib proclaimed that afros and dreadlocks are not appropriate for the workplace because they are “too political.” In other words, people of African descent are expected to use chemicals on their hair and scalp and spend time & money forcing their hair to look straighter, smoother and, let’s face it, more white, in order to present a professional image in the workplace.

Now, there are very few times when my white privilege is apparent to me. I can’t help it. I’m white, so it never occurred to me that black hair still carried that kind of baggage in the work place and it never occurred to me to think about the ways hair might carry such different meaning for black women than it does for me. A few recent blogs piqued my interest and sparked reflection on my own professional image & hair dilemma.

In some ways I felt like cutting my hair was giving in to a patriarchal, established ideal about how women are supposed to be and look. Pretty women aren’t supposed to be intelligent and capable and they certainly can’t count on being taken seriously in the academic world. I felt like keeping my hair a stance against such sexist bullshit, but you know what? I often wore it up when teaching or presenting a paper – because it wasn’t professional. So I was giving in already. And really, I do want to be taken seriously and a hair cut wasn’t that big a deal for me. It didn’t occur to me that women of different race, cultures or religions might have a different relationship with their hair.

But I’m lucky enough to benefit from white privilege. The black women whose blogs I linked to above don’t have that privilege. Adriel Arocha wasn’t so lucky – and he’s a male kindergartener! My friend Kosher Academic is a modern Orthodox Jew and a Ph.D. student and she’s written a number of posts about her feelings & experience with hair covering, and although I read them, I never really thought about the difference between her experience with her hair and mine or how her religion or religious ideas about her hair might run up against a standard idea of professional image. I mean, it’s not in my daily experience to think about the affects of being an Orthodox Jew on anyone’s academic or professional image. Maybe she’ll find time (between school, marriage and kids – heh) to write a little bit about her experiences in academia as a woman and a Jew. (Hint = request for something I’d like to read on your blog or talk about at Big Professional Conference).

At any rate I don’t know how to express my outrage about the varieties of prejudice against black women (or men, for that matter) wearing their hair in a natural style in a way that isn’t condescending or that doesn’t presume to understand an experience I can simply never have, but I want to try to be more attentive to these kinds of issues in the academic and professional world. People should not be expected to change the natural states of their hair or body and they should be allowed to wear culturally and religiously significant clothes, head coverings and hair without being told it’s unprofessional. I guess the best thing I can do is call attention to the issue and call people on it when they express prejudicial attitudes.

Update: Haircut & Hair Donation

I did it! I cut 10 inches from my hair, leaving it about chin length in a slight a-line bob. I feel great. I really like the cut and I didn’t even cry when the stylist cut it off.  It’s going to be donated to make wigs for people suffering from cancer, alopecia or other hair-loss inducing situations.

10 inches or more can go to Locks of Love. If you don’t have that much or don’t want to cut off that much, 8 inches or more can go to Pantene’s Beautiful Lengths.

The hair needs to be un-color treated, clean, dry and tied in a ponytail or braid. Pack in a zip-top bag and send it off in a padded mailer to one of the organizations above.

So I guess I kind of feel like I sold out, what with the desire to present a more age-appropriate and professional image and by buying in to the idea that long hair isn’t professional – but really, I want to be taken seriously and I want to cultivate or develop my professional image. Also, I wore my hair long since 2001 or 2002, which is the longest time I’ve worn my hair the same length ever AND my hair was the longest length it’s ever been in my life. It felt great to have it long. I felt kind of like Barbie – what with the Rack of Doom and the long blond hair. The first time I went to my stylist “ready to cut it off” I totally chickened out. I felt totally attached to my hair and felt like something bad would happen if I cut it. Like I’d miss it or be unhappy with the cut. I mean, we’re not talking about death and destruction coming as a result of a hair cut (Thank gods I’m not Samson). But I think that attachment to the hair is actually what motivated me to cut it off. I’m a woman, for goodness sake, I don’t need any more unnecessary attachments to my physical appearance. And it will grow back if I don’t like it. It my frakking hair, not an arm, leg, liver or whatever.

Also, as Nick Arrojo says about hair cuts, “It’s not about what you cut off, but what you leave on.”

The next step is to develop a more professional wardrobe and attempt to find appropriate clothes and shoes for my roles as both student and teacher, and my walking/biking modes ot transportation.

P.S. It’s really weird to hold my own braid in my hand when it’s no longer attached to my head. I never realized how long it really was. I might cry yet.

On Professional Image: Clothes & Hair on Campus

Being a graduate student in your mid-twenties to mid-thirties can be a mess of fun, work, stress, laughter, tears, despair, uncertainty and confusion – and I don’t mean just about whether or not one actually wants to finish a PhD or should do so. No. I mean having to explain to friends and family that you are no longer “in college,” that “summer vacation” doesn’t really apply to graduate students, and that graduate school is like a job or at least like professional training and development. I mean managing your self-perception and the way others perceive you.

Am I a student? Am I a teacher? I struggle with the baggage associated with both of those words. I’m not “just a student” and I’ll be damned if I want to associate myself with the state of being an undergraduate ever again. It was rough enough the first time and graduate school is a whole new game – it’s not like college only harder. You’re playing a totally different game, with new rules and expectations, but you don’t always get the kind of direction or supervision that would make the transition easier in your first year or two. In my current department, there’s a sense that some of the faculty don’t really take us seriously as scholars or colleagues – in ways I’d rather not go into at the moment, perhaps for identification reasons, but also because I really do think that my department is pretty great in a lot of ways and I’d rather not introduce my department with an exposé of everything I personally think could be better. My department is very supportive and fairly collegial, so I don’t really have much to complain about.

At any rate, graduate school in the humanities is in some sense never done. There’s always something I could be reading or a language I could be learning or a lesson I could be planning and there’s a sense of pressure to work all the time. But limits on and boundaries between personal and professional lives is the topic of a different posting.

The real question here is: How does one establish an appropriate professional image? At Beach University I have students who come to class in pajama pants, flip flops, bathing suits with a tank top thrown on over top, and various levels of exposed tits and ass (boobie shirts and miniskirts, etc). I have colleagues and classmates who teach lectures or sections in shorts and t-shirts (one of whom I fondly refer to as “The Dude”). We have faculty who teach in jeans – but not t-shirts. Lastly, I often walk or bike to school and sit in chairs around campus that are filthy or broken and could dirty, stain or actually damage my clothes.

Clearly, at Beach University in my department, suits and the like are rarely required. I try to aim somewhere between “business casual” and jeans and t-shirts. Sometimes shoes make all the difference and since I walk or bike, I really like to wear sneakers, but they don’t exactly led a professional tone to an outfit! I try to be particularly careful of my “professional” image on days I’m teaching or attending a seminar and I feel less concerned about that on days when I have a language class or when I’m just working in the library. I guess part of the way I delineate between my personal and professional life is by what I’m wearing – which only kind of works, since I’m not likely to get dressed up in order to chase references in the library.

I’ve found that I’m interested in the idea of a dress code for the university – with the idea that it would be good for everyone (undergrads, grads, faculty, admin) if students dressed for school like they mean business, like they take it seriously, like they’re learning useful skills. I don’t want to ban jeans or something, but there are levels of jeans. They can be paired with tops less casual than a “message t-shirt” and actual shoes that aren’t ratty sneakers or flip flops. My mama taught me that the way we dress reflects our respect for the places we’re going, and our respect for and relationships with the people we’ll see in the day. I now get what my mama meant when she told me to “Dress appropriately!”

And I struggle with what that means in the liminal state between student and professional that marks the graduate student years, and I wish my students and colleagues would dress appropriately when they come to class.

Right now I’m struggling with the hair question – which is tied up in all kinds of feminist issues for me. There’s a sense that women aren’t taken seriously if they’re either too beautiful or not beautiful enough, and hair it part of that – think of all the comments about Hillary Clinton, Michelle Obama and Sarah Palin that relate their looks to their abilities.

I have long blonde hair. Is it professional to wear it down? I often feel obliged to wear it up when I teach – between the hair and the Rack of Doom I don’t need extra attention on my physical appearance. I wouldn’t dream of wearing it down at Big Professional Conference. Old Men in Tweed can’t seem to take a young, pretty woman seriously. Also, I’m growing out some bangs, so I’m in this in-between phase that will last the better part of a year since my hair is so long AND I’ve been watching What Not to Wear even though the feminist in me can’t STAND it.

As a result, I feel like my long hair isn’t very professional and like it’s making me look a lot younger than I am. I think it’s time to clean up my look – clothes & hair together – to look more professional and age-appropriate. SO, I’m thinking about cutting my hair. Like a lot. A lot. I’ve done it before. I wore my hair a lot shorter when I was in high school and through part of college, so I shouldn’t feel as afraid as I am now. It’ll grow back. I know it will be cute – my hairstylist is AWESOME. For some reason, though, I am terrified of cutting it off. I’ve worn it long for the past 6 or 7 years and I think that’s the longest time I’ve ever worn the same style.

Also, cutting my hair to be taken seriously seems like a cop out. The feminist in me wants to hold on to the hair as a stance against the Old Men in Tweed, against the idea that pretty women can’t be smart & professional, against the idea that there’s something wrong with my hair.

On the other hand, I’ve been wearing it up so often lately that I’ve begun to wonder if I really even like it any more.

Oh, and did I mention that I have a hair appointment in about an hour?!!

Check back soon to see what happened (last time I chickened out and didn’t cut it).