Black Girl Magic

CATCHA A FIRE

I remember my first day of high school like it was yesterday. Overwhelmed doesn’t even begin to cover it. Now, I had already gone to a predominantly white school before this, so I was used to that environment. High school was actually a diverse mixture of Black, White, and Hispanic students. But what gave me absolute whiplash was something else entirely. I had never seen so many Black girls with long hair all in one place. I know that sounds crazy to some, but it’s my truth-and sometimes truth is more interesting than fiction.

LUNCH LINE

As I stood in the lunch line, squeezed into a cramped hallway waiting for the opportunity at a hit cheeseburger with the infamous gold foil wrapper, I noticed the girl right in front of me. She was a slim, dark-skinned girl, cool, quiet, and effortlessly put together. What really caught my eye was her hair. It was long, black, shiny, and undeniably hers. It wasn't about high density; it was about that natural fullness, luster, and the unmistakable signs of maintenance.

Let’s be real for a second about the sociopolitical economy of Black hair in the early 1990s. Back then, pristine hair care was a status symbol. If a girl had BOTH parents with a dual income, she was hitting the salon every two weeks for a professional relaxer or a high-end weave. On the flip side, girls from single-parent households were often doing the heavy lifting themselves or wearing tight, budget-friendly braids. I’m not generalizing the entire Black experience here; I’m just giving you the raw, unfiltered reality of my own lived experience.

HIGH SCHOOL NOIRE

Out of nowhere, a shorter, heavier-set Black girl barged right in front of me. Before I could even process the lack of line etiquette, she pulled out a lighter and casually set the victim's hair on fire! Now, if you know me, you know I don’t panic. I don’t scream, and I don't run because everyone is running. I see a problem, I assess and if feasible I fix it. In a matter of seconds, I smelled the distinct, heartbreaking scent of burning keratin, saw the spark, and used my bare fingers to stop the burning.

It happened so fast. The victim and I exchanged a look of pure, shared shock. When she asked who did it, I didn't care about the politics of snitching; I pointed the perpetrator out immediately. Looking back, that girl was a textbook bully. But here is the ultimate plot twist that life teaches you as you get older. Those high school bullies don't vanish into thin air. They usually grow up to become Nurses, Teachers, or Social Workers. They gravitate toward professions where they can cosplay as pillars of the community, wrapping themselves in a blanket of institutional goodness while carrying the exact same malice in their hearts.

RECYCLED TRAUMA

Fast forward to modern day. I am a salon owner. I have spent 25 licensed years observing the impact of texturism, and the psychology behind how we present ourselves. Sitting behind the chair, I’ve had front-row seats to the deep-seated resentment some women harbor toward others who dare to be their authentic selves.

Imagine being Black, dark-skinned, and rocking your own healthy, long natural hair, only for someone to be inherently enraged by your existence. The fire-starters of the world don't just go on to take trusted jobs in society, they reproduce. They pass that unvetted, unhealed trauma down to the next generation.

PATRIARCHY

We often talk about how the patriarchy weaponizes colorism and texturism against us. But we rarely want to talk about how that hatred is recycled internally, within our own community. The truth is, when you fully accept who you are, how you carry your weight, and how you represent Black womanhood, your confidence will disturb people.

INTERNAL FLAME

So, how do you celebrate your Black Girl Magic without igniting the flames of jealousy in others? You don’t. There is absolutely nothing you can do to force someone else's acceptance. Your joy is not up for negotiation, and your aesthetic is not a personal attack on anyone else, even if they treat it like one.

But I want to challenge us to look inward. If you ever catch yourself feeling a flash of disdain, irritation, or jealousy toward another Black woman because of her hair, her skin tone, or her overall aesthetic, pause. Ask yourself:

• Where is this coming from?

• What unhealed part of me is triggered by her freedom?

• How can I actively combat this feeling?

We cannot eradicate misogynoir, texturism, and colorism if we refuse to acknowledge our own participation in the cycle.

BLOG | JUNE 2026

www.vanityhairstudionyc.com