Means of Expression: How the Queer Community in Caribbean Culture Uses Hair to Tell Their Stories
For many Caribbeans, hair plays a huge role in identity. Many countries have their traditional hairstyles that often feed into gender norms and expectations. While this is not inherently meant to be negative, it can be difficult to navigate, especially for those in the LGBTQ+ community.
To dive deeper into the real-life experiences of those who’ve explored their queerness while facing these standards, Who What Wear spoke with three individuals who were willing to share what it means to use hair as a powerful tool for expression and self-acceptance. Below, you’ll hear their unique stories and discover how pride in Caribbean culture can extend to meet each person where they are in their authenticity.
Abby
Abby, who resides in Brooklyn, New York, is a barber at a gender-neutral barbershop called Hairrari. She was raised in a Jamaican household in New Jersey, where hair was a huge part of identity. When looking back on her childhood, she recalls her hair being put on a pedestal for being slightly looser and softer than the other members of her family.
As she got older, she began exploring other styles. While she kept her hair natural, she started trying twists and even took on side bangs after being influenced by her love of pop punk in middle school. “During childhood, I think I only straightened my hair twice,” she says. “No relaxer—it was always natural. It was always my mom or grandma doing my hair. They would always say, ‘Your hair is your beauty.’ So it was always in a state of growth.” While she’s grateful now that she never tried straightening treatments and she was surrounded by positive messaging about her hair from her family, she still had the desire to change up her look. “Back then, I wanted to relax and straighten my hair, but it wasn’t a thing that [my family] would let happen.”
It wasn’t until after college that Abby started experimenting with the length of her hair. Before that, it was always long and often worn in braids or twist-outs. In 2021, she decided to get what many curly haired people call “the big chop," which she says coincided with the realization of her queerness. “I had really fine, coily hair that became hard to manage, and I had been following a lot of curly cut people,” she says. “I learned a lot from them through social media, and I was like, ‘Okay, I think I’m finally ready to, like, try this.’” She booked her appointment at The Mona Cut hair salon, where she got her first pixie cut. The decision felt freeing, and to her surprise, she also didn’t receive criticism from her family for it.
Abby also plays a unique role for others in her job as a barber. “Hairrari is one of [my] first workplaces that has been a predominantly queer space,” she says. “It feels so refreshing for me to come as I am, talk to my peers, and know that we’re already on the same plane of existence.” She believes her clients have a similar experience, especially those who weren’t able to try certain styles at other salons due to barbers being too hesitant to do them. It makes her feel empowered to help others get more comfortable expressing their needs.
Post–big chop, Abby has tried everything from faux hawks and buzzed sides to full buzz cuts. “I feel very nonbinary but also outside the box in terms of my gender and sexuality, too,” she says. “In college, I felt like if my hair didn’t look a certain way, people didn’t see me as a girl (back when I was trying to be a girl), and I always felt very self-conscious about it.” As she came more into her gender identity, she felt freer to do what she wanted with it. Still, some of her extended family members don’t know that she identifies as queer. “I’ve been very lucky with my parents, and I have other Caribbean friends in the queer community, but we know that back home is not the place to be super out,” she says. “There was queerness in Caribbean cultures before colonialism, and I hope we can find that again.”
These days, she’s growing her hair out again and learning about what products work for her. “I’m looking forward to revisiting long hair while being fully in my queerness because the last time I had long hair, I was still very femme-presenting, and now I feel differently about gender,” she says. “I’m like, ‘I don’t have to be super feminine just because my hair is long. Here are the other ways I can edge it up.’” She feels that her current hairstyle doesn’t feel like a departure from her Jamaican roots—it’s just not as heavily influenced by them. “I am my culture, and whatever I do with my hair is a part of that culture,” she says. “There are queer Jamaicans and Caribbeans, and we’re not going anywhere. We’re always going to be here.”
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