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      in Movies

      One Last Takeaway From ‘The Slap’: Leave Black Women’s Hair Alone

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      Lost in the Oscars fray is the hurt inflicted when a group is denigrated for a laugh. Chris Rock, who has examined this issue in a documentary, should have known better.While the Slap Heard Round the World has been vigorously debated and dissected since Will Smith confronted Chris Rock at the Oscars, there was more to the incident than its abrupt physicality.Rock’s joke, and Jada Pinkett Smith’s resulting eyeroll, echoed even more thunderously for Black women. Her glare encapsulated the fatigue and frustration that so many of us deal with in the complex daily feat of simply wearing our hair as we like. That Chris Rock would point to a Black woman’s hair for a joke left me breathless, and I wasn’t alone.“When Black women’s hair is mocked by comedians like Rock, he ushers in the everyday forms of microaggressive hatred against Black women that normalized blatant discrimination,” Ralina Joseph, a professor at the University of Washington, Seattle, and the director of the Center for Communication, Difference and Equity, said in an email interview.Black women’s hair has been the object of scrutiny, derision and ridicule in American society since it’s been growing out of our heads. Thanks to standards of beauty that for too long excluded us, we are arguably the largest demographic in the country whose hair is continually policed. Court cases document fights against school districts and corporations trying to govern how we can wear our hair. A segment of people who don’t live with it, in all its iterations of textures and lengths, somehow wants to dictate how and when it’s pretty, professional or unkempt.Distaste for Black hair seeps into our everyday lives: Just last month, the House of Representatives passed the CROWN Act, banning discrimination against natural hair in hiring, public housing placement and public access accommodations. Let that sink in: Exclusionary actions stemming from disdain toward our hairstyles are so pervasive, they require legislation.Nowadays, visibility and a touch of glamorization in mainstream media (I’m lookin’ at you, Beyoncé), have fostered a growing fascination with our manes — a double-edged sword. Bosses scrutinize or give it a shout-out, strangers try to paw or photograph it, friends and frenemies praise or judge it — even Tinder prospects weigh in on it.Academic studies have outlined how strongly the identity of many Black women is tied to their hair. Not having the type of hair that’s affirmed and considered “womanly” in the culture at large can dent one’s sense of self. And feeling that what’s considered a key part of womanhood needs altering to be accepted, especially from childhood, makes it hard to see one’s image as positive.The Altercation Between Will Smith and Chris RockThe Incident: The Oscars were derailed when Will Smith slapped Chris Rock, who made a joke about Mr. Smith’s wife, Jada Pinkett Smith.His Speech: Moments after the onstage altercation, Mr. Smith won the Oscar for best actor. Here’s what he said in his acceptance speech.The Aftermath: Mr. Smith, who the academy said refused to leave following the incident, apologized to Mr. Rock the next day after the academy denounced his actions.A Triumph Tempered: Mr. Smith owned Serena and Venus Williams’s story in “King Richard.” Then he stole their moment at the Oscars.What Is Alopecia?: Ms. Smith’s hair loss condition played a major role in the incident.Since it’s hard to separate our image from our hair, poking fun at a Black hair style is an easy way to get a laugh while devaluing Black women. Witness Jamie Foxx lampooning us as Wanda on “In Living Color” and Martin Lawrence as Sheneneh. It’s incomprehensible that a Black comic would reach for it in such a high-profile setting as the Oscars — especially a man so closely associated with a film about Black women’s hair struggles.Not only did Rock produce and narrate the 2009 documentary “Good Hair,” which brought Black hair culture to the big screen, but he created it with his own daughters in mind. In the opening, he recounts how one of his girls asked him, “Daddy, how come I don’t have good hair?” Onscreen, he speaks to a range of women, including celebrities like Raven-Symoné, who explain that when they relaxed their hair, the goal was also about making society comfortable with them.Chris Rock in “Good Hair,” a documentary he narrated and produced.Roadside AttractionsWhile the film could have delved further into how Black women have thrived in a beauty culture (including a hair-care industry) that has rarely included them, it illuminated our struggle to audiences that may not have known one existed. It’s hard to understand how he could help bring that gem of a film to life and yet take a swipe at a Black woman’s hair. Did he so quickly forget the lessons of that film, which seemed to recognize how American society “otherizes” us and our tresses?Or, worse still, did the lessons never matter? Rock has a history of dogging not just Black women, but the entire Black community, or as Joseph calls it, “in-group punching down.”“Despite a brief ‘Good Hair’ moment. where he celebrated (and mocked) Black women, his punching down has also been broadly anti-Black woman,” she noted.Through his career, Rock has demonstrated a penchant for belittling and mischaracterizing Black women, from his ex-wife to female romantic partners in general. In a 1997 episode of “The Chris Rock Show,” he skewered Black women’s need to join the Million Woman March to his guest — Jada Pinkett Smith, a march participant.There’s another sensitive aspect to Rock’s dig at Pinkett Smith. In interviews and on her Facebook series “Red Table Talk,” she has chronicled her painful ordeal with alopecia, a condition that disproportionately affects Black women. She initially concealed her hair loss under wigs. That she decided to shave her head and reveal the reason was to be commended, not jabbed at. To be clear: Whether Rock knew of her condition or not, the joke wasn’t hurtful only because Pinkett Smith deals with alopecia (an affliction to which “Good Hair” even devotes special attention). The insult added an extra layer of hurt, especially because Black women can be harsh on ourselves about hair, amid social pressures and Eurocentric beauty standards that we’ve internalized, often to an extreme degree.Generations of Black American women recall weekend afternoons spent watching an iron comb glow like molten lava on the stove burner. We waited for our mothers to wield the hot comb like a weapon, ready to press our thicket of coils into submission to make us more culturally palatable. Even at a young age, I wondered who I was supposed to be impressing.When I was deemed old enough, I “leveled up” to chemical straighteners that would frequently blister my scalp — all for a flouncy bob I detested. “Beauty is pain,” my hairdresser would chirp as she kneaded the chemical cream into my roots and I winced. In my mid-20s, I decided beauty wasn’t worth that pain, so I chopped off most of my hair and have since maintained a very short, natural style.“When Black women’s hair features as the butt of jokes, the very real and myriad forms of multiple marginalization against Black women is erased and even justified,” Joseph noted. “It hurts.”Even though the jokes at the expense of us and our hair predate Rock, we don’t need him to lead the way in turning up the savagery of the practice, let alone on Hollywood’s biggest evening.Like the director Jane Campion’s misstep a couple weeks ago at another awards show (which, sadly, also involved the Williams sisters, one of the focuses of the Will Smith film “King Richard”), this takedown of a Black woman stings even more for having been unleashed by someone who should know better — in Rock’s case, as a Black father of daughters; in Campion’s, as a woman who’s also probably dealt with sexist professional slights. But the result each time was the same: Black women were expected to smile and take the stab.In one sense, the entire Oscars to-do, and its flurry of embarrassment and apologies, could have been avoided by choosing not to drag a Black woman down by her hair. Yet for too many and for too long, it has felt irresistible not to mess with it, mess with us.So to anyone who ever feels the urge to mock, I’ll reframe Will Smith’s warning at the show: Keep the mention of Black women’s hair out of your mouth. More

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      in Movies

      Paul Huntley, Hair Master of Broadway and Hollywood, Is Dead at 88

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      The many famous heads he worked on included those of Elizabeth Taylor and Carol Channing. Some actors requested him in their contracts.Paul Huntley, the hair stylist and wig designer who gave Carol Channing her expansive bouffant in “Hello, Dolly!,” Alan Cumming his plastered curl in “Cabaret” and Sutton Foster her golden bob in “Anything Goes,” died on Friday in London. He was 88. His death was confirmed by a friend, Liz Carboni, who said he had been hospitalized for a lung infection.Mr. Huntley left New York for London, his native city, in February, and made clear in an interview with The New York Times that his work on “Diana: The Musical,” which is to begin performances on Broadway in November, would be his last. The pandemic, he said, had dried up opportunities, and his fractured hip was hurting.In a 60-year career, Mr. Huntley styled hair and created wigs for more than 200 shows, including “The Elephant Man,” “Chicago” and “Cats.” He was so respected that Betty Buckley, Jessica Lange and others had contracts specifying that he would do their hair.“He put wigs on my head for every show except ‘Les Miz’ in London. He was the master,” the actress Patti LuPone said. “When I put on a Paul Huntley wig, I never felt anything but my character.”The costume designer William Ivey Long called him “by far the premier hair designer on the planet, hands down.”Mr. Huntley tried a wig on Sutton Foster in 2002 for her role in “Thoroughly Modern Millie,” for which he sought to evoke New York City in 1922 with bangs, spit curls and finger waves.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesMr. Huntley’s output was prodigious, and he typically worked on several shows at once. In 2014 alone, he turned out 48 wigs for “Bullets Over Broadway” and more than 60 wigs and facial pieces for the Shakespeare Theater Company’s two-part “Henry IV” in Washington.In 2002, when he designed the hair for the Broadway musical “Thoroughly Modern Millie,” he also worked on “Morning’s at Seven,” “Hairspray” and the Off Broadway comedy “Helen.”For the show “Diana” — a version of which, filmed without an audience during the pandemic, is scheduled to premiere on Netflix on Oct. 1 — he created four wigs for the actress Jeanna de Waal to portray how the style of the Princess of Wales changed over time, from mousy ingenuousness to windswept sophistication.Paul Huntley was born on July 2, 1933, in Greater London, one of five children of a military man and a homemaker. He was fascinated at an early age by his mother’s movie magazines. After leaving school, he tried to find an apprenticeship in the film industry, but the flooded post-World War II job market had no space for him, so he enrolled at an acting school in London.He ended up helping with hair design for school productions and in the 1950s, after two years of military service, became an apprentice at Wig Creations, a large London theatrical company. He went on to become the main designer, working with the likes of Vivien Leigh, Marlene Dietrich and Laurence Olivier.Mr. Huntley helped construct the signature braids worn by Elizabeth Taylor in the 1963 movie “Cleopatra.” Ms. Taylor introduced him to the director Mike Nichols, who a decade later enlisted Mr. Huntley to do hair for his Broadway production of “Uncle Vanya” at Circle in the Square. He eventually became the go-to designer for plays and musicals, including “The Real Thing,” “The Heidi Chronicles” and “Crazy for You.” More

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      in Music

      Debbie Gibson Is Not Going to Get Stuck in the Past

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      The pioneering pop singer on her beauty and wellness journey.Debbie Gibson, the pop singer who shot to fame in the late 1980s with “Electric Youth,” is still making new music. She has an album out in August, “The Body Remembers,” her first in 20 years, and is performing in Las Vegas (at the Venetian) to boot. “Electric Youth” may have influenced fashion (her signature headwear) and beauty (Electric Youth perfume) for a certain generation, but Ms. Gibson, 50, is living firmly in the moment. “I never stay back in the day because today is today, and that’s how I approach life,” she said. Here, her current take on beauty products and wellness regimens.She’s a Morning PersonI joke that I if I was not in entertainment, I would be a farmer. I’m down with the sun and up with the sun. I did half the vocals of my new album by 5 a.m. in my nightgown. I do try to linger in bed with my dogs, three boy dachshunds. That snuggle time with puppy kisses for me is everything.I need breakfast within a half-hour of waking up. I’m a basic eggs, orange juice and coffee person. On a decadent day like today, it’s an almond croissant.Mad Scientist Skin CareI’m kind of a mad scientist with my skin regimes. I do what I need on that day. I love micellar water for cleansing. I just got the Soap & Glory Triple Action Jelly Eye Makeup Remover. I also have this Tarte Knockout Tingling Treatment. It’s got glycolic in it. It really wakes my skin up. I also love the Tatcha brand — the deep cleanse and the moisturizer.Basically I try to use fragrance-free lines now. My life really took a turn 10 years ago when I got Lyme. I started to have chemical sensitivities I never had before. My skin especially reacts to sunscreen. Now I use the Derma-E Sun Defense Mineral Oil-Free baby sunscreen.I have this Biossance Squalane + Glycolic Renewal Mask, and yesterday I got this Youth to the People Superclay mask at Sephora. I also love oils on my face. I live in Las Vegas, and it is so dry here — my hair won’t even grow past a certain point now. I have several oils that I rotate. I use the Farsáli Rose Gold Elixir. I also have the Tarte Maracuja Oil. I used to go for a super-matte look — I was a Broadway girl. It was my pasty New York era. Now I’m a glowy skin and makeup person.Glow OnI use multiple bases. Here I’m a mad scientist again. I have a Make Up For Ever stick, and I have the Ultra HD liquid base. I have some discoloration, some melasma on my jawline. I have to go a little heavier there. I love the L’Oréal Miracle Blur for my forehead lines. Obsessed. I don’t like a lot under my eyes — it brings out my lines if I’m tired. Sometimes I’ll use the Charlotte Tilbury Hollywood Flawless Filter and blend it into my base. I love a highlighter by Melt Cosmetics — it’s a peach color and so pretty.I used to do a lot of contour under my cheekbones, but not anymore. I like my cheeks to show through my makeup now. Another go-to is my Lime Crime trio of highlighters. There’s a glowy pale peach that I love. I love all my glow!I use the Urban Decay waterline pencil and the 24/7 pencils. I line the inside top of my eye with a darker color and a lighter color on the top lash line. I like the look of a liner inside my lower lashline, but it irritates my eyes. If it’s a “I’m going to suffer for beauty” kind of day, that’s what I do.I have the Huda Beauty Rose Gold eye shadow palette. My favorites are the Fling and Rose Gold colors. I love the Stila Glitter & Glow eye glitter in Diamond Dust. I saw this brand Dear Dahlia on Instagram, and now I use their liquid shadow Paradise Shine Eye Sequins in Muse. I also have Fenty Beauty sheer white shimmer that you can put on top of your whole lid. I just love shimmer, shimmer, shimmer.My brows have gotten so thin. If you’re a young girl out there, and you’re going through a breakup, don’t take it out on your brows. I remember the tweezing session that changed my life. I have a sandy/taupe brow powder.I’m a lash fanatic. Lashes are the best! I immediately feel like a pop star if I put some lashes on. I use high-end lashes and pharmacy lashes. I have Ardell Wispies and I love Velour, which are at Sephora. If I’m going onstage, I’ll double up lashes. For mascara, I’m into good old Maybelline Great Lash. Then there’s Too Faced Better Than Sex mascara if I want more. That’s a fun one.I just bought two Pat McGrath lip glosses I’m so excited about. I like to do MAC Spice liner and a gloss on top. MAC also has this nude lip pencil color that’s like a nudish Brigitte Bardot liner that I love, too.Hair IssuesAge doesn’t matter for me in a lot of areas, but at 48 my hair started to change in texture. Now I’m 50. There’s gray in my hair — I have base and highlights. Twice in my life I got bonded extensions, and within 48 hours I had them removed. At the end of the day, I just like to feel natural. There are so many other ways to turn on the glam. I need a great wig in my life.I love Keranique Scalp Stimulating Shampoo. It has a mint scent. I alternate that with Desert Essence Fragrance-Free Shampoo, which is super gentle. I also have Original Sprout Leave-In Conditioner. And my manager just turned me onto the K18 hair mask. I also use the Philip B. Detangling Toning Mist.But my favorite thing to do, my kitchen hack, is to use avocado oil cooking spray in my hair. I spray my hands and do a piece-y thing at my ends. It gives it such an amazing texture.Making Peace With LinesI had gotten Botox twice in my 30s, and then the third time I did it — I think I was around 40 — I got this horrible reaction. I think it’s because I didn’t know then that Lyme was on board, and my body couldn’t handle it. I’ve accepted the fact that if you’re an expressive person, you’re going to have lines and flaws. I celebrate it all at this point. I’m not going to jeopardize my health just so I can freeze some lines.Diet PuzzlesFor a long time, I was scared of food because of Lyme. I didn’t know much then. I had to do food allergy and sensitivity tests. I was super, super strict, eating organic proteins, veggies and low glycemic fruits. I’m happy to say I know what works for me now. I’ve built my body back up to the point where nothing is going to take me completely down.I’ve been working with a dietitian since I was 17. I referred her to Janet Jackson and Paula Abdul. She’s amazing — Lisa Giannini. She has so many great tricks, and she’s very into gut health. It’s about learning your own health and diet puzzle.Learning to RelaxI used to do three-hour workouts before a dance rehearsal! I was like an Olympic athlete. Since Lyme, I do just enough movement to be fit, but I can’t use up all my reserve. I did get a Peloton, and I do love it so so much. I also have an elliptical machine, and I do my own made-up version of a workout with light weights and a Pilates ring. And I do a whole lot of walking with my dogs.I try to do things that feel flowy. I discovered Kundalini yoga from this woman on YouTube, Sat Dharam Kaur, who does these amazing breathing exercises. I used to be addicted to that super-sore, I-can’t-walk-the-next-day feeling. It did me a lot of damage. I’m a more-is-more kind of person, but my body is, like, “Sorry, you have to learn moderation.”I think everybody has a journey — we all have edges we’re trying to contain — but I think one of the biggest lessons I’ve learned is that I’m not people-pleasing anymore. I have no problem saying I need to take a self-care day. More

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      in Theater

      Review: In ‘Crowns, Kinks and Curls,’ Getting to the Roots of Black Hair

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      Keli Goff’s series of vignettes feature Black women recounting how their hair affected their school lives, relationships or careers.I have 4b hair that remained virgin hair, mostly styled in box braids and cornrows with extensions, until I was 13, when I got my first relaxer. My scalp has known chemical burns, hot comb burns, curling iron burns, flat iron burns and the unrelenting throbbing that comes with hours of tight root-wrenching braiding. I got my big chop at 21 and have been natural — years of T.W.A.s and twist-outs and wash ‘n’ go’s — ever since.Do you get what I’m saying, or am I speaking another language?I’ve written about my hair before, and every time I do I’m well aware of the vocabulary, which I’m sure is unfamiliar to many non-Black readers. Though it’s not just a matter of terms or phrases: Black women often encounter unprovoked opinions and wrong assumptions from employers, strangers — even family and friends — about what their hairstyle says about their professionalism, their social status or their relationship to Blackness.The personal, cultural and political implications of Black hair are at the root of the well-meaning but less than inspired “The Glorious World of Crowns, Kinks and Curls.” (And yes, pun definitely intended.)Written by Keli Goff and produced by and filmed at Baltimore Center Stage, “Crowns, Kinks and Curls” is a series of vignettes, each one featuring a Black woman recounting how her hair affected her school life, relationships or career. The piece channels the spirit of Ntozake Shange’s “For Colored Girls,” though the writing, albeit earnest, is far less poetic.The actresses Stori Ayers, Awa Sal Secka and Shayna Small embody all of the fictional women, donning different do’s to do so. (Nikiya Mathis handled the eclectic mix of hair and wig designs.) Most of the scenes are monologues, though occasionally two or three women meet, say, in the office of a mostly white law firm, where an older straight-haired lawyer named Sharon (Ayers) berates a younger one, Ally (Sal Secka), for wearing her hair in braids: “I’m sorry, I can’t let you meet a major client looking like this.”Gaby (Small), with sleek face-hugging Josephine Baker-style finger waves, recalls her mother’s distress that she cut her “good hair” for her wedding day, showing how hair reflects the generational trauma held by some Black women. Wanda (Ayers), in bouncy mocha and champagne blonde curls, recounts how an ex-boyfriend reproached her for pressing her natural hair for an interview, illustrating how “authentic Blackness” is often policed even within the Black community.And so every tale has its moral, none of which should be new to any Black woman. They certainly weren’t for me, a woman who has had white people make awkward comments about my hair, ask questions and even ask to touch my crown in admiration.Which is to say “Crowns, Kinks and Curls” excited me more conceptually than it did in its actual execution, which was all perfectly serviceable, from the performances to Bianca LaVerne Jones’s staging, to Dede Ayite’s set, with a big, puzzling backdrop of large flowers.Scenes span recent history, some taking place during the Obama Administration and others referencing former President Trump and 2019’s Crown Act against hair-based discrimination. These glimmers of vibrancy underscore the timeliness of the topic, given how the social consciousness of Blackness has shifted since the Obama era.In one humorous monologue, Sal Secka, wearing an Afro pony — ethereal and exquisitely cloudlike — plays a woman named Adaora who has accompanied her biracial daughter to see the royal wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle and cheer on the Black princess.In a somber scene, two unnamed women (Sal Secka and Ayers) unwrap and unpin their hair in silence, as “Strange Fruit” is sung offstage; they are preparing to go to a funeral for a Black husband and son unjustly killed. It’s the one sequence in which hair is not so explicitly the topic of discussion, but rather is powerfully positioned as part of a larger expression of the Black experience, particularly at this moment in history.In a somber scene, Stori Ayers unwraps and unpins her hair in silence.Diggle/Baltimore Center StageThe show’s program includes a brief timeline of the history of Black women’s hairstyles and hair practices, referencing enslaved women’s use of head wraps and braids before enduring the Middle Passage, along with the work of hair pioneers like Madam C.J. Walker and George E. Johnson Sr. There’s so much to be mined in the history of Black hair that “Crowns, Kinks and Curls” feels like it has missed opportunities to go further — or even incorporate real stories.Why not use the smart, funny and vulnerable voices of real Black women? Why not devise scenes that are more than neatly prepared monologues?And because it is a rarity to see Black women talking about their Black hair onstage, what I saw only made me hungry for more: I wanted to see more Black women of different shades, in not only wigs and weaves but also their own natural ‘fros. I was disappointed, in scenes where women were supposed to be wearing natural hair, to see false approximations.I believe this very capable show — which had a creative team entirely comprising Black women, to my utter delight — can be more. I hope it happens if and when it’s staged in person, as it’s the kind of work I both want and need to see, as a Black female critic and as a Black woman writing about an art form that too often fails people of color.So as I undid my own head of flat twists this weekend in preparation for a much-needed trip to the salon, this earnest request crossed my mind: more Black women, and more (and more and more) of those curls.The Glorious World of Crowns, Kinks and CurlsThrough April 18; centerstage.org More