My Crown
THEME: GOOD TROUBLE
Cailyn
Dawson
CAILYN DAWSON
My Crown
THEME: GOOD TROUBLE
the artist's inspiration
Who does our hair belong to?
For many years, I had a very complicated relationship with my hair. I would straighten it and straighten it some more. My mind was filled with the many different expectations that society puts on us. It had to conform in a certain way – not to be natural, but to be straight.
That feeling ran so deep that I would not go to events if my hair wasn’t perfect, which at that point meant straight.
That’s the degree of pressure I felt.
A very personal feeling, but one that is experienced everyday by Black people all over the United States.
CAPITOL PARK, detroit
june 2024
More than one in five Black women aged 25-34 have been sent home from work because of their hair. If you have coily/textured hair, you are twice as likely to experience microaggressions in the workplace, compared to Black women with straighter hair. More than half of Black women feel they need to wear their hair straight to a job interview to be successful.
This expectation of Black women is a simple continuation of a history of enforced conformity. When Black people were enslaved, they had to pick European names, as the enslavers couldn’t pronounce their names. And ever since, Black people have been expected to change themselves fit into the standards of society that did not serve them or honor their dignity.
On the sculpture, you see the hot comb. In a way it brings back wonderful memories of spending time with my mom. But then you remember the smell, which is nostalgic, but has that charred smell that makes you realize – we are actually damaging ourselves to conform. I used to be so worried about my mom burning me.
Like countless Black women, my mom always straightened her hair. And then around five years ago, she decided to stop. It had damaged her hair enough and was far too expensive. Seeing her so confident in her natural hair was really big for me.
Inspired by her, I also stopped. It wasn’t easy – it was a gradual journey towards acceptance of myself and my natural state. For a period I was insecure about it, that it didn’t live up to a certain standard.
And then I fell in love with it. I realized it doesn’t have to conform.
Who does our hair belong to? It’s my hair. It’s all mine. It’s my crown.
It has become a form of expression – I’ve tried a lot: shaved off sides, dyed it blue, I’ve had fun! It’s an opportunity to have fun and explore and share who I am.
That’s what you see on the sculpture – a self-portrait of me having grown in confidence and appreciation of my hair, my crown. It is an act of saying enough to conforming to standards and expectations that don’t honor our dignity. It is an act of pride and radical self-love.
This sculpture invites you to celebrate all of those radical acts of self-love that are about casting off the bonds that conformity puts on us.
And then I fell in love with it. I realized it doesn’t have to conform.
That’s something we can do as individuals and together. To end hair discrimination in the workplace, California passed the ground breaking CROWN Act in 2019. It stands for Create a Respectful and Open Workplace for Natural hair. Since then, it’s been passed by another 22 states – so 27 to go! A federal CROWN Act passed the House of Representatives in 2022, but was never voted on in the Senate.
To find out more about the campaign to end hair discrimination nationwide, go to www.thecrownact.com
the artist's inspiration
Who does our hair belong to?
For many years, I had a very complicated relationship with my hair. I would straighten it and straighten it some more. My mind was filled with the many different expectations that society puts on us. It had to conform in a certain way – not to be natural, but to be straight.
That feeling ran so deep that I would not go to events if my hair wasn’t perfect, which at that point meant straight.
That’s the degree of pressure I felt.
A very personal feeling, but one that is experienced everyday by Black people all over the United States.