2-BSide

Our culture is one saturated 

by 
antiquated, 
sexist 
and 

Eurocentric 
perceptions 
of 

female 
beauty. 
Intertwined 

with this conception of physical 
perfection 
is 
hair, 
more 

specifically straight hair, which 
has 
prompted 

generations 
of 

African-American 
women 
to 
alter 

their 
unique 

frizz 
and 
curl 

patterns 
to 
fit 

the mold of silky locks. With its 
well-constructed 
protagonist, 

engaging character relationships 
and 
profound, 
relevant 

reflections about skewed societal 
guidelines for beauty, “Nappily 
Ever After” simply cannot be 
passed off as just another chick-
flick, even though it abides by 
many of the rom-com genre 
conventions.

When Violet (Sanaa Lathan, 

“Love & Basketball”) was a little 
girl, she quickly learned that 
the only path to perfection was 
through straight hair. And she 
never forgot it. As an adult with 
a thriving career, a doting and 
sexy boyfriend and long, relaxed 
hair, Violet’s life is nothing short 
of perfect. However, when an 
eagerly 
anticipated 
proposal 

from her hunky beau Clint (Ricky 
Whittle, “Austenland”) turns out 
to be a false alarm and leads to a 
messy breakup, rainclouds begin 
to form over Violet’s flawless and 
straight-laced world. Struggling 
to get back into the dating pool 
and navigate lingering feelings 
for her ex, Violet, in a drunken 
craze, 
makes 
a 
hasty 
and 

emotionally-charged decision to 
shave her head. At first regretful 
of her rash choice, Violet’s 
definition of beauty begins to 
re-shape itself when a trip to the 
salon to salvage her hair-troubles 
leads to an unexpected friendship 
with the sassy yet sweet Zoe 

(Daria Johns, “Animator”) and 
a tentative romance with Zoe’s 
down-to-earth father Will (Lyriq 
Bent, “She’s Gotta Have It”).

Part of what allows “Nappily 

Ever After” to find success is its 
ability to balance heftier topics 
with lighthearted moments. At 
the surface level, Violet’s search 
for “the right man” can be passed 
off as akin to any female lead’s 

journey to love in 
any other romantic 
film. 
However, 

what sets “Nappily 
Ever After” apart 
is its dissection of 
the impact of the 

male gaze on women’s choices 
regarding 
their 
appearances. 

All her life, Violet was taught, 
both by the beauty industry 
and her mother, that men only 
want women with long, flowing 
tresses, not afros and dreadlocks. 
Thus, she styled her hair straight, 
altering herself with the end 
goal of presenting herself the 
way she thought men found 
desirable. Through her dramatic 
hair transformation and healthy, 
blossoming 
relationship 
with 

Will, Violet finally starts to 
grasp the notion that a real man, 
or at least any 
man worth her 
time, 
will 
see 

her for who she 
is, 
regardless 

of what does or 
doesn’t grow out 
of her head.

Violet’s 

transformation 
by the end of the 
film is clear. Once 
insecure 
about 

her natural hair 
and 
allegiant 

to the flat iron, 
Violet is no longer 
the same woman 
by the end of the 
film. For so many 
years, water was 
Violet’s 
enemy, 

as 
it 
had 
the 

power 
to 
ruin 

her painstakingly 
pressed locks within seconds. 
Newly 
empowered 
and 
unchained 

from anyone’s standards, Violet 
lets it all go through her symbolic 
leap into a swimming pool, 

literally drowning out years of 
lies that she has been told about 

her frizz, her 
curls 
and 

her 
texture 

not 
being 

beautiful 
enough.

On 
its 

own, straight 
hair isn’t the 
problem. As is 
emphasized 
in the final 
moments 
of 

the film, it 
is 
not 
that 

women 
should 
feel 

guilty 
or 

wrong 
for 

wanting 
to 

switch 
up 

their natural 
hair, 
but 

rather 
that 

all 
women 

should feel confident in their 
choices to alter their looks with 
the knowledge that they are 
worthy of love and respect no 
matter what. 

6B — Thursday, September 27, 2018
b-side
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

I have frizzy hair. This is an 

indisputable fact.

My 
hair 
best 
resembles 

a 
bush 
of 
black 
ringlets 

springing 
from 
different 

angles across my head. The 
strands in the front are shorter 
and bounce up if you give them 
a quick tug at the ends. When 
I reach behind my head I feel a 
mass of uneven curls; the tips 
are frayed even after a recent 
haircut and the outer layers 
are always softer than the 
inner sheets. I 
envy those that 
can run their 
fingers through 
their hair and 
change 
their 

part in seconds, 
because 
mine 

just 
doesn’t 

move like that.

I 
love 
my 

chaotic 
hair 

to 
death. 
But 

there’s 
one 

issue. My whole 
life, I’ve been 
told that it needs 
to be tamed.

Summer 

2006: 
I’m 

standing 
by 

the entrance to 
the 
bathroom, 

watching 
my 

grandmother 
plait her waist-
long 
hair 
in 

front 
of 
the 

mirror. 
Her 

red and white 
sari is loosely 
wrapped around 
her frame and 
gold 
bangles 

jangle 
against 

her wrists with 
each movement 
of her delicate 
fingers. The rich 
smell of coconut 
oil saturates the 
air; 
the 
scent 

irritates 
my 

seven-year-old 
nostrils 
and 

I take a step 
backwards. 
Finishing 
her 

braid, my grandmother dumps 
some coconut oil into her 
hands, rubs them together and 
makes a beeline for my head. I 
scream.

That 
dreadful 
summer 

afternoon was my earliest 
notion that something wasn’t 
right with my hair. Many 
Indian women have similar 
frizzy hair types, but their 
locks are always oiled and 
braided, 
tied 
up 
instead 

of 
bouncing 
against 
their 

backs. Short hair is seen as 
unfeminine. 
The 
strands 

frame their faces, not cover it 
like mine. The picture of the 
happy woman plastered on the 
front of the coconut oil bottle 
is clear in my head: Her hair is 
soft, silky and oiled. This was 
the ideal, and I didn’t fit the 
norm.

Part of this standard for 

female hair is perpetuated by 
Bollywood, an industry that 

capitalizes on rigid gender 
stereotypes. I have yet to see a 
Bollywood heroine that wears 
her hair like mine — curly and 
loose. Silky and straight hair 
isn’t realistic for the majority 
of Indian women. But because 
of Bollywood, it’s what every 
Indian woman aspires to have.

Spring 
2012: 
My 
clash 

with hair standards reached 
their height in Kathak, a type 
of Indian classical dance I 
pursued in my pre-teen and 
teen years. Typical Kathak 
dancers tie their hair up in 
a bun and decorate it with 
jasmine flowers. Their hair 

is pushed aside 
to 
display 

their 
face, 

accentuated 
with a tikli — 
an 
ornament 

resting 
on 

the top of the 
forehead. 
A 

deep red bindi 
is pressed onto 
the forehead for 
the same effect. 
When I tied my 
hair for Kathak 
dance 
recitals, 

gravity-defying 
strands 
of 

hair 
shot 
up 

at the root of 
the 
bun 
and 

near my ears. 
It looked like 
a lion’s mane, 
an 
obvious 

anomaly 
on 

stage. 
My 

teacher 
and 

fellow 
dance 

students 
had 

effortlessly 
neat 
buns 
on 

their 
heads. 

When I looked 
in the mirror 
minutes before 
showtime, 
I 

forced 
myself 

to 
ignore 
my 

hair and focus 
on the rest of 
my appearance 
instead. But the 
shame 
burned 

at the pit of 
my 
stomach, 

a 
constant 
reminder 
as 

I 
performed 
that 
I 
was 

different.

Years later, I’ve realized 

why my culture’s ideas about 
hair never fit my own. I chose 
to keep my hair down all 
those years because my hair 
was an integral part of my 
personality; it typefied my 
energetic and happy persona. 
I didn’t mind the frizz, even 
though society had always 
told me to tuck it away. Hiding 
my hair made me feel naked, 
as if I was missing a part of 
who I was.

I haven’t been near coconut 

oil in years. I wear my hair 
the way I like it: always loose, 
always frizzy, but always me. 
I still don’t understand the 
antipathy to frizzy hair I see 
when walking the streets. 
What’s wrong with frizzy? 
Frizzy 
is 
different 
and 

diverse, fun and sassy. And it’s 
beautiful.

A case for frizz

TRINA PAL

Daily Arts Writer

The graceful ‘Nappily Ever After’ 
triumphant with self-acceptance

SAMANTHA NELSON

Daily Arts Writer

The picture 

of the happy 

woman 

plastered on 

the front of 

the coconut oil 

bottle is clear 

in my head: 

Her hair is 

soft, silky and 

oiled. This was 

the ideal, and 

I didn’t fit the 

norm

FILM REVIEW

NETFLIX

NOTEBOOK

Roughly a year ago, rapper 

Young Thug was charged 
with eight major felonies, 
including intent to distribute 
methamphetamine 
and 

hydrocodone. This headline 
came and went, and the 
Atlanta star seemed to be in 
the clear. Two weeks ago, 
while on tour with J. Cole, 
Thug posted an Instagram 
picture of a notecard that 
read, “On The Rvn,” implying 
a 
soon-to-come 
anti-

authority album and bringing 
to the surface his legal issues. 
Just days later, he turned 
himself in to the authorities, 
delaying the release of the EP.

Now released on bail, Thug 

finally dropped the project. 
The 6-track EP is limited 
in features and primarily 
showcases 
beats 
from 

London On Da Track, the 
same formula used for Thug’s 

most 
impressive 
mixtape, 

Slime Season 3. After the 
release 
of 
the 
mediocre 

full-length 
album, 
Slime 

Language, which seemed to 
reflect a regression in the 

rapper’s ability, On The Rvn 
is a redeeming return to what 
works.

Unlike on Slime Language, 

Thug is not fighting for space 
with featured artists who 
sound just like him; the only 
guests are 6lack and Jaden 

Smith, and their contributions 
are limited and very well-
suited. Additionally, London 
On Da Track’s beats make 
the project an easier listen 
overall, 
as 
he 
provides 

dynamic sounds that stray 
from the hackneyed trap of 
Slime Language.

To cap it all off, the EP ends 

with an official release of 
Young Thug’s remix of Elton 
John’s “Rocket Man,” a track 
that has bounced around 
SoundCloud for a few years. 
With a gorgeous falsetto that 
slides to trembling baritone, 
Thugger reminds listeners 
why he is one of the most 
innovative 
rappers 
alive, 

an 
important 
move 
after 

his prior release left fans 
doubting his relevance. 

 — Mike Watkins
Daily Arts Writer

“Nappily Ever 

After”
Netflix

NETFLIX

“Nappily Ever 

After” simply 

cannot be passed 

off as just another 

chick-flick, even 

though it abides 

by many of the 

rom-com genre 

conventions

ATLANTIC RECORDING

EP REVIEW: YOUNG THUG’S ‘ON THE RVN’

On the Rvn

Young Thug

Atlantic Recording

