For many Black people, altering their appearance and mannerisms to fit white expectations is a matter of instinct.

It is the blithe cherry-picking of Black anatomy ― the booty, the lips, the complexion, the texture of hair, even ― to embellish white beauty standards and fuel celebrity without addressing glaring representation issues.

It is class assumptions; it is subliminal and overt messaging in the media; it is being routinely pressured into accommodating white fragility; it is being gaslit into second-guessing your style choices, into being made to feel like a transgressor for doing something as natural and joyous as letting your hair be.

White privilege is people thinking that it is OK to run their hands through my hair.

It wasn’t until I moved to New York and was exposed to Black people of different cultures did I realize my natural hair was beautiful.