“We let Willow cut her hair. When you have a little girl, it’s like how can you teach her that you’re in control of her body? If I teach her that I’m in charge of whether or not she can touch her hair, she’s going to replace me with some other man when she goes out in the world. She can’t cut my hair but that’s her hair. She has got to have command of her body. So when she goes out into the world, she’s going out with a command that it is hers. She is used to making those decisions herself. We try to keep giving them those decisions until they can hold the full weight of their lives.”
The above feminist parenting wisdom by Will Smith (clearly ventriloquized by Jada, duh) and the below commentary just blew my mind, both in terms of my relationship with my own body which has never felt like my own, and my feminism and understanding of the social exigencies through which qpoc/femmes/women grow into their bodies.
(On why he let Willow cut all of her hair off)
Read more: Will Smith On Allowing Willow To Cut Her Hair: ‘She Has Got To Have Command Of Her Body’ | Necole Bitchie.com
- He raises a really great point. What would it mean to believe very early that my body was mine. That it’s not for anyone or for any particular purpose other than to be mine until I decide otherwise.
I was damned near 30 before I could believe my body belonged to me & me alone. Dear people who take an issue with this,
Let the Smiths do right by their babies & shut the fuck up about how you think they should parent.
They are doing it RIGHT. People don’t understand this, but that’s ok. Those kids will be some well-adjusted, powerful adults.
This is so deep. My mother cried when I cut my hair off and my brother asked me “why would you do that to yourself” and my father told me that it wasn’t feminine. I was 18 and it took years for me to understand that I am in charge of my own body. I think I’m probably still working to understand that fully.
My hair was always down my back as a kid/teen — my dad constantly drove into my ears, “your hair is your crown”. He also always told me as a young Black woman with long hair, I was “special” and HAD to keep my hair. He also told me if I ever cut my hair, I’d look like a dyke (telling me this when I’m 8 years old? really?) and so I was always, ALWAYS scared to cut my hair. When I was 17, my mom was on deployment, and I went to my hairstylist and she asked what color I was doing that day — I said no color, cut my hair. I cut 18” off that day. Of course my mom and dad were shocked and upset but I felt amazing to make that decision for myself and to own my short hair and to be free and yes, even, gay as all hell.
Reblogging again for the commentary