Black Hair Quotes

“Just because my hair takes up space doesn't mean it's dirty.”
― Tracy Deonn, Bloodmarked

“It was black-black, so thick it drank two containers of relaxer at the salon, so full it took hours under the hooded dryer, and, when finally released from pink plastic rollers, sprang free and full, flowing down her back like a celebration. Her father called it a crown of glory.”
― Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Americanah

“Have you seen that Chris Rock movie about hair?’ No, I haven’t seen that Chris Rock movie about hair. I don’t need to see a Chris Rock movie about black hair when I have my own head of black hair for reference. But if I had $1 for every white person who has asked me if I’ve seen that movie and then proceeded to educate me on the problems with my own damn hair and the black hair industry I’d have enough money to keep myself in Indian Remy for life.”
― Ijeoma Oluo, So You Want to Talk About Race

“Even she hair itself rough and wiry; long black knotty locks springing from she scalp and corkscrewing all the way down she back...
The only thing soft about Tan-Tan is she big molasses-brown eyes that could look on you, and your heart would beat time...”
― Nalo Hopkinson, Midnight Robber

“He smiled and pulled the ugly white fichu from her neck.
She blinked and looked down at the simple, square neckline of her bodice as if she'd never seen it. Perhaps she hadn't. Perhaps she dressed in the dark like a nun. "What are you doing?"
He sighed. "I confess, I find your naïveté perplexing. How have you arrived at the advanced age of six and twenty without having anyone attempt seduction upon yourself? I'm of two minds on the matter: One, utter astonishment at my sex and their deaf disregard for your siren call. Two, glee at the thought that your innocence might signal that you are indeed innocent. Why this should excite me so, I don't know- virginity has never before been a particular whim of mine. I think perhaps it's the setting. Who knows how many virgins were deflowered here by my lusty ancestors? Or," he said as he deftly unpinned and tossed aside her apron, "maybe it's simply you."
"I don't..." Her words trailed off and then, interestingly, she blushed a deep rose. Well. That question settled, then. His little maiden was really a maiden. "What?"
"I think it's you," he confided, pulling the strings tying her hideous mobcap beneath her chin.
She made a wild grab for it, but he was faster, snatching the bloody thing off- finally, and with a great deal of satisfaction. She might've deprived him of a wife that it'd taken him half a year and a rather large sum of money to entangle, but by God, he'd taken off her awful cap.
And underneath...
"Oh, Séraphine," he breathed, enchanted, for her hair was as black as coal, as black as night, as black as his own soul, save for one white streak just over her left eye. But she'd twisted and braided and tortured the strands, binding them tight to her head, and his fingers itched to let them free.
"Don't!" she said, as if she knew what he wanted, her hands flying up to cover her hair.
He batted them aside, laughing, pulling a pin here, a pin there, dropping them carelessly to the carpet as she squealed like a little girl and backed away from him, trying frantically to ward off his fingers.
He might've taken pity on her had he not just spent an hour on a freezing moor, wondering if he was going to find her dead, neck broken, at the bottom of a hill.
Her hair came down all at once, a tumbling mass, tousled and heavy and nearly down to her waist.
"Wonderful," he murmured, taking it in both hands and lifting it.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Sin

“   He was so fascinated by the long single strand of black hair that he did not overflow his mind with fantasies about it, turning it into a hundred varieties of his imagination.
   He just sat there staring at it.
   Japanese hair.”
― Richard Brautigan, Sombrero Fallout

“Natural hair fiercely poppin’ on purpose.”
― Stephanie Lahart

“His hair dark as the sloes of a blackthorn, tumbled around his cheeks.”
― Holly Black, How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories

“I always loved that our hair was the same color. Inky. Black as night. And when we put our heads close together, you couldn't see where I began, and she ended. The colors are different now, but it doesn't matter. Noora and I are evergreen, a single note that will always resolve itself.”
― Emiko Jean, Tokyo Dreaming

“The Afro hair has been our natural crown since the beginning of time. But down the line we got manipulated into hating and removing it.”
― Mitta Xinindlu

“Macon Saint was the devil. Anyone with a lick of sense knew it. Unfortunately, when it came to Macon, none of my fellow classmates at Shermont High School seemed to possess the sense that God gave them. No, they'd all fawn over him as though her were a god. I suspected that was the true mark of the devil: turning people into starry-eyed fools when they ought to know better.
Not that I could blame them. Beauty made fools of us all. Macon had the face of an angel--- so beautiful you wondered if it truly had been sculpted by the hand of God, black hair so thick and glossy it might well have had a halo floating over it.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy