The Symbol of Hair in Jasmine Mans’ Black Girl, Call Home

Introduction: Hair as a Loaded Object

In Jasmine Mans’ poetry collection Black Girl, Call Home, hair is never just hair. It appears as a literal substance—shorn, straightened, braided, combed for forensic evidence—and as a charged symbol of autonomy, cultural identity, and the rejection of conformity. The speaker’s journey toward self-acceptance is inseparable from how she wears her hair and how others touch, judge, or tend to it. By examining key poems and references, readers can trace how hair becomes a private battleground and a public declaration of reclaiming one’s body.

Literal Presence and Recurrence

Hair first appears in the collection’s opening chapter, titled “I Ain’t Gon’ Be Bald-Headed No More.” This declaration signals a past state of baldness—whether forced, chosen, or imposed by circumstance—and a present refusal to return to it. The speaker positions natural hair as an act of self-definition.

In Chapter 2, “Momma Has a Hair Salon in the Kitchen,” the domestic space is reimagined as a place of hair care. The title merges the intimate rituals of grooming with the mother’s domain. The poem itself does not describe hair; instead it focuses on Momma’s intense prayer style, but the title locates hair at the center of mother-daughter interaction.

Later, Chapter 31, “24 Hours After It Happens,” recounts a forensic exam after a sexual assault. One step instructs the survivor to “comb hair for DNA.” Here hair becomes evidence, a passive object subjected to clinical violation—a stark contrast to the agency implied in the opening chapter.

Chapter 88, “Image Description,” offers a visual portrait of Sandra Bland, whose “dreadlocks are short and hang backwards, some fluttering out of direction.” This precise description emphasizes that her hair resists neatness, mirroring the exhaustion and sorrow in her face. Bland’s hair is both personal style and public testament to a life cut short.

The collection also contains poems with titles like “Riddle for a Black Girl,” “Scars,” and “Fascinations,” none of which directly mention hair but contribute to the atmosphere of bodily scrutiny and self-examination that surrounds the motif.

How Hair’s Meaning Shifts

Across the collection, hair moves through several layers of meaning:

• Reclamation and Autonomy: The opening title rejects baldness, implying a history of having hair removed or hidden. Choosing natural hair is an act of coming home to oneself, a personal manifesto that sets the tone for the entire book.
• Domestic Care and Control: The “kitchen salon” in Chapter 2 suggests that hair care is an expression of maternal love, but also a space where Momma’s controlling personality—her way of “talking over God”—plays out. The daughter watches, learning both intimacy and constraint.
• Violation and Evidence: In the forensic poem, hair is no longer part of identity but a specimen. Combing for DNA reduces the survivor’s body to a crime scene, stripping away the agency the speaker fought to claim.
• Cultural and Political Marker: Sandra Bland’s dreadlocks, described in a public image, signify Black beauty and resistance. Her “tired eyes” and “lazy fashion” of holding her head contrast with the vitality her hair implies. The description quietly protests the violence that took her life.

Character and Theme Connections

The Speaker / Jasmine Mans

The speaker’s journey is defined by her relationship to her own hair. The opening declaration frames the entire collection as a movement from imposed baldness to chosen naturalness. This is not merely aesthetic; it is a refusal of conformity and a reclamation of bodily authority. Later poems about scars and secrets (Chapter 106, Chapter 32) suggest that this reclamation is ongoing and tied to deeper healing.

Explore more about the speaker on the character page for the speaker.

Momma (Mother)

Momma’s kitchen salon is a site of ritual care, but the poem “Momma Has a Hair Salon in the Kitchen” emphasizes her one-sided prayer style—she cannot hear God because she is too busy talking. This pattern of control extends to hair: the mother’s touch is both loving and dominating. In “Monologue: Mother Yells at (Insert Name of Black Girl Here)” (Chapter 86), the mother waves a wooden spoon, implying a kitchen setting that may include hair care as part of domestic discipline. The tension between care and control is central to the mother-daughter relationship theme.

Sandra Bland

Though not a recurring character, Sandra Bland appears in a single poem (“Image Description”). Her dreadlocks are described in forensic detail: “short and hang backwards, some fluttering out of direction.” The image captures her humanity and defiance. Bland’s hair is not straightened or tamed; it is naturally matted and worn. This portrayal connects to the theme of Black womanhood and resilience, as Bland becomes a martyr whose hair remains unruly even in death.

Thematic Resonance

• Identity and Self-Acceptance: The move from baldness to natural hair is an outward sign of inner reconciliation. See the identity and self-acceptance theme.
• Trauma and Healing: Hair becomes evidence of violation (forensic combing) and a site of healing (home salon). The trauma and healing theme is directly tied to bodily autonomy.
• Home and Belonging: The phrase “dial home” in the acknowledgments (Chapter 119) echoes the title. Hair, as something grown from the scalp, is part of the body one carries everywhere—an intimate home. The home and belonging page explores this further.

Study Questions with Answers

1. How does the opening chapter’s title “I Ain’t Gon’ Be Bald-Headed No More” set up hair as a symbol of agency?

The title announces a conscious refusal to remain bald, implying that the speaker previously had no choice. By vowing not to be “bald-headed no more,” she positions her hair as a site of personal liberation. The baldness may refer to childhood haircuts, illness, or societal pressure, but the declaration is an act of reclaiming her own body. Throughout the collection, this opening promise is tested by moments of violation (the forensic combing) and care (the kitchen salon), but the speaker’s insistence on natural hair remains a baseline assertion of self.

2. In what way does the kitchen salon in Chapter 2 link hair care to maternal control?

The title merges Momma’s domestic labor with the intimacy of hair care. The poem itself shows Momma praying “like she’s talking over God”—she monopolizes the conversation, implying a similar dynamic during hair styling. The daughter observes without speaking, suggesting that the salon is not purely nurturing but also a space where Momma’s will dominates. This duality mirrors the complex love and control that characterize many mother-daughter relationships in the book.

3. How does the forensic combing in Chapter 31 strip hair of its personal meaning?

In “24 Hours After It Happens,” the instruction to “comb hair for DNA” reduces hair to biological evidence. It is no longer an expression of identity but a material sample to be bagged and catalogued. The survivor’s permission is asked, but the examiner admits they cannot truly promise to stop at any moment. This clinical detachment contrasts sharply with the intimate, purposeful combing a mother might do in her kitchen. Hair becomes a record of trauma rather than a symbol of self.

4. Why does the image description of Sandra Bland emphasize the direction of her dreadlocks?

The line “dreadlocks are short and hang backwards, some fluttering out of direction” insists on the physicality of Bland’s hair. “Out of direction” suggests both literal disorder and the injustice she suffered. Unlike the neat, controlled hair expected of Black women in public life, Bland’s locks resist order. The description humanizes her—she is tired, sorrowful, yet still present. Her hair becomes a quiet emblem of resistance against the systems that killed her.

Conclusion

Hair in Black Girl, Call Home is never neutral. It grows from the scalp of a Black girl who must decide whether to cut it, straighten it, or let it be. It is combed by a mother’s hands, collected as forensic evidence, and remembered in the portrait of a woman who died. Through these recurrences, Jasmine Mans builds a motif that moves from personal reclamation to cultural testimony. The speaker’s final act, implied by the book’s title, is to call home—and part of that call is learning to wear one’s hair as naturally as one speaks one’s truth.