Nappily Ever After Shook Heads…Literally
“Just wondering if you could do something with your hair tonight…make it straight,” Clint (Ricky Whittle) timidly asks his fiancée.
In a Netflix Original movie based on the first installment of Trisha R. Thomas’ eight-book series, Nappily Ever After unpacks “the culturally complicated conversation around black hair,” as Vanity Fair is quick to explain. Released on Sept. 21, the film follows an African-American woman’s journey of self-acceptance, a running theme that speaks volumes.
The movie’s opening scene illustrates a summer day at the community pool with main character, Violet Jones (Sanaa Lathan), gazing out into a deep chlorine abyss. Her hair freshly straightened, mother Paulette (Lynn Whitfield) earnestly warns her young daughter, who then catapults herself into the open waters below. Coming up for air, Violet’s once tamed do frizzed out completely, prompting a synchronized chant of “Chia Pet” from kids nearby.
Fast forward, Violet appears to have her life in order―good job, good man, good hair. What’s not to love? How about the moment where she anticipates a proposal on her birthday by her boyfriend of two years, Clint, only to receive a precious pooch. She expected a ring, but was instead confronted by the cold truth. How do you come back from hearing the man of your dreams tell you that your relationship has been nothing but “two years of first dates?”
The tables turn. A self-realization moment for Violet as she sheds the idea of perfectionism instilled in her by her appearance-obsessed mother. The struggle to maintain her physical beauty as a beloved daughter, girlfriend and thriving ad executive were no more.
In a dramatic scene of self-pity, Violet wallows away in sorrow as she lets go of her luscious locks. Clumps of hair fall to her feet as she shaves away, sobbing into a mirror.
The big chop. “Curl Centric” defines it as, “the act of taking your natural hair journey from transitioning to officially 100 percent natural in a matter of minutes.” This comes as an emotional step for many African-American women as they part with seemingly damaged hair in favor of cultivating uncontaminated new growth.
With Violet’s big chop complete and her mother in hysterics, she was well on her way to falling in love with herself. Rather than “put all of her attention on making sure her hair looks perfect, hoping her life will reflect it,” as The Daily Nebraskan claims, she instead finds comfort in the easy maintenance of the short style. Even experiencing a sudden confidence boost upon meeting a natural-hair stylist turned love interest (Lyriq Bent) in the film.
The heart ultimately wants what it wants in the end, signaled by a touching moment shared between Violet and Clint as they reunite. He proposes after seeing her blossom into a woman with purpose, one who values self-love before loving another.
Nappily Ever After is constructed to be a lighthearted romantic comedy, yet still manages to expose an issue deeply rooted in African-American culture. In an interview with Vanity Fair, Lathan mentions the need for such a film in “a real pivotal moment in history, where the old archaic ways of racism and gender ways are clashing against a new consciousness.”
Fostering a relationship with self-love at the core has since been a struggle for black women, dating back to years of slavery in which hair measured worth and intertwined with one’s identity. Harmful stereotypes have contributed to the widely perceived association of black hair with incivility. Vanity Fair points to a time where “ ‘good’ black women—house servants like Hattie McDaniel’s Mammy in Gone with the Wind—have hair that’s wrapped up and kept away, tamed and under control. From the unapologetic Afros of the 1970s to the weaves revealed by hair-pulling fights on reality TV, black hair has continued to be political.”
Director Haifaa Al-Mansour sought to highlight this struggle through Violet, a protagonist at crossroads between maintenance of her vanity while submitting to societal standards, and an unapologetic acceptance of the woman she has grown to be.
The film’s ending may come as a surprise, but one that is most appropriate. Violet stands up to her mother and fiancée having done some soul searching in an effort to rid herself of a ruthless status quo. She desperately wonders what life would have been like if her mother accepted her natural hair rather than bring shame to it.
Straight hair is not necessarily the definition of perfection. Looks can be quite deceiving. The message? The cost of perfection is no match for embracing your individuality.
