Helen Smith has long been devoted to working with children. From daycare centers and classrooms to community hubs throughout Pittsburgh, she dedicated years to fostering young minds.
However, one issue weighed heavily on her heart: Black children grappling with the acceptance of their natural hair. Too often, she would hear them refer to their curls as “nappy,” expressing frustration and embarrassment that echoed the negativity inherited from previous generations.
Inspired by her journey of self-acceptance and a desire to instill confidence in those youths, Smith wrote My Hair Ain’t Nappy — a vibrant love letter, an affirmation of self-worth, and a playful challenge to the idea that only certain types of hair are considered good.
“I knew that I wasn’t just writing this book for Black children,” Smith tells Pittsburgh City Paper. “I was also writing it to heal the inner child in me.”
My Hair Ain’t Nappy tells the story of Amara, a confident young girl who loves her natural hair and embraces its versatility and uniqueness. Through Amara’s journey, Smith hopes to reshape how Black children see their hair — and themselves.
Black hair has, for centuries, been at the center of societal scrutiny and discrimination. During slavery, African hairstyles were often forcibly shaved off as a way to strip enslaved people of their identity. Eurocentric beauty standards dominated, pushing the idea that straighter hair was the proper and professional way to present oneself.
Smith came of age surrounded by these messages. “I grew up in an era where most people were getting relaxers and straightening their hair all the time,” she recalls. “It makes you feel like your hair has to be a certain way to be acceptable.”
Looking back, Smith realized her journey to writing My Hair Ain’t Nappy wasn’t just motivated by her work with kids — it started much earlier, in high school, with her friend Amirah, the namesake of the book’s main character.
“One day, she came to school with this big, beautiful Afro,” Smith says. “At the time, not a lot of people were wearing their hair like that. [Amirah] just said, ‘I’m going natural. I’m done putting relaxers in my hair.’”
To teenage Smith, this was a radical statement. Amirah was boldly rejecting societal norms. And she wasn’t just changing her look — she was changing the conversation.
“She told me, ‘Our hair is not nappy, and we shouldn’t use that word because it has such a negative connotation,’” Smith says.
That moment stuck with her. Even as she grew older and, like many Black women, experimented with wigs and straightening her hair, Amirah’s words echoed in her mind. Black hair wasn’t something to be fixed — it was something to be celebrated.
Even in modern times, Black children have been punished in schools for wearing their natural hair in styles like afros, braids, or locs. Workplace discrimination against Black hair is so prevalent that laws like the CROWN Act have been passed to protect individuals from being penalized for their natural texture.
When Smith heard a young girl at the community center complain about her nappy hair, it all came full circle.
Smith connected with J & I Publishing LLC, a Pittsburgh-born artist based in Atlanta, and the collaboration felt like fate. “She was a Black woman, so I felt like she would really understand my vision,” Smith explains. “We went page by page, illustration by illustration, making sure every image captured the essence of the story.”
Her illustrator brought My Hair Ain’t Nappy to life visually, and helped Smith gain confidence in her writing. “She told me, ‘Your book can be whatever you want it to be.’ That meant so much to me,” Smith says.
So far, the response to Smith’s creation has been overwhelmingly positive. One reviewer on Amazon wrote, “Books like this will allow young melanin girls and boys to understand the importance of hair and where it thrives from… It also educates all cultures about Black hair and influences self-love.”
Another praised Smith for turning a negative stereotype into a source of empowerment, saying, “This book enables kids, especially those of African American descent, to embrace their true and unique identity.”
Smith hopes her book encourages parents and educators to be more mindful of the language they use. “Sometimes we don’t realize that we’re teaching kids to dislike their own hair,” she says. “When you say things like, ‘She has good hair,’ what message are you sending to a child who doesn’t have that texture?”
She also hopes to see more books like hers in schools and libraries. “We need more books that celebrate Black hair,” Smith says. “Not just for Black kids, but for everyone. The more people understand and appreciate Black hair, the closer we get to breaking down those negative stereotypes.
“I think it’s important for Black people to love being Black,” she says. “We’ve been taught for so long to dislike certain things about ourselves, but we need to reprogram how we see ourselves. Self-love starts young, and I want every Black child to know they are beautiful — just as they are.”
This article appears in Feb 5-11, 2025.
