If you ask just about any curly-haired girl who grew up in Australia (or any Western country), they’ll tell you the journey to love their hair has been a long and heavily involved process. Odds are, they’re probably still on it.
Growing up, one of the first things I clocked about my appearance — and wanted to change — was my curly hair. I watched as my mum would straighten hers every single day, and would go to school and notice how all the girls that the boys liked the most had easy, tame, pin straight hair. Mine, on the contrary, was big, frizzy and an easy target for people to pick on.
I would beg my mum to straighten my hair at every opportunity. And when it wasn’t straightened, it was pulled back tightly into plaits, so I could look as similar to the other girls as possible.
Unfortunately, this is a pretty universal experience.
It wasn’t until I was 22-years-old that I started embracing my natural hair texture, nursing it back to health and treating it with love. If it wasn’t for ‘the bowl method’ going viral on TikTok, I probably wouldn’t have started my curly hair journey. But curly hair creators started popping up more and more on my TikTok feed, and I thought it was about time I stopped trying to hide the hair I was born with.
The curl community on social media has been a safe space for people like myself to learn, grow and experiment with our hair. But while its a safe space for consumers of the content to embrace their hair, creators are often subject to ridicule from the ‘curl police’, turning comment sections into nasty places picking individuals apart.
“These individuals often challenge the authenticity of someone’s hair — questioning whether it’s naturally curly or ‘curly enough’ to be valid,” curly content creator, Jayme Jo Massoud, told PEDESTRIAN.TV.
It’s the kind of policing that turns what’s supposed to be an uplifting environment sour, filling it with exclusion and judgement.
Jayme said that she’s been experiencing these sorts of comments since she started posting content online, and that they’re not always easy to brush off. “I’ve faced ongoing accusations of ‘faking’ my natural texture, usually based on my styling techniques or product use.”
“What’s been especially challenging is seeing these doubts come from within a community that’s meant to be a safe space — a place where curly-haired people can feel seen, supported, and celebrated.”
“Despite years of sharing my journey openly and contributing to the growth of this space, I still find myself the subject of debates over my curl type, as if that somehow invalidates my identity or experience.”
As the curly hair community grows online, so does its members’ need to ‘protect’ the warm and welcoming space they’ve created. People scrutinise what’s defined as ‘curly’, and whether wavy hair and looser curl types belong in the same space.
Jayme explained that for some, seeing people with looser curls use styling brushes or products to help define and enhance their natural texture can be frustrating for those with tighter coils that have experienced negativity for their hair texture.
“It’s a reminder of how even inclusive spaces can become exclusionary when gatekeeping takes hold, and how important it is to keep pushing for representation in all its forms,” Jayme said.
And the curly hair community is understandably protective about the space they’ve created. Except, the helicopter parenting of the space that’s supposed to be inclusive is sometimes taken a little too far.
“In trying to keep it safe and inclusive, defensiveness can arise — a natural response rooted in years of marginalisation,” Jayme pointed out.
“Ultimately, this reflects a deeper issue: the pain many have faced embracing their natural hair. We’ve come a long way, but there’s still work to do to ensure every curly girl feels seen, heard, and truly welcome.”
It’s no thanks to the negative curly-girl representation we’ve grown up watching in films, TV and media. While I adore a ’90s or early 2000s teen drama, I always noticed my hair type was the ‘before’ of the main character’s glow-up transformation, never the ‘after’.
Jayme agreed that positive representation, especially in Australian media, was rarely celebrated.
“Social media has played a pivotal role in challenging outdated beauty standards,” Jayme said.
“I had spent years resenting my hair, never imagining that so many others felt the same. That shared experience created an unexpected community — one that not only supported each other but began to collectively dismantle the harsh stereotypes around textured hair.”
While the curl police might still lurk in comment sections, the bigger picture is clear: representation of textured hair is finally evolving. Creators continue to show up and educate their followers on how to shift the narrative and start embracing their curls rather than hide them through heat damage.
And although Jayme cops criticism from a small group of curl gatekeepers, she said that the community has transformed her life in ways she could never have imagined.
“As a young girl with low self-esteem who was often teased and taught to hide her hair, finding this online space felt like breaking free,” she expressed.
“I will forever be the biggest fan of my curly followers. They are the reason I continue to show up, and they remind me constantly why this work matters.”
Image credit: @jaymejo / @spicecurlgirl
The post Jayme Jo On TikTok’s Curl Police And The Toxic Culture Festering In The Community appeared first on PEDESTRIAN.TV .
