Curly hair is art in motion — untamed, unpredictable, and endlessly captivating. Each curl bends the rules, twisting into shapes that no brush could ever command, carrying a beauty that shifts with its mood. When dry, it flares into a halo of texture, bold and unapologetic, but when moisturised, it deepens into glossy coils, rich with definition and grace. Between chaos and elegance, curls hold a magic: they are never the same twice, yet always beautiful.
But the weight of class aesthetics that birthed rigid beauty standards, for several decades, demanded a laborious conformity that sought to erase curls altogether. They aimed at straightening, smoothening, and reshaping curls into something they were never meant to be. The story of Malcolm X, an African American revolutionary, who straightened his hair everyday in prison, goes to show how deep rooted the self-hate imposed by white supremacy was.
Salon workers even peddled this agenda, since many lacked the skill to cut curly hair with the same ease as straight hair. Refusal or inability to comply, often carried a price, with mocking labels attached. Even within the Tamil context, those who embraced their natural curls were dismissed with names like “thenganaar”, “noodles”, and “velakamaaru”, turning texture into a target. And while the mission to tame curly hair was already relentless, the burden doubled for Indian women — because heaven forbid they let their wild curls loose and risk being seen as “untamed.” They had to comb it down, pin it up in a bun or secure it in plaits.
Against this backdrop, the Curly Girl Method (CGM) arose as a quiet rebellion that celebrated natural curls by ditching harsh products that contain silicone, sulphates, drying alcohol, waxes and certain non-natural oils, in addition to ditching heat for gentle, moisture-rich care. What began globally as a rebellion against the straightening culture, found its way to India in the mid-2010s, sparking a wave of curl pride by 2019. Yazhini, an enterprise strategy consultant from Chennai says, “It was when I joined the workforce that I realised that my hair can actually look better and make me feel good since I’d been chasing the dream of straight hair all my life. The fact that my natural hair could look beautiful with care, was a lovely revelation and so I started experimenting with CGM products.” For Subhiksha T, an architect, discovering CGM was relieving. Manonmani, a mechanical design engineer, corroborates. “In 2017, Arata ads started popping up on my Instagram feed. I still remember following an influencer (@honestlizhere) who followed CGM. It was my first time seeing curly hair being advertised and it felt really good,” she says. The relief, she adds, was because, “My whole childhood, I disregarded my hair as being messy and equated it to being dirty and untidy. Whether I was under that impression due to my insecurities or if it was inflicted upon, I cannot be sure. My mom always asked me to tidy my hair, that hasn’t helped either. At least 20% of my brain space is always, even now, occupied by how my hair is and what it looks like.”
But before empowerment could take deep root, brands and extensive marketing rushed in, turning curl pride into a commodity. Capitalism therefore, transformed what began as a respite from harsh and damaging beauty labour into yet another demanding and expensive ritual involving multi-step routines that has today, turned caring for curls feel like a luxury rather than liberation. Subhiksha exclaims, “Honestly, I can’t keep up with the rising prices, the sheer number of products being pushed for curly hair, and the time it takes to follow the routine. It feels endless!” Nithya P, a journalist also points out, “The number of products to use to attain the ‘perfect’ wavy/curly hair have increased. Basic products like shampoo, conditioner, cream, set-in-gel, and serum would all solidly cost more than four thousand. But there is also no guarantee that you will get the ‘perfect’ curls/waves despite following all the right methods.”
Manonmani goes one step further and compares the price of gels for curly hair with gels for non-curly hair and reports that the former is a lot more expensive in comparison today. Yazhini even compares the inflated price tag of curly haircuts and products, to the pink tax — where products and services marketed for women are priced higher despite being essentially the same as men’s. Similar to the pink tax, people with curly hair are charged significantly more for haircuts, products, and treatments, when compared to those with straight hair, even though the services are essentially the same baseline offering. She, therefore believes that both cases involve a kind of exploitation of identity-based needs [gender in the pink tax, hair texture here], turning them into profit opportunities and also steering the trend far away from self-acceptance.
Confusion over clarity
Yazhini also laments about how difficult it is to understand the curly hair products that are available in the market, such as hair butter and mousse; and even suspects that it feels as though brands have “purposefully strategised a method to create confusion over clarity.” Owing to this confusion, Aradhana, a student, confesses to constantly questioning her CGM choices. She says that she is flooded with thoughts such as, ‘Am I doing this right? or am I missing out on some step or product?’ Namitha Rachel, a student, explains this confusion like this: “It’s one of those loopholes where if you use, say product A, you might have to use product B to manage some of the problems product A might create, but then you’ll get best results if you also use products C & D. It is crazy out there.”
Besides this, comes the confusion over the quantity of product that one should use. Everyone reports that using too little product won’t bring results and even if they happen to overuse a product a little more than the ‘ideal’ amount, it can spoil the whole look they are going for. But the ‘ideal’ quantity that can bring results can always vary due to individual hair types and texture. Manonmani says that when she discovered the quantity that she must use on her hair to attain what influencers and brands are advertising, it led her to a “heartbreak.” “I went to a salon recently and they were really good at their services for curly hair. But the instructions they gave made me understand that I needed to use a whole lot of products to get what they have been showing in the advertisements,” she adds. When so many steps and products come into the picture, the time commitment, she says, becomes unrealistic for everyday life.
But men with curly hair have a whole other perspective on the quantity of product they use. Joshua V, a graphic designing freelancer, says, “I spent a lot of money and purchased what I thought were the right products. But because of my short hair length, I would end up using very little of the product. Since the steps and routines are also time-consuming, I would only follow the methods for occasions and before I knew it, the products expired. After a few years, I quit using them completely.”
Meanwhile, Nithya, after going through a plethora of videos and CGM products, not to mention spending thousands of rupees, flags, “None of these products were made by keeping in mind the humidity levels in South India, let alone the South Indian hair type.” This also comes as a shock since Bollywood has time and again stereotyped South Indians as dark skinned and curly haired, and yet, somehow, home-grown brands have missed making products for the very type the biggest entertainment industry has been typecasting all along.
Despite such drawbacks that led people to quit CGM, they confess to being judged and questioned in both personal and professional settings for not following CGM. They believe that although CGM has made curly hair more acceptable, not confirming to the now idealised appearances of curls, makes them face the brunt. At work, people respond differently on different days, knowingly or unknowingly, depending on how Yazhini wears her hair. Manonmani adds that the judgement and “looks” are received “more than one can imagine.”
The judgement, too, is often tangled with caste aesthetics. As Dharini, a video editor, points out, her brown skin, textured hair, and curls frequently makes people arrive at the assumption that she belongs to “a certain caste.” Even the seemingly harmless Tamil word “parattai” is commonly weaponised against the lowered caste in several ways. According to sources CE spoke to, the word denotes the condition of hair that hasn’t been oiled or maintained. By calling Dalits “parattai”, they denote the economic status of the lowered caste.
When all these beauty standards, caste/class aesthetics, and capitalist pressures are set aside, how would one imagine wearing and caring for their curls? Nithya says, she would wear it as it is and just use coconut oil and a mild shampoo. Dharini also echoes a similar response, a shampoo and a conditioner, but that she would “then finish it off with a serum to give a hydrated and glossy finish to my curls.” Yazhini says she would rather focus on the health of her hair than trying to attain a ‘perfect’ curly look. “A simple shampoo and conditioner that don’t have straightening ingredients and offer good nourishment and protection in addition to some sun protection spray or split end care once a month,” she adds. Manonmani, meanwhile, leaves the ‘wearing’ her curls part, up to her mood. “Like old Kollywood actresses; braided one day, frizzy and let down free the other day, weird double braided on some other day, and whatever else my mood deems fit,” she concludes.