Kevin Holt, “‘I Come In The Club Shaking My Dreads’: Locs and the Formation
of a New Southern Black Politic”
Locs have a complex and storied history in black style. Often associated with gestures
in reconnecting to mythic black authenticities and Afro-centric political/religious
movements (e.g. Rastafarianism and Ifa), they have consistently announced various
stances along the spectrum of pro-blackness since the mid-20 th century. Today locs are
extremely common among hip-hop artists from Atlanta. I argue that crunk artists
incorporated locs into their fashions, not as a continuation of the earlier movements, but
as a novel gesture in pro-black disrespectability politics, to borrow from Brittany
Cooper’s deconstruction of ratchetness. The gesture of “shaking your dreads” exists as
a multivalent expression of authentic and un-contained blackness that connotes an
affinity with black radicalism and an eschewing of the “respectable” self-presentation
and/or overt political posturing often expected of the predecessors who wore them. My
proposed paper offers an exploration of this dynamic, following artists like Lil Jon, the
Migos, and Crime Mob.
Alfred Soto, “Make It Straight: Hair Involutions and Revolutions in Male UK Glam Rock”
No male singer sported better hair in rock than Bryan Ferry, Thick, dark, lustrous, it had a sheen
like a new Ferrari, which made Ferry the ideal lead singer and songwriter for Roxy Music. Fans
could trace the evolution of Roxy through his follicle revolutions: from the immobile pompadour
of the early years to the moist loosely combed locks of the Avalon-era
I will demonstrate how the coifs of male glam rock icons and their musical choices
complemented each other. David Bowie’s post-mod wet blanket during the Hunky Dory era
matched his quiet subversions of singer-songwriter rock, followed by the magnificent henna-hair
cockatoo of Ziggy Stardust. The insouciant curls and the in-your-face flash of Marc Bolan and
the New York Dolls. As the acts entered the 1980s, I will show how the age offered divergent
paths: a more conservative look for Ferry and in the case of Bowie a regrettable attempt to out-
mullet contemporaries (Bolan, alas, didn’t live to realize his metal guru dreams).
Finally, I will explain the nexus between hair and sexuality. While Bowie’s protean sartorial
shifts suggested polymorphous curiosity, Ferry’s adherence to Old World glamour effaced his
sexual presentation such that he metamorphosed into a Holy Spirit of Tremulous Melancholy by
the time shoulder pads became acceptable fashion for ‘80s men. Things bottomed out at the end
of the decade when Jesus & Mary Chain sang “I don’t care ‘bout the state of my hair” like snotty
kids picking on Grandpa.
Rhonda Nicole Tankerson, “‘I Just Don't Believe It's Fair’: How Black Women Artists
Use Hair as Symbols of Resistance and Revolution”
“People ask me everywhere, is that really all of your hair? I just tell ‘em if it ain’t, that it sho’ don’t
mean that now I can’t. I just don’t believe it’s fair to judge [a girl] by the length of [her] hair.”
For Black folks across the Diaspora but particularly in America, hair is a subject that has, for
generations, evoked conflicting sentiments of pride, shame, rebellion, and assimilation. In this
funk-laden cut from Graham Central Station’s eponymous 1974 album, bassist and band leader
Larry Graham is likely referencing the Afro–his and others’, one of the most popular and distinct
styles of the 1970s. As Prince would remind us in the mid-2010s, “An afro is not a hairstyle.”
When the Purple One, the Queen of Funk Chaka Khan, and Graham collaborated on an
updated version of the song for Khan’s 1998 NPG Records release Come to My House, “Hair”
took on an even more nuanced meaning being performed by a Black woman musician
renowned for her beautiful, bountiful mane.
Black women’s hair is an eternal site of tension, empowerment, political thought and action.
Nowhere is this more evident than in Black women artists’ follicular expression: from The
Supremes’ perfectly styled wigs to Patti Labelle’s sculpted crown, to Tina Turner’s golden rock
goddess tresses to Chloe and Halle’s majestic locs. For decades, Black women practitioners of
gospel, blues, pop, R&B, funk, and hip-hop have set the trends, embraced and rejected
conventional beauty expectations, and advanced critical conversations through their hair. Black
women musicians’ hair functions as fashion, art, and documentation of the socio-political climate
of the times, and perhaps foreshadows what is to come in entertainment and commerce. In this
presentation, I will explore how Black women music artists’ hair serves as a source of resistance
and revolution.
Alex Diaz-Hui, “Makeup, Hair Salons, and Style in Reggaetón and Latin Trap”
This listening session focuses women and queer emcees in reggaetón and Latin trap
who develop their musical identities through makeup, hair, and fashion. We will begin
with Ivy Queen, often known as La Reina de Reggaetón (The Queen of Reggaetón),
whose performances and interviews often center on her extravagant nails and outfits.
Critics have acknowledged how the political and social critique of Ivy Queen’s music
comes from the interplay between her lyricism and a look centered on her nails and
makeup. Scholars also consider how these looks rely on a contradictory relationship
with anti-blackness in Puerto Rico. Our discussion of hair and makeup in reggaetón and
Latin trap will consider how the genre’s origins come from different sites of musical
circulation that have conflicting traditions and perspectives. Regardless of these
contradictions, Ivy Queen is regarded as one of the early women emcees to receive
airplay on the island and its diaspora. Her work juxtaposes her nails, hairstyles, and
outfits with songs that speak out against police violence and men who pressure women
at nightclubs. Her song “Quiero Bailar” (“I Want to Dance”) has since been used as an
anthem for feminist movements throughout Puerto Rico because of its call for women to
dance without feeling pressured to go home with the men they dance with. This listening
session begins with Ivy Queen’s early performances, both in The Noise and selections
from her debut and sophomore albums, En Mi Imperio and The Original Rude Girl. We
will focus on music videos to “Quiero Bailar” and “In the Zone” to grasp the range of
looks that defined her rise as one of the key icons of old-school reggaetón. We will see
how “Quiero Bailar” inspires makeup trends on TikTok that have channeled recent
attention to her work throughout North America.
The second half of the listening session will focus on Ivy Queen’s contemporary
performances, collaborations, and influence on women in developing scenes in Latin
trap between Puerto Rico, Chile, and Argentina. “Mami” by Paloma Mami interpolates
lyrics from “Quiero Bailar” to narrativize rejecting a man’s advances. Latin trap
superstars Young Miko and Villano Antillano have both discussed Ivy Queen’s role in
their musical upbringing and often allude to makeup trends in the early 2000s. Ivy
Queen also has collaborated with women in contemporary Latin trap, including Maria
Becerra. We will discuss how these artists use the form of the music video to visualize
Latinidad through makeup, fixing one's hair, and the act of getting ready for a night out.
We will compare these looks and ask how they are inspired by, and sometimes
appropriate, aesthetics from hip-hop and American popular music. Time will also be
given for the group to share songs that resonate with these concerns of style, gender,
and rebellion in modern music, including Princess Nokia, and Kali Uchis, among others.
Participants are welcome to bring makeup.
