Culture is ever-evolving, shifting, adapting, and crossing borders. But when does cultural exchange become cultural appropriation? We explore the ongoing debate over who truly owns traditional Black hairstyles and who has the right to wear them.

From Bo Derek’s iconic cornrows in the 1979 film “10” to Kim Kardashian’s 2018 “Bo Derek braids” controversy, the debate over who gets to wear traditional Black hairstyles is nothing new. But every so often, a fresh controversy reignites the debate. This time, it’s Natalie Reynolds, a social media influencer with 2.3 million followers and over 45 million likes. Reynolds recently posted videos showcasing her braided hairstyle, referring to them as “Viking-inspired,” with no acknowledgment of their deep African roots. The videos went viral, not just for the style but for the backlash that followed.

A lot of people from the Black community quickly pointed out that her braids closely resembled Fulani braids, a traditional African style with profound cultural significance. Others pointed out the stark double standard: Why is it that Black people have been penalised, stigmatised, and even denied job opportunities for wearing these styles, while white influencers receive admiration for doing the same?

Others defended Reynolds, arguing that braiding is not exclusive to African cultures, noting that Vikings also wore plaited cornrows hairstyles. But beyond this online debate lies a deeper question: Why does it matter who gets credit for these styles?

Dr. Emma Groves, a historian specialising in African studies, unpacks why this seemingly ordinary act can stir such profound emotions.

“To truly understand the debate, we need to recognise that at its heart lies a complex web of history, power, and societal dynamics.

For Black people, hair has never been just hair. It exists in a space of love, pain, self-expression, and oppression—a reality that continues to shape our cultural identity as people of colour,” she explains.

Dr. Groves highlights the deep historical significance of braiding in Black cultures.

According to her, before European colonialism and the transatlantic slave trade, African communities had no negative associations with their natural hair or their hairstyles.

In fact, hair played a significant role in cultural identity, reflecting everything from tribal affiliations to social status. 

She says, “ We know from historical records that in West Africa, among the Yoruba and Wolof people, intricate braiding patterns symbolised a person’s lineage, marital status, and even their profession.

In Central Africa, the Mangbetu people of present-day Congo were known for their elaborate, sculpted braids, which accentuated the elongated shape of their heads—a feature associated with nobility and intelligence. In East Africa, Maasai warriors in Kenya and Tanzania often braided their hair and dyed it with red ochre as a symbol of strength and bravery. Meanwhile, in Southern Africa, groups like the Himba in Namibia use braids mixed with a paste of ochre and butter to signify different life stages, such as puberty, marriage, or motherhood. These styles were more than just decorative; they were a means of communication, a living archive of history, and an assertion of cultural pride. 

That changed dramatically with slavery. Enslaved Africans were often forcibly shaved upon capture, stripping them of their cultural markers and reducing them to property.”

Dr. Emma further explains that during the transatlantic slave trade, braiding evolved beyond cultural expression. It became a tool of survival and resistance. Between the 1500s and 1800s, millions of Africans, including West African rice farmers, were forcibly taken to the Americas. In an act of quiet defiance, many braided rice seeds into their hair, ensuring they carried a piece of home and a source of sustenance to unknown lands. 

 She explains that Hair also became a medium of covert resistance, which means that hair was used as a secret or subtle way to resist oppression. enslaved Africans used cornrows to create intricate patterns that were used as secret escape maps, helping them navigate their way to freedom while avoiding detection.

​​Dr. Emma also points out that even after emancipation, the stigma surrounding Black hair persisted for generations.

For generations, Black hair has been at the center of discrimination, with natural styles like braids, locs, afros, and crownrolls unfairly dismissed as “unprofessional” or “unkempt.”  says Dr. Emma.

And there is research to back her claims. For instance, a 2023 research study by The CROWN Act revealed that Black women are 80% more likely to change their natural hair to conform to social norms or workplace expectations. Additionally, they are 1.5 times more likely to be sent home from work because of their hair.

But the issue starts far earlier than adulthood. More than half (53%) of Black mothers reported that their young daughters experienced hair discrimination as early as age five. Additionally, 45% of Black teenagers recalled facing microaggressions about their hair in school.

Dr. Emma also explains that the anger surrounding cultural appropriation in Black communities isn’t just about borrowing but about a long-known systemic exploitation of Black culture. She calls this pattern “Black Pioneers, White Beneficiaries”, highlighting how Black cultural innovation fuels industries that rarely reward its originators.

She explains that historically, Black artists and creators have pioneered many trends in music, fashion, dance, and language, only to see their contributions exploited by mainstream (often white) artists who gain commercial success without acknowledgment. This pattern, from the early days of rock and roll to modern TikTok trends, underscores how cultural influence doesn’t always translate into financial or social equity.

This, she explains, is rooted in power dynamics: Who controls the narrative? Who profits? Who is erased? Platforms like Instagram, TikTok, and YouTube amplify this dynamic. When viral dances or fashion trends originate from Black creators but gain widespread popularity through white influencers, it’s not just a cultural shift; it’s an economic one.

“To some, this may seem like an overreaction. But when a group that has historically faced discrimination for something sees it suddenly celebrated when worn by others, it raises a difficult question: Why is Blackness only acceptable when it’s removed from Black people?” she says.

But Didn’t Vikings Wear Braids, Too?

Those arguing that braided styles and dreadlocks originate from Viking traditions point to historical evidence of Nordic warriors wearing plaited hairstyles. 

Dr. Clare Downham, an expert in Viking history who specialises in the study of Vikings in Britain and Ireland, explains that although Vikings took pride in grooming and hairstyling, evidenced by the frequent discovery of combs in Viking graves. However, the idea that Vikings commonly wore dreadlocks or elaborate braids owes more to modern imagination than to historical fact.

She says, “The media has played a significant role in shaping our perceptions of Vikings. The images portrayed in movies and TV shows rely more on contemporary interpretations than on historical evidence of what Vikings truly looked like.”

Dr. Downham also points out two main reasons why certain hairstyles, such as dreadlocks and braids, appear in modern Viking portrayals:

She says: “I was talking to a friend who’s a Viking reenactor and an expert as well, and we considered two possible reasons why these hairstyles appear in modern media portrayals. First, The Reinvention of Viking Aesthetics

“In the 19th century, Viking warriors were given horned helmets. Though they never actually wore them, this image made them appear different, countercultural, and fierce. In the same way, today’s TV and film creators might use alternative hairstyles, including dreadlocks, to cultivate a ‘wild warrior’ aesthetic rather than adhering to historical accuracy.”

“Second, The Influence of Viking Reenactors. Some Viking reenactors themselves wear dreadlocks or alternative hairstyles. Since Viking reenactment is a slightly alternative lifestyle, many reenactors adopt unconventional looks. When media creators seek inspiration, they often turn to reenactors who may unknowingly reinforce inaccurate depictions of Viking hairstyles.”

According to Dr. Clare, Viking braids were primarily practical, used by Norse warriors to keep hair out of their faces. They didn’t hold the same deep social and historical significance as Black braiding traditions.

She says, “What we do know, from Viking graves and their well-preserved grooming tools, is that appearance and hair care were important to them, just not in the way we often imagine today. For their women, long hair was a symbol of status. Maintaining and growing long, well-kept hair was a sign of wealth and prestige. The most common high-status female hairstyle was a long ponytail, sometimes knotted at the back a style some call an ‘Irish knot,’ though there’s no particular reason to think it’s specifically Irish.”

“We do have pictorial images. In stonework, that depicts braids were commonly worn by male warriors.  Although when they appear, they seem to loose, thick braids and are wrapped around the forehead, almost like a band. Some coin imagery even suggests that Viking men might have styled their hair upward, using something like an early form of hair gel.”

Where Should the Line Be Drawn? 

As the backlash against Reynolds continues to unfold, the discussion forces us to ask deeper questions: How do we ensure cultural appreciation rather than appropriation? How do we challenge double standards in beauty and professionalism? And most importantly, when will Black culture be valued as much as it is borrowed?

Legal scholar Susan Scafidi has spent years dissecting this delicate balance, particularly in her book, Who Owns Culture?, where she delves into the ethics of cultural borrowing, ownership, and the emotional and economic impact of appropriation.

Her book explains that one of the key distinctions is intent versus impact. While someone may borrow from another culture with admiration, the impact of that borrowing matters more than the intent. When a dominant group adopts a marginalised culture’s traditions, it often gains social capital from something the original community was once penalised for. 

The challenge, then, is not to stop cultural exchange but to navigate it with responsibility. Scafidi suggests that credit, collaboration, and historical awareness are key to distinguishing cultural appreciation from appropriation. Engaging with a culture in a way that benefits the originating community, whether through fair trade, partnerships, or proper attribution, ensures that cultural sharing remains ethical rather than exploitative.

Dr. Emma warns against getting lost in historical disputes, which can sometimes distract from the larger issue at hand.

She says, “It’s crucial to have well-informed discussions about cultural history, but we must also recognise the broader social and racial dynamics at play. The real issue isn’t just whether Vikings wore braids. The focus should be on dismantling racial bias and ensuring that all cultural traditions are respected, rather than getting caught up in divisive historical debates.”