Her hair doesn’t have to be your cup of tea, but the way you speak about it matters.
On Dec. 19th, Nara Smith posted a video in her typical, high-fashion manner: wearing a no-doubt expensive dramatic dress with white and black blooms and preparing Oreo cookie ice-cream sandwiches as a treat for the holiday season. However, it was not her outfit that caused a sensation in the comments, but her hairstyle.
Smith wore a braided hairstyle winding like halos around her head. Her hair looked beautiful, exemplifying Black creativity. Others, however, had different opinions. Backhanded and microaggressive compliments followed, and some viewers even assumed her hairstyle was satire:
“It’s giving biblical angel,” one commenter wrote. Another said she was “ragebaiting everybody and being so goddamn funny at the same time it’s hilarious.” “It’s giving Cindy Lou who. Love it!!” one person said. Another comment said, “Istg her humor is too niche for yall no one understands how funny this woman is” (@veyreli, 2025)
Some responses were more thoughtful: “I don’t know who Cindy Lou is but (South African) girlies have been doing these styles forever and it even dates back 600 years ago,” (@peaches365_za, 2025).
I am not the biggest fan of Nara Smith, but her rise to social media fame and her response to it have been fascinating to watch. I am especially intrigued by how audiences react to the way she presents herself.
Smith’s popularity grew not only because of her cooking-from-scratch but also because of her proximity to whiteness. Smith is actually half German and half South African, and she often wears her hair straightened, as opposed to its naturally curly state. The only time she previously wore a traditionally African hairstyle was box braids before going into labor. Soon after, some white women began to call them “Nara Smith braids,” sparking outrage within the Black community.
After receiving backlash from Black viewers, Smith posted videos explaining that her straightened hair is more manageable for her eczema. Still, her white audience continues to deny her Blackness.
Hair has always been a form of expression and artistry in the Black community, especially for Black women. I am no stranger to this. Ideas about “good hair,” meaning looser hair and “bad hair” meaning tighter, coarser hair — hair like mine — led to years of trying to make my own hair something it is not.
Threading was a staple in my home. My mom used a thick black thread, looping it around from root to end, keeping the hair stretched, and then structuring it like a crown above my head. Whenever she told me to wear it to school, I felt embarrassed that my hair looked different from my classmates’. Kids mocked me for having short or “weird” hair because they did not understand the concept of shrinkage and had already internalized society’s standards around “good hair.”
When the natural hair movement revived during the 2010s, I was in awe of how versatile Black hair could be. I saw references to traditional hairstyles such as African threading (which my mother calls plaits) alongside Black Americans’ braided versions of the architectural hairstyles. The braids formed to make clouds, flowers, and anything under the sun with a structure only possible with the hair’s natural ability to defy gravity.
So when comments suggesting that Smith “must be joking” began to flood in, I was not surprised, but I felt a familiar sinking feeling. However, Smith’s branding and the audience it attracted helped shape that reaction. The hairstyle was unlike any other hairstyle she had ever posted on her page. For an audience expecting her “polished,” high-fashion, palatable version of Blackness, the look came as a shock. It also quickly opened the door to racist commentary.
Many viewers tried to accredit the hairstyle to the character Cindy Lou Who from Dr. Seuss’ “The Grinch Who Stole Christmas.” This is by far my least favorite comment. Why is it more believable that Nara Smith, a Black woman, is wearing a hairstyle inspired by a white woman rather than by the Black women who have been wearing creative hairstyles of the like for centuries? The comparison assumes her hairstyle was a joke instead of an intentional and earnest choice.
In a follow-up video captioned “The girls that get it, get it,” Smith expressed excitement about collaborating with Black hairstylist Kayra Theodore, pushing back against claims that she was simply joking. Yet the video sidestepped the importance and historical significance of Black creativity through hair and did little to stop viewers from mocking her style or denying her Blackness.
Although many comments might be ragebait, they reveal something important. Nara Smith does not have to constantly remind viewers that she is half Black, but that silence comes with audience consequences. It also exposes how much ignorance still surrounds Black hair. I feel exhausted watching Black commenters try to educate people who refuse to listen or are simply pretending to do so through outrageous comments.
Even in 2026, conversations about Black hair reveal a disheartening amount of blatant ignorance and racism many claim no longer exists.
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