That time Viola Davis said my Afro was cute

I met The Woman King star Viola Davis at a pivotal moment when both my hair journey and self-confidence were struggling — an experience that sparked a perspective shift that I needed. It was the fall of 2018, and I was deep into what the kids today call a “natural hair journey.” It was also a time where my only style choice was a simple afro. My hair is what’s colloquially known as “nappy,” a 4C curl pattern. It is not wash-and-go compliant. Such hair is still disagreeable in a society hellbent on making Black women conform to Eurocentric hair standards. Viola challenged this standard openly as a talented, dark-skinned, natural-coiled A-list actress.

That morning, my edges recoiled at the very mention of baby hair. I tried every product, YouTube trick and tutorial I knew to get my hair to at least hold a shape while I traveled by car to the junket. There was no way that I could meet Viola with a flat-back ‘fro!

Please do not mistake this as a commentary against natural hair culture. My struggle is just one story out of many generations of Black women who have wished to exist in this society in their most natural state, with coils as free and unapologetic as our white counterparts. But, we never had that luxury. In fact, 2019 saw the passing of The Crown Act, a law that prohibits racial discrimination based on a person’s hairstyle or hair texture or from wearing our hair in its natural state — the classic Afro, which was the preferred style of many Black women, outside of a braid or a wig style.

I drove for over an hour in morning traffic with my head leaned slightly forward so as not to smash the back of my hair. At some point, however, I must have relaxed my neck and let my head fall back because the back was a bit flat when I parked in a downtown Chicago lot.

Another enemy of the afro is wind. One strong wind and the whole structure collapses. I remembered this as I stood in the middle of the “The Windy City” on a day when the gusts were really kicking up. The source of the gales was Lake Michigan, which was so close to my location that I could touch it. While I managed to reshape my flat-backed ‘fro, I was not ready for the restructuring that the Lake Michigan winds caused on the three-block walk to my destination.

I got into the building to find a small stylist station. There, a woman helped me “fluff” my hair back to life using a cupped-hand technique. It gave me a softer, semi-angled coif, one that fit my face perfectly. I was ready for Viola.

The interview was a part of a press junket for the movie Widows, which I had seen at the Toronto International Film Festival. The film starred Viola as Liam Neeson’s wife. He played a criminal who died with his crew after a job gone wrong. The wives were left behind to figure out how to keep the funds flowing. Steve McQueen directed the film and wrote it alongside Gillian Flynn.

Each press member present was given four minutes with members of the cast and director. It was such a brief time that we only got to ask two questions at most. I need you to understand that I spent all day fussing over my hair, even across state lines, all for what was literally a brief moment in time.

That moment, however brief, changed my outlook on natural hair and my own authenticity forever. I walked over to the interview space when the junket team called me. Viola was sitting there in a baby-blue suit paired with a classic red lip and her very own Black-girl ‘fro. I almost didn’t notice Liam Neeson, her costar, sitting beside her.

I introduced myself and sat down, and the first thing Viola said after greeting me was: “I love your hair. It’s cute.” Viola embodies Black beauty, so her compliment was akin to a powerful lightsaber cutting through generations of subliminal racist conditioning on Black hair and beauty. You couldn’t say anything against me and my hair after that — for at least a strong week, maybe two. I honestly don’t even remember the following four minutes. I asked some questions and they both answered, but that was the part of the interview that stood out to me afterward. As the junket crew was shooing me out, I thanked Viola for her compliment on my hair. She had more to say, complimenting my “Black nerd look,” saying that I reminded her of a niece who favored the same aesthetic.

Viola Davis said my Afro was cute. And she liked my nerd look, an aesthetic that was just my normal dress, but she thought it was a “look.” They were the most empowering words from the most accomplished and inspiring Black woman I had ever met. It made my hair struggle and my memory of an uncomfortably hectic morning fade.

Her words followed me whenever I grew frustrated with my hair for collapsing while traveling due to headrests, rain or wind. I would fluff her back up and keep going. The day Viola said my hair was cute became the day I started letting my hair have a mind of its own. I can honestly say that my hair travel anxiety has become a whole lot easier to manage since that meeting.

Jonita Davis (jonitadavis.com) is a film critic, writer, and pop culture junkie behind the online publication The Black C.A.P.E. Magazine (theblackcape.com, @theblackcapemag). She is also a freelance writer, a published author, an English professor, and a podcaster. She has a master’s degree in English (Literary Criticism Concentration) from Purdue University and teaches writing at Waubonsee Community College. Her previous works include Michigan City’s Marinas (History Press 2009), Michigan City’s Washington Park (History Press 2011), Questioning Cultural Appropriation (Enslow Publishing 2019), and We Gon Be Black Today (Chicago Review Press, 2023).

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This story was originally published October 3, 2022 at 9:00 AM with the headline "That time Viola Davis said my Afro was cute."