This is an impressively researched and fiercely argued book (although one that was a heavy and hard read). Written in part like a doctoral thesis, in part autobiographical, I have to admit that I was hoping for more of the latter than the former. However, I found the content fascinating, poignant and has made an impact on the way I see things around me - can you ask for more in a book?

My one criticism - if indeed I am allowed to make one, as I don't have the knowledge to critique Dabiri's overall argument - is that the lense of viewing the attractiveness of female Afro hair is viewed through a male gaze (whether men find a light-skinned woman more attractive, a woman with 'good' or 'bad' hair) - I would have been interested to know what non-heterosexual perceptions would have been.

As another reviewer said, I know this book was not written for me, but I am still thankful for the opportunity to take something away from it. The ultimate message, and one that is apparent throughout this novel, is that "the master's tools will never dismantle the master's house" - something to reflect on.

What a beautiful, beautiful book.

The phrase 'Don't Touch My Hair', is by now incredibly familiar and comes up in most discussions about racism.

Emma Dabiri takes this one step further by drawing attention to the cultural and historical context of black hair. Mostly framed against both pre- and post-colonial African history, Dabiri also includes more familiar (read: Eurocentric) ways in which attitudes to black hair affect day to day lives.

Black hair is the topic of this book but this is not at all limiting. Dabiri deftly draws together the experiences of slaves in America, the mathematical processes of weaves and the computational abilities abound in pre-colonial Africa. All underlined by black hair.

I was delighted to read a book on this subject by a black Irish author. Dabiri offers some insight into growing up as a mixed-race child in Ireland, a narrative that I was unfamiliar with. I was not without white guilt while reading this book, but that's to be expected.

I really loved this book. To me, it was the reminiscent of the Devil Wears Prada scene in which Meryl Streep explains the context of Anne Hathaway's blue jumper. My basic understanding of not touching black hair has been blown wide open. Dabiri uses extensive secondary sources, giving it the sheen of an academic paper and providing tons of further reading for those wishing to know more. I for one can't wait to read more.

Growing up mixed race often feels like a minority within a minority. You can be made keenly aware of your otherness, and that may give you feelings that you don't belong, not enough of any one thing to be truly that. The things that chimed with me in this book I remember as moments that filtered down to me as a child because of other people and their own biases. Being called 'yellowbone', told how pretty my skin was, the surprise that I 'speak so well'. Growing up, when my music instructor thought I might like just prefer to take clarinet with 'the other black girls' when I was proficient at another instrument and in fact sat first chair ever after. The honest assumption of my high school coach that I would try out for the basketball team instead of tennis because I'd probably do better at a more familiar sport. But most of all I remember my hair. I never had a relaxer until another black woman decided to put one on me. I never thought there was anything wrong with it at all, but it still took me years to get back to the same self acceptance that I was born with.

This book taught me a lot, about the history of our self hatred and some of the reasons behind that same feeling, a minority within a minority. Though I don't agree with every point made and it was slightly more academic in tone than I had anticipated, I do feel the author made some strong arguments that resonated with me in deeply personal ways. To quote Daberi herself, 'In the face of a five-century-long campaign about the ugliness and inadequacy of our hair, black women have collectively turned round and said, ‘Nah.’ We have shared our hair stories, our journeys through pain into acceptance and to pride. In doing so, we have built a powerful international community.'

Thanks to Penguin Books UK and NetGalley for the Advance Review Copy in exchange for an honest review.

Full disclosure, I am a white woman and I know this book wasn't written for me. Please excuse any mistakes I may make in my review, I come from a position of almost complete ignorance on this subject.

To say this is a book about hair would be far too simplistic. It’s part social history, part memoir and explores issues and themes around personal and cultural identity and self-worth. The author comes from a mixed background and spent her childhood in Ireland. There she was faced with negative opinions about her skin and hair that made her feel excluded and ugly. She longed for the kind of hair associated with storybook Princesses aka European Princesses bedecked with long, silky locks.

Dabiri discusses the pervasiveness of European beauty standards and the negative impact it has on how black women in particular are perceived. Opinions towards Natural (‘bad’ hair), the impact of hair straightening rituals and the damage caused through hot combs and chemicals is also discussed. Dabiri looks at the rise of natural hair movement and the increasing rejection of European beauty standards. The self-loathing towards Natural hair is deep rooted however and even those involved in the Black Power movement weren’t immune to this. The afro is a symbol of rejecting the status quo but there is still a feeling of competition and insecurity towards “Becky with the good hair”.

Juxtaposed against this is the cultural appropriation of traditional black hairstyles by the likes of the Kardashians and Katy Perry and the scorn placed upon women like Zendaya whose (GORGEOUS) dreadlocks were quoted as looking like they would smell like "patchouli oil or weed" by a television host.

The book is engagingly written in a snappy yet academic writing style. Here we have an empowering and passionate celebration of a rich cultural heritage that is at best ignored and at worst openly discriminated against. It is never ‘just hair’.

I really enjoyed this book because it was a subject I was pretty ignorant about. Emma takes us through the history of black hair and the movement for natural hair today. Emma ties in history with personal and family anecdotes which makes this a very easy read and educational without seeming so.

A powerful book. An exploration into the history of racist attitudes as well as those that are more contemporary.

The politics of black hairstyling is the topic of this thought-provoking book by social historian and presenter, Emma Dabiri. A mixture of human experience, sociology, economics and persuasive writing, it's a must-read for anyone who wants a closer look at the attitudes which have literally shaped the hair of black people throughout history and which are still impacting on their lives today. I would also describe it as empowering book for women in particular who have what Emma describes as 'kinky' hair. This is a deeply personal subject for her, which she has skilfully weaved with academic research to create a narrative which is part social study, part manifesto. It's an excellent achievement and I learned a lot from the range of topics covered.

There's also a good selection of illustrations such as cartoons, adverts, historic photographs and even some examples of Emma's own hairstyles.I found the writing style difficult at times, because it was more academic than I anticipated - not a problem as such, but I'm not used to reading this style since I finished at university several years ago. I found it odd that occasionally this was punctuated with comments which included words such as 'lol'. It just seemed weird to me. Although don't quote me on it; the text may have been edited again before publication. My favourite sections of text were the social history and the author's own experiences. She grew up in Ireland, having Irish and Nigerian heritage; it was a difficult time for her, not only as a rare minority in white predominantly Catholic Ireland, but also being made to feel ugly because her hair was 'kinky' and no one understood how to care for her type of hair. She longed for smooth 'princess' hair which grew down instead of out, and devoted much time and pain to make her hair fit the white western ideal. Throughout the book, she explores the damaging attitudes which are promoted but there are also positive moments too, in which she celebrates black hair for its particular qualities and examines the intricate traditional hairstyles of the Yoruba people.

The book title is inspired by Solange's song 'Don't Touch My Hair'.

Thank you to the publisher, Penguin, for the advance copy via NetGalley. This book is published today.