'She was certain the disapproval was mostly because of her unstraightened hair. My God, the conversations she had been forced to have when she came back from Detroit."I came across this description of the natural-haired character Anna when I read Toni Morrison's novel Paradise as I returned from a visit to Uganda last Sunday. I highlighted it because the subject of black women maintaining disapproval and approval in public was something I had been thinking about over my week's visit.On my way to Uganda I had reread Ama Ata Aidoo's prose poem Our Sister Killjoy. In the book, the narrator, Sissie, Our Sister Killjoy, is a black woman who learns to refuse the comfort of others at her own expense as she travels through Europe.Given that I was reading the book on the plane, the scene wherein a white air hostess invites Sissie to sit at the back with "her friends" stayed in my mind. When Sissie turns to look at the friends Sister Airhostess refers to, she sees two black people she does not know.story_article_left1She is about to say that she does not know them when she thinks: "But to have refused to join them would have created an awkward situation, wouldn't it? Considering too that apart from the air hostess's obviously civilised upbringing, she had been trained to see to the comfort of all her passengers."As I stood in an immigration queue for those returning to South Africa, I thought of Anna and Sissie. As Black Jesus would have it, Morrison could have not written a better scene to describe my immigration-queue experience, give or take a few words: "She was certain the approval was mostly because of her unstraightened hair. My God, like the conversation she had been forced to have when she came back from Uganda."I had already noticed the chatty white South African woman in front of me in the queue, decked out in hiking gear that I assumed was part of a visit to see Uganda's great silverback gorillas. She had been explaining to an Austrian man how the ANC's loss at the polls meant that "things were definitely going in the right direction".She looked at me, before looking away again. I looked up briefly before returning to my phone to check the messages coming through. In time, Sister Silverback turned around again, training her eyes on my head. The queueing experience, especially at home affairs and the grocery store, has become a taxing one in the Rainbow Nation, so I braced myself as Sister Silverback opened her mouth."You know, I just have to say, you look absolutely stunning with your hair like that."Fair enough, I thought. Damn right my hair looked good. Just before I went away, I had taken care to visit my barber, an expert in fades and brush cuts, for my fortnightly appointment, so my fade was still in good condition."Thank yo-""-I don't know why more people don't do that." Shuddering and gingerly grabbing the tendrils of her long hair, Sister Silverback continued: "I absolutely hate it when women put all sorts of things in their hair."Hold on. I wasn't going to play this game with her. Sister Silverback would now come to know, that I, too, went by the name Sister Killjoy."No. I don't think that you as a white woman should be commenting on black women's hair."Well, this was now awkward. I, Sister Killjoy, had refused Sister Silverback's goodwill. She was taken aback. She was complimenting a black woman for her natural hair for Tata Madiba's sake! And on top of that, had she not done the right thing by Biko in expressing her disdain for the way in which black women's hair imitates white women's hair?block_quotes_start ...black women remain at the bottom of the barrel like crabs having to push each other down in order to gain the approval of the public block_quotes_endSounding much like our favourite radio talkshow host John Robbie's response to the idea that he as an older white man had no right to comment on the Pretoria Girls' High issue, she began huffing: "Well, it's my opinion, and I have the right to say what I think, and I think your hair looks good!"Fortunately for her, home affairs relieved us of the awkwardness of our New South Africa camaraderie by announcing indignant Sister Silverback's turn.What game had Sister Silverback tried to play with me? It is a familiar pastime where we, the denizens of a white supremacist world, love to weaponise the "appropriate" bodies of black women against the "inappropriate" bodies of other black women.The rules of the game can seem capricious. Sometimes they declare those with natural hair "African queens", other times "unprofessional". Sometimes they declare natural hair "beautiful", other times "untidy", "dirty" and "uncouth". Sometimes they administer pencil tests that determine which side of the train track people will live, other times they wonder aloud why on earth people would choose to straighten their hair. Sometimes they exclude people from academic and professional opportunities because of their "exotic hair", other times they wonder aloud why the blerrie hell people say it's more than just hair.The game is really not as haphazard as it sounds. Really, we know: the straighter the better. The game is structured to ensure that whatever the pickings, black women remain at the bottom of the barrel like crabs having to push each other down in order to gain the approval of the public.story_article_right2While black women stay at the bottom, those at the top, like our Sister Silverback, blessed with universally beloved "hair that falls", peer down to victim-blame them for their choices.As in all good sports , there is a good amount of heckling and speculating by those who have no real skin in the game and do not have to face the consequences of black hair choices, like Our Sister Silverback.To use Morrison's description of the reaction Anna's unstraightened hair solicited, the black hair game is one that summons "more passion, more opinions, more anger than that prostitute Menus brought home from Virginia".So although it is quite curious, it is entirely expected, according to the rules of the game, that Sister Silverback thought it appropriate to compliment me while trashing other black women. On another day a Sister Headmistress or Brother M'rapper will perhaps compliment another black woman for her "neat hair" while trashing me for my "uncouth natural hair".While this game of racist patriarchy or, to be more precise, misogynoir, remains part of the fabric of our Rainbow Nation, our hair, like Anna's hair, will continue to register "tranquillity or the intensity of a rumbling, deep-down disorder". As this happens, the rumbling disorder is one that I will continue to seek out and I will refuse the tranquility of approval gained by denigrating other black women's bodies.Sincerely, Your Sister KilljoyChigumadzi is the author of the novel "Sweet Medicine" and founding editor of Vanguard Magazine..