Voice was not alone in its skepticism about the need to impose—and enforce—a cosmetology license on hair braiders for the purpose of public safety. On August 19, 1999, US district judge Rudi Brewster struck down California’s requirement that African American hairstylists secure a cosmetology license. In a twenty-six-page decision, Brewster wrote, “There are limits to what the State may require before its dictates are deemed arbitrary and irrational.”98 On the basis that only 7 percent of the required training was even “possibly relevant” to hair braiding, the judge ruled that the licensure requirements were “wholly irrelevant to the achievement of the state’s objectives,” namely protecting public safety.99 The 1999 ruling confirmed an earlier decision in which the judge concluded that the regulations placed “an almost insurmountable barrier in front of anyone who seeks to practice African hair styling,” suggesting that the effect was “to force African hair stylists out of business in favor of mainstream hair stylists and barbers.”100
BOTTLENECKING INTO THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY
Despite such positive decisions and legislative changes, braiders continued, at the dawn of the new century, to find themselves caught in the cosmetology bottleneck. Essence Farmer, an Arizona native, sought to open a hair-braiding salon in her hometown of Glendale. To do so, Essence was required by the state of Arizona to complete a 1,600-hour training program, at an approximate cost of $10,000, to earn a cosmetology license.101 The skills she needed to run her business, however, she had learned at the age of ten. As a teenager, she began braiding out of her parents’ home for money, serving five to six clients a week, some traveling forty miles or more for her services.
As Essence recalled about her early years,
There were not a lot of braiders at the time, and my client-base grew by word of mouth. Some of my clients were going to California or other long distances to have their hair done, so even though I was a teenager, I had a talent for braiding and clients liked going to someone local.102
Essence moved to Maryland in 2000 to attend Prince George’s Community College. Because Maryland exempts hair braiders from cosmetology licensing laws, she was able to braid many clients’ hair at Blowouts Salon and a barbershop called Hairstons.103 When she moved back to Arizona in 2003, she began braiding out of her house but soon learned she was doing so illegally. “I was reading an article in a magazine about someone who was arrested for braiding in California,” she explained, “and thought, ‘That’s crazy, why would she be arrested for braiding hair?’ But it made me cognizant of the idea that there might be a license in Arizona.” In a call to the state cosmetology board, her suspicion was confirmed. Moreover, she was informed that her years of professional experience were not sufficient: “They told me anything that involved touching hair was considered cosmetology and required the full license.”104
Essence was caught in the bottleneck, but she refused to remain stuck there. “I was discouraged, but I knew something had to be done about this. So I began looking for representation to sue the state board.” Her search led her to the Institute for Justice, which had represented Taalib and other braiders before her. In December 2003, Essence sued the state cosmetology board over her right to pursue the occupation of her passion. Her suit never made it to trial.
During the 2004 legislative session, Arizona lawmakers—in direct response to Essence’s lawsuit—did what the state board wouldn’t: it allowed people to practice the art of hair braiding without a cosmetology license. Representative Deb Gullett took up the cause, tacking the exemption onto a broader measure dealing with mobile cosmetology salons.105 “It just seemed to me that [forcing braiders to train as cosmetologists] was the stupidest thing that I had ever heard of,” recalled Gullett. “And thankfully people agreed with me.”106 On April 12, 2004, the provision passed Arizona’s legislature, opening the door for Essence and others to braid freely.
Four months after Arizona’s bottleneck was dislodged, Melony Armstrong, a hair braider in Tupelo, Mississippi, sued her state cosmetology board to achieve the same end. Similar to what happened in Arizona, the Mississippi legislature eventually changed the law to allow hair braiders to practice without a cosmetology license, but not before a fierce months-long battle, the roots of which can be traced back to a 1995 hair appointment for Melony.
The $75 appointment lasted about an hour. Melony had never had her hair braided professionally before, but she decided to try something new. One the day of her appointment, she and her husband, Kevin, drove about ninety minutes north into Memphis, the closest braiding salon to their home. While she was getting her hair done, Melony faced away from the mirror and chatted with the friendly stylist as she glanced curiously around the room at the styles other braiders were creating. Upon completion of the relatively simple style, the braider slowly turned her chair to face the mirror. As she did, Melony made a life-changing decision.107
“After having my hair braided and looking in the mirror, it immediately clicked—this hair thing, these braids, is what I want to do,” Melony remembered. “Even during the process, seeing this is a real live business. On the drive back—and that drive is one-and-a-half hours—it’s all I talked about to my husband. I’m going to be a professional hairbraider.”108
“She’s crazy,” Kevin thought to himself. They had a toddler at home. Besides Melony’s formal education was in psychology; she had worked at a battered women’s shelter, a boys’ home, and a state hospital. She knew nothing of braiding. Unlike many black women, she had never learned how to braid hair as a child. But she longed to create a business of her own.109
“I’ve always had that entrepreneurial spirit flowing in me,” she said. “My mind was clicking, ticking. It was just itching, gnawing at me, to do something else.”110 Melony saw the opportunity braiding presented for the Tupelo area. On the ride home from Memphis, Kevin couldn’t get a word in edgewise. Melony was suddenly on a mission that, unbeknownst to either of them at the time, would make headlines.
After a series of workshops, classes, and endless hours of practicing braiding, Melony began working on clients in her home in late 1995—first for free to gain experience and then for a fee. Because she was the only professional braider in the area, clients were drawn to her, especially those once forced to travel for their hairstyling. Melony knew she was on to something. The next step was moving her business outside of her home.111
To work as a hair braider in a salon, Melony needed to earn a license. Regulations required 1,200 hours of classes to obtain a cosmetology license. She had neither the time nor the resources to complete so many hours, but she soon discovered that Mississippi also had a largely moribund “wigology” license that required only three hundred hours of training. None of the training covered braiding, but for Melony it was a less costly means to an end.112 Melony obtained her wigology license and, to prepare herself for her own venture, began working at someone else’s salon on Mondays, when she didn’t conduct her own cosmetology services. This enabled her to work in a salon setting, which otherwise would not have been possible for her. But she soon tired of walking into someone else’s postweekend mess and, with her husband’s expertise in construction, started her own salon at a small shop where she also sold natural hair products. She named her business Naturally Speaking and steadily built up a clientele.113
Opening her own business was an important first step, but Melony wanted to do more. She felt she had a calling to teach other women not only about the hair-braiding trade but also about how to run a business, so that they could take what they learned from her and go out and support themselves. But, as she quickly realized, to fulfill that calling would require a battle with the bottleneckers.114 Before allowing her to teach others how to braid hair, the state cosmetology board required that Melony obtain a cosmetology license, then a cosmetology instructor’s license (another two thousand hours of class), and finally a school license—none of which would
