AYEDNICOLE

By AyeDNicole

“My face card is not my hair card, baby-and a Black woman’s most vulnerable day in a stylist’s chair should never become somebody else’s opportunity for messy marketing.”

You see that girl in the photo? That’s Delresha, a Jacksonville native whose background is similar to rogues of nasty women who have hood rat mothers that in fact raise their daughters to be negative and survival like her. I chose this photo to show which duval hood rat I am articulating about and why this example of a black woman of the darker skin community shows hatred to a lighter skin woman of the same community.

Just like I check Caucasian and Hispanics I will check my own ethnicity.

Protective styling is personal to me.

I have thick, full 4C hair. Like many Black women, I use braids, wigs, buns and other protective styles as tools for maintaining my natural hair while balancing everything else happening in my life.

Sometimes we are stressed. Sometimes hormones affect our hair. Sometimes our routines change. Sometimes we’ve been working late. Sometimes the appointment is ridiculously early. Sometimes we arrive at the salon looking nothing like the final version of ourselves that will eventually walk out.

That is normal.

Yet somewhere along the evolution of the modern Black hair industry, portions of the salon experience became less about care and more about content.

The client stopped being the woman in the chair. She became the before-and-after. The reel. The potential viral post. The aesthetic. The money.

And if she does not fit a stylist’s preferred social-media presentation? Sometimes she can feel the difference.

That is why I believe we need to talk about the mean-girl energy that can exist within the Black hair industry.

What Happened to the “Mama in the Chair” Experience?

There was a particular kind of care many Black women remember.

You sat down. Your hair was examined. Your scalp mattered. Your hair was washed. It was conditioned. It was detangled. Then the stylist actually styled it.

The experience could feel nurturing.

That is what I call:

“The mama-in-the-chair experience.”

Not because a stylist is responsible for mothering an adult client, but because there was something culturally significant about the care involved.

Now? Some braiders expect clients to arrive washed, conditioned, completely detangled and professionally blown out before charging substantial prices for the remaining service. Some do not include hair. Some charge additional fees for basic preparation. Some have extensive appointment rules while providing very little hospitality in return. And sometimes the attitude makes the experience worse.

My frustration can be summarized plainly:

“Some of these new Black stylists have become lazy braiders.”

That is my opinion based on the experiences I have had-not a description of every modern braider.

There are extraordinary Black stylists. But I think the industry should be willing to ask whether convenience for the stylist has gradually been marketed as luxury for the customer.

If I am doing the washing, detangling, blow-drying and major preparation myself, exactly what portion of the hair-care experience am I purchasing?

Protective Styling Is About More Than Looking Cute

This conversation becomes especially important for women using protective styles as part of an actual hair-health strategy.

Braids are not merely aesthetic for me. They are functional.

I may be protecting my hair while working. Working out. Traveling. Managing professional responsibilities. Creating music. Studying. Sleeping differently. Recovering from stress. Or simply giving my natural hair a break from daily manipulation.

That means the woman sitting in a braider’s chair may be navigating circumstances the stylist knows absolutely nothing about.

“You don’t know what happened before that woman sat in your chair.”

Maybe she worked late. Maybe she barely slept. Maybe she is experiencing shedding. Maybe stress disrupted her normal routine. Maybe she simply did not feel beautiful that morning.

That should not determine whether she receives dignity.

A beauty professional should understand that women frequently enter salons specifically because we do notlook how we want to look yet. That’s why we booked the appointment.

My Experience With Delresha Alexander

My own concerns about this culture became personal through my experiences involving Delresha Alexander, whom I previously knew in connection with hair services and Styles by Dell/Club Elevation.

I have previously expressed concerns regarding a final hair video that I felt portrayed my hair in an unflattering or messy manner. My position has been that I did not approve the particular final edit or presentation that ultimately concerned me.

Those circumstances contributed to larger concerns I developed regarding privacy, client dignity, marketing and the boundaries between someone’s beauty appointment and somebody else’s content strategy.

I want to distinguish my interpretation from established fact.

I cannot independently establish that Delresha intentionally selected material for the purpose of humiliating me.

I can say how the experience made me feel. Exposed. Disrespected. And increasingly uncomfortable with the idea that a Black woman’s appearance can become content without adequate consideration for how she feels about the final presentation.

“Just because I sat in your chair does not mean you own my image.”

That principle should matter throughout the beauty industry.

Your Client Is Not Automatically Your Content

Beauty professionals increasingly operate two businesses simultaneously. The service business. And the content business.

Those interests sometimes overlap-but they are not identical.

A client purchasing braids does not necessarily arrive intending to become marketing material.

That is why I believe stylists should be clear about photography and video. Ask. Explain where something may appear. Respect a no. And when there is sensitivity surrounding a particular image or video, handle the concern professionally rather than treating the client’s discomfort like an inconvenience.

A woman’s appearance belongs to her identity before it belongs to somebody’s content calendar.

“My appointment should not automatically become your advertisement.”

When Mutual Connections Make a Client Question the Experience

There was another dimension that made my experience particularly uncomfortable.

I became aware of social connections involving Delresha and people connected to individuals with whom I had my own interpersonal history, including a friendship I understood existed between Delresha and the mother of Rique Bentley’s child.

I also had experiences involving rapper Cartier Cal that caused me to question certain timing. There were occasions when he would FaceTime me while I was getting my hair done even though, to my recollection, I had not told him that I was at that appointment.

That made me wonder:

“How do you know when to call me if I never told you I was getting my hair done?”

Wondering is different from proving.

I do not know that Delresha told him when I was there. I do not know that the calls were coordinated. And I cannot establish that unrelated friendships were part of some organized effort against me.

But those experiences contributed to my discomfort and reinforced why privacy matters so much to me.

A stylist should understand something simple:

What happens in the chair should not become neighborhood intelligence.

The Salon Chair Should Not Become a Gossip Desk

Women talk in salons. That is practically part of Black cultural history.

We discuss relationships. Jobs. School. Children. Music. Family. Men. Other women. Our insecurities. Our goals.

Sometimes something comes out simply because you have been sitting in the same chair for six hours. That creates an unusual kind of vulnerability. And beauty professionals should respect it.

A stylist hearing a client’s conversation does not make the information hers to redistribute. A mutual acquaintance does not create permission. A friendship with somebody connected to the client does not eliminate professional boundaries.

“Eavesdropping is not networking.”

Neither is gossip.

And when the beauty industry becomes socially intertwined with nightlife, entertainment, dating circles and influencer culture, those boundaries become even more important.

“Pickmeisha” Energy Has No Place in Professional Hair Care

I use the expression “Pickmeisha” to describe a behavior-not a particular race, complexion or permanent identity.

It is the behavior of treating other women as competition because male attention has become a source of validation.

And that energy becomes exhausting inside women-centered industries.

A client should never have to wonder whether the quality of her treatment changed because of a man. Or a mutual friend. Or somebody’s baby daddy. Or somebody’s boyfriend. Or somebody’s girlfriend. Or who follows whom. Or who supposedly likes whom.

“I came for braids, not an episode.”

The chair should be professional. Period.

Colorism Does Belong in This Conversation-But Differently

There is another uncomfortable subject that Black women should be mature enough to discuss: colorism.

Dark-skinned women can experience prejudice. Light-skinned women can experience assumptions that everything in their lives is easier because of complexion. And Black women of different complexions can sometimes project painful social hierarchies onto one another.

But I refuse to reduce another Black woman’s behavior to:

She’s dark-skinned, therefore she’s jealous.

That reproduces the very colorist thinking we should be challenging.

I can, however, speak about my own experience as a lighter-complexioned Black woman. Sometimes attention from men has caused people to make assumptions about me. Sometimes people assume beauty means life has been easy. Sometimes hair becomes another measurement women use against one another.

My response now is:

“My face card is not my hair card.”

My face remains my face whether my hair reaches my waist, my collarbone or my ears. Whether I am wearing braids. A wig. A bun. Or my natural 4C hair.

Another woman’s beauty does not subtract from mine. And mine should not subtract from hers.

That’s the real gag.

Tampa Showed Me the Difference

My current hair journey has given me a different reference point.

In Tampa, my experience with Indy has reminded me what I actually want from a stylist.

Girl’s-girl energy. Professionalism. Privacy. Encouragement. Care. No weird degradation because somebody is a new client. No making me feel like I need to arrive already looking camera-ready. No social politics attached to whether my hair deserves attention.

“Very demure. Very Black-girl magic.”

Her service includes washing, and hair is included in the pricing structure I receive. That matters because I leave feeling like I purchased a hair service, not merely somebody’s hand labor after completing half of the appointment myself.

And alongside that professional relationship, I have been using Cécred products as part of the foundation of my renewed natural-hair journey.

My hair has reached collarbone length again. That progress means something to me. Not because collarbone length determines beauty. It means the routine is working for my goals.

A Good Stylist Can Change How a Woman Sees Her Hair

The greatest difference is motivation.

A good stylist should not make you embarrassed about where your hair currently is. She should help you understand where it can go.

Maybe you experienced breakage. Okay. Let’s build. Maybe stress affected your hair. Okay. Let’s recover. Maybe you neglected your routine. Okay. Let’s restart. Maybe your hair is thriving. Beautiful. Let’s protect it.

That is girl’s-girl energy to me.

“Don’t laugh at the starting point when somebody trusted you to help with the journey.”

Imagine a fitness trainer laughing because somebody arrived overweight. Imagine a tutor mocking a student because she does not understand the material. Imagine a financial advisor embarrassing somebody because she has debt.

The client came because she wanted assistance. Hair should receive the same humanity.

Favoritism Is Messy Marketing

Stylists obviously have favorite photographs. Lighting differs. Styles differ. Some clients want to be photographed and others don’t. Not every customer has to appear on somebody’s page. That alone is not favoritism.

But when women begin feeling that warmth, visibility, enthusiasm or treatment depends on whether they fit a preferred aesthetic or social circle, the brand has a problem.

Because marketing communicates values.

If every woman fitting one aesthetic gets:

“OMG my girl ate!”

while somebody else receives coldness despite paying the same money, customers notice.

“You cannot market sisterhood while practicing social hierarchy in the chair.”

To Mothers Raising Daughters

There is a lesson here bigger than braiding.

Mothers, teach daughters that beauty is something to enjoy-not something to weaponize. Teach them that being attractive does not make another girl ugly. Teach them that male attention is not a trophy. Teach them how to maintain another woman’s confidence when she is vulnerable. Teach them privacy. Teach them professionalism. Teach them not to laugh at someone because they caught her on an imperfect day.

Because life changes. Beauty changes. Bodies change. Hair changes. Money changes. Popularity changes. And anything somebody uses to make herself feel permanently superior can disappear.

“Be careful how you treat people over gifts God can alter overnight.”

To Younger Girls Entering the Beauty Industry

Learn the craft. Not just the content.

Learn scalp care. Learn natural hair. Learn sanitation. Learn customer service. Learn boundaries. Learn scheduling. Learn business. Learn consent. Learn how to apologize when a customer is genuinely uncomfortable.

And learn that being talented does not excuse being nasty.

You can braid beautifully and still lose clients because the experience is ugly. Social media followers cannot replace professionalism forever.

My Hair Is Not My Face Card

The deepest lesson from this journey is surprisingly simple.

“My face card is not my hair card, baby.”

Hair is an accessory to my identity. It is also culturally important, emotionally meaningful and deserving of proper care.

But I am not less beautiful because my natural hair is going through a rebuilding stage. I am not less feminine because I wear a protective style. I am not less successful because somebody caught me before the transformation. And no stylist gets to determine how I feel about the woman underneath the braids.

Today my 4C hair is thick. It is being maintained. It is growing. It has reached my collarbone again. And I am enjoying rebuilding my relationship with it.

The greatest difference is not simply Tampa versus Jacksonville. It is that I now understand what kind of energy I permit around something as personal as my hair.

“You are not just touching my hair. I am trusting you with it.”

That trust deserves professionalism. That trust deserves privacy. That trust deserves care.

And Black women deserve beauty professionals who understand that the woman walking into the appointment before sunrise may not look like the woman leaving three hours later.

That’s the entire point.

Don’t humiliate the before while taking credit for the after.

Editorial, Personal-Experience & Legal Notice

This article is a first-person editorial reflecting AyeDNicole/Adrienne’s experiences, recollections, opinions and cultural commentary concerning protective styling and the Black beauty industry. Descriptions such as “mean-girl energy,” “lazy braiders,” “messy marketing,” “Pickmeisha,” “hoodratism,” or similar expressions are the author’s rhetorical opinions concerning behaviors she personally dislikes and should not be interpreted as professional diagnoses or independently established findings concerning another person’s character.

Delresha Alexander / Styles by Dell / Club Elevation: References to Delresha Alexander and related businesses or social connections reflect the author’s recollection and interpretation of prior experiences. The author has previously expressed concerns regarding use or presentation of her hair, image or likeness in a final video/edit she says she did not approve in that form. This article does not independently establish that Delresha intentionally attempted to embarrass the author, violated a law, coordinated conduct with another individual, or acted with malicious intent.

Cartier Cal: References to FaceTime calls involving Cartier Cal describe timing the author remembers finding unusual. The author does not claim to have independently established that Delresha Alexander, Cartier Cal or another person coordinated those calls or exchanged information concerning the author’s appointments. Questions concerning the timing are presented as the author’s observations and suspicions rather than established facts.

Personal Relationships and Mutual Connections: References to friendships, acquaintances or relationships involving Rique Bentley, the mother of his child, Delresha Alexander, Cartier Cal or other individuals are included as context for why the author became concerned about privacy. Mere friendship, acquaintance or association should not be interpreted as evidence of coordinated wrongdoing.

Colorism: The article expressly rejects attributing jealousy, misconduct or personality traits to another woman merely because she is dark-skinned, light-skinned or another complexion. Discussion of colorism concerns broader social experiences and the author’s perspective on competition and beauty standards among women.

Hair and Wellness: References to stress, hormones, protective styling, hair growth, breakage or products concern general hair-care experiences and the author’s personal routine. They are not medical advice or guarantees that any hairstyle, stylist, technique or product will produce equivalent results for another person.

No Harassment or Interference Intended: Nothing in this article requests or encourages readers to contact, confront, threaten, shame, review-bomb, investigate, interfere with, or otherwise target any individual or business discussed. Readers should form their own opinions based on their own experiences and independently available information.

This notice provides editorial context and does not establish the truth or falsity of disputed allegations, create legal immunity, waive anyone’s rights, or substitute for individualized advice from a licensed attorney regarding publication or potential defamation, privacy, publicity-rights or business claims.