Bonnets & Durags: Who Gets to Define What Respectable Black Culture Looks Like?

By Don Allen

The uproar over dress codes at historically Black colleges and universities is not really about bonnets, durags, bedroom shoes, suits, or hemlines. Those items have become symbols in a much larger argument about Black identity, respectability, professionalism and, ultimately, who gets to define what respectable Black culture looks like. While universities have every right to establish reasonable standards for students, the debate becomes much more complicated when those standards begin to suggest that certain forms of Black cultural expression are inherently incompatible with professionalism.

There is a legitimate argument for standards. Colleges and universities have a responsibility to prepare students for professional environments, and that preparation includes understanding that different settings carry different expectations. HBCUs have historically understood this tension better than almost any other educational institution because generations of Black students entered workplaces and institutions where they were often judged before their qualifications were even considered. Teaching students how to navigate those realities can be valuable. The problem begins when professionalism becomes synonymous with distancing oneself from contemporary Black culture.

Historically, Black Americans have repeatedly been told that certain aspects of our appearance, speech, hair, music and cultural expression are unacceptable. We have been encouraged to straighten our hair, modify our speech, change our names, dress differently and behave according to standards that were often established outside our communities. Sometimes those expectations were explicitly racial. Other times they were presented through seemingly neutral concepts such as "professionalism," "respectability" and "proper behavior." That history makes the current debate worthy of much deeper examination than simply deciding whether a bonnet or durag belongs on a college campus.

A durag is not evidence of intellectual inferiority, just as a bonnet does not determine a person's character or ambition. Sneakers do not demonstrate a lack of academic seriousness, and hip-hop-inspired clothing does not erase someone's accomplishments. Black cultural expression should not automatically be interpreted as a rejection of discipline, education or excellence. The more important question is whether the standards being established are actually connected to educational and professional objectives or whether they reflect assumptions about what respectable people are supposed to look like.

This is where HBCUs must be especially thoughtful. Historically Black colleges and universities were not created simply to reproduce mainstream institutions with Black students inside them. They were created in response to exclusion and became places where Black intellectualism, leadership, culture and identity could develop in environments where Black students did not constantly need approval from predominantly white institutions. That history creates an enormous responsibility for HBCUs today.

An HBCU should absolutely teach students how to navigate corporate America, government, education, medicine, law, media and other professional environments. Students should understand how to dress for a courtroom, corporate boardroom, television interview, classroom or job interview. Those are legitimate skills. However, teaching students how to navigate professional environments is fundamentally different from teaching them that their cultural identity is inherently unprofessional.

There is an important distinction between code-switching and cultural erasure. Code-switching can be a tool that allows people to adapt to different environments while maintaining their identity. Cultural erasure occurs when adaptation becomes a requirement for acceptance and students begin believing that parts of themselves must be abandoned to be considered successful. That distinction seems to be missing from much of the public conversation surrounding these dress-code controversies.

It is also important to resist describing every controversial policy as part of a coordinated conspiracy against Black people. There is not necessarily evidence of an organized plot to destroy Black culture, and making that claim without evidence can distract from a more complicated reality. Sometimes the problem is not an external conspiracy. Sometimes institutions absorb the standards and assumptions of the society around them and reproduce those standards internally, even when those institutions were created to challenge exclusion.

That is where respectability politics enters the conversation.

Respectability politics has a complicated history within Black America. Black leaders, parents, educators and institutions have sometimes encouraged young people to present themselves in particular ways to counter racist stereotypes. The motivation was often understandable: if society already has negative assumptions about Black people, perhaps presenting ourselves differently could reduce discrimination and open doors. For generations, that strategy helped some Black Americans navigate hostile professional and social environments.

But it also created a complicated message. Young Black people can begin to believe that acceptance requires constant performance and that they must demonstrate that they are "different" from negative stereotypes associated with Blackness. That is a dangerous lesson for an HBCU to reinforce because the purpose of education should be to expand a student's possibilities, not narrow their identity.

There is another uncomfortable question that deserves attention: Why does society sometimes become particularly uncomfortable when Black people define professionalism on their own terms?

Black culture has profoundly influenced American fashion, music, language and popular culture. Styles once dismissed as "ghetto," inappropriate or unprofessional have repeatedly been adopted, commercialized and sold to the broader American public. Yet Black people can still be criticized for wearing or embracing those same cultural expressions. That contradiction deserves examination. If a fashion trend becomes acceptable after it is removed from its Black cultural context, we should ask whether the problem was really the clothing; or the people wearing it.

None of this means universities should abandon standards. Standards matter. Respect matters. Professional preparation matters. But standards should be connected to legitimate educational and professional objectives rather than vague assumptions about what "respectable" people look like. Universities should be able to establish expectations without suggesting that Black cultural identity itself is the problem.

An HBCU should be capable of telling a student, "There are environments where you need to dress differently, and we are going to teach you how to navigate them," without sending the message that their culture is inferior. That is a much more empowering educational philosophy because it gives students another skill rather than demanding that they surrender part of their identity.

The deeper issue, therefore, is not whether a student wears a bonnet, a durag, sneakers or a suit. The real issue is whether we are teaching young Black people to become confident, adaptable professionals or teaching them that success requires distancing themselves from the culture that produced them.

HBCUs should be places where excellence and Black identity coexist. We should demand excellence from Black students precisely because we believe in their potential, not because we are trying to make them acceptable according to someone else's definition of respectability.

The question remains: Who gets to define what respectable Black culture looks like? More importantly, why shouldn't Black people have a seat at the table when that definition is being written?