This Is What Asian Hair Really Looks Like

For as long as I can remember, I’ve defied the lazy stereotype of Asian hair — pin-straight, ultra-fine, and jet-black. I have an alarmingly thick head of hair — the kind that requires two stylists’ blow-drying simultaneously. The kind that routinely snaps sturdy elastics. My father is Japanese and has stick-straight, fine hair. My mom, who is Puerto Rican, has a gorgeous head of bouncy curls. I’ve been told I’m a fascinating case study, as my hair is naturally thick as a lion’s mane but prone to grease and shapelessness. My texture is closest to a 2A pattern: loose, very undefined waves that are neither curly nor straight.

I’ll never forget the moment a hairstylist informed me that I do, in fact, have fine hair. This was a revelation. All of this has led me to consider whether there is such a thing as “Asian hair” at all.

A quick Google search revealed that I’m not alone in having questions about what is, and isn’t, Asian hair. One Reddit thread I found on /rAsianBeauty had people across the world sharing their hair types and stories: No two responses matched perfectly, which made it clear that when it comes to hair, the diversity within the Asian community is real — and beautiful.

“My hair is thick and naturally wavy — but I don’t think I knew that back in the day,” says multiracial model and professional skater Naomi Folta. “My dad is Polish, so he would sort of blow-dry everything back, which would make my hair big and fluffy — I didn’t like that. And then my mom, who’s Japanese, was always cutting my hair short.” Same!

As a fellow textured girl, I resonate with realizing that no matter what, my hair wasn’t ever going to be as pin-straight (and “neat,” as I was advised) as other kids I saw in Japan. “I think maybe in the past, I tried to emulate Japanese culture with hairstyles,” Folta adds. “But now I’m leaning more into my interests and hobbies, like surfing, beach life, skating — I love long, flowy hair, and because of the sun and surfing, I have natural highlights. I used to want them [growing up] and now I have natural ones.” 

As someone who identifies as both Asian and Latina, I’m proof that hair is a living, breathing fabric that represents culture in myriad ways. “Having worked with many types of Asian hair throughout the years, I have learned that there is a lot of diversity that exists here,” Anh Co Tran, celebrity stylist and Milbon global creative director, tells Refinery29. “As a society, we need to have a better understanding of this diversity, such as differences in color and texture: For example, many Asians have hair textures that vary from wavy to slightly curly.” And as Anh further points out, not all straight hair is identical, either. “Asian hair varies with coarse, medium, and fine textures — for example, my hair is straight with medium texture and medium density.” If we want a more diverse beauty landscape — including the ads that grace our social feeds and the products on shelves — that starts with understanding that Asian beauty isn’t a monolith, and that one hair type does not, in fact, fit all.

Beauty has borrowed heavily from Asian culture when it comes to treatments in general — TikTok was quick to latch onto the “face-snatching” benefits of gua sha, and I for one can’t seem to escape the heavily staged photos of girls in top knots posing in Japanese onsens (cell phones and photography of any kind are not allowed in traditional onsens, but that doesn’t seem to stop people from eschewing etiquette for the ’gram). But that’s not to say that there aren’t people and brands who are getting it right these days, representing Asian cultures with authenticity — and creating beautiful products in the process. Fable & Mane has managed to share the Indian ritual of hair oiling in a way that feels meaningful, not mass-produced — the product assortment is curated and intentional, and the brand is still run by its sibling founders, Akash and Nikita Mehta. Shu Uemura’s tsubaki oil-infused products showcase one of Japan’s most ancient beauty secrets, and Shaz & Kiks’ clay shampoo (based on Ayurvedic rituals) did what clarifying shampoos could never: balance my oily scalp without leaving my hair feeling parched. 

“My hair means a lot to me—it’s a big part of who I am and where I come from,” political strategist Orpa Ali tells Refinery29. “Growing up, my mother instilled in me a routine of weekly scalp massages and oil treatments, nurturing its health and growth. She often styled it in protective braids to shield it from damage, and it wasn’t until much later that I was allowed to experiment with color. In Bengali culture, as in many other South Asian cultures, hair plays a pivotal role in defining beauty standards, and I consider myself incredibly fortunate to possess such healthy hair. As she tells me, she’s “tried pretty much everything,” including various lengths, bangs, and hair colors. ”I lucked out with some awesome hair genes, giving me thick, dense, jet-black hair. But as I’ve grown up, my hair’s texture has shifted, and figuring out how to style it and feel good about it has been a bit of a journey,” she adds. “My hair holds immense significance in shaping my identity and sense of beauty.”

For others, hair is a conduit of self-expression and identity — not only for how we want others to see us, but how we see ourselves. “Between the ages of four and 12, my dad cut my hair,” Refinery29 senior writer Venus Wong tells me. “I’d always looked at people with pigtails or double braids, and would be so envious — some girls at my school got to have long hair, but I had to have this silly bowl cut.” (I, too, grew up with my parents’ bathroom moonlighting as my hair salon — and have the school pictures featuring uneven bangs — a Mr. Hoshikawa original— to prove it.)

“I actually got a nickname, ‘fish ball, because my face and bowl-shaped hair were kind of round,” Venus shares. “I had a lot of insecurity around that, which made me feel like, ‘Oh, I need bangs,’ or something. It was [constantly] a lot chasing what was considered fashionable, and feeling like I was always behind it.”

Trying out different lengths and colors for novelty’s sake is one thing, but then there’s the aspect of hair as an authentic representation of the self: “You know how you always want the texture that’s opposite to what you naturally have? I feel like some people envy naturally straight hair, but I always wanted spiral-y, curly, wavy hair,” Venus admits. “In 2022, I quit my job and went back home to Asia for the first time since the pandemic. That’s when I decided to perm my hair — having this big, wavy hair was my way of showing that I’m the anime main character who takes control of my destiny.” (She then found her way to Refinery29, and the rest, as they say, is history.) And even though perms are temporary and roots eventually grow out, the effects they have on us are far from ephemeral: “Now that I’ve experimented with perming, I’m happy to go back to basics, and have a low-maintenance routine,” she says. “Now, I’m fine curling it with a Dyson Airwrap or Shark FlexStyle, but today? I love having straight hair again.”