By Sally Vazquez-Castellanos
Published on October 12, 2025. Revised on October 13, 2025. Edit: Loose to Lose. Thank you!
My latest conversation with ChatGPT. A discussion about “hair,” and a social hierarchy based on a system called Caste.
Introduction
I am a proud Puerto Rican woman who grew up somewhere between the Bronx and the Hudson Valley. I am quite sure you don’t have to be all that skilled for the precise locations, or maybe you do. I studied at New York University, crawled my way through legal training in Boston, and somehow built my professional career in California.
Believe that it’s true…
Across these places—each with its own unspoken rules about culture and belonging—I’ve carried the same lesson: identity travels with you, especially for a woman—the world often sees before you even say a word.
For many Puerto Rican women, hair is one of the first ways we learn how identity is formed and judged. At times, it’s extremely emotional and really quite personal—especially when you encounter a life-altering disease.
Many women (and some men) suddenly realize that one’s hair is more than a mere reflection of one’s heritage and a record of expectation across cultures.
Hispanic, Latino, and Nuyorican
The words Hispanic and Latino are often used as if they mean the same thing, but they describe different stories. Or—do they? One has to read carefully between blurred lines. A State of confusion often becomes the norm. After all—they say context matters most. But so does one’s word.
When you use people — such as an American family and their stories —people tend to remember things like racism and discrimination in any manner or form veiled in terms of political expediency. No hidden meaning in the use of the word veiled. A legal disclaimer I never thought I would ever have to make. In an age of Netflix homes, double meanings are intended to invent monsters. In the digital age, things like cognitive liberty and bodily integrity do truly matter. Lose our humanity there and it will lead to a global shame the likes of something we’ve never seen before — an existential threat that goes well beyond human dignity. A disgrace. Quite similar to transforming children and vulnerable adults into monsters in the name of the State. A line in the sand that should never have been crossed.
There’s European history. But there’s also colonial history. No one is quite willing to accept—the remnants of a shameful racist past. The truth often lies somewhere between cultural and political dominance. Where the notion of use extends to a failure in political leadership.
According to my Chat, Hispanics connect to language—people from nations touched by Spanish colonization. Latino (or Latina/Latinx) connects to geography—people from Latin America, regardless of language.
To be Nuyorican is to be Puerto Rican by heritage and shaped by New York itself. It’s a mix of Spanish and English, of island rhythm and city pace. For many of us who later studied or built careers and lives elsewhere, it is a reminder that identity never fades. There is a deep sadness there—that never seems to fade.
Hair as History
In a sense, one’s hair often becomes much more meaningful far beyond style. In Puerto Rican families, it is a marker of culture and class, one that tells us early how we’ll be perceived.
Sometimes we are taught that straight hair once meant “proper” or “professional.” Depending on the elevation of your curl, they may be labeled with difficult cultural terms—thus negatively embodying a dark predetermined future for our girls. These are culturally difficult terms such as “kinky,” “frizzy,” “unruly,” or “griffo.” It’s a subtler harm that conditions a child’s brain to somehow believe that you are lesser. The so-called gentler term—tangled.
It’s a struggle. Don’t be fooled by my photos. Rain frightens me, and so does wind. And—Humidity. Walk into any hair salon with my hair, and I’m sure many beauticians and stylists are left in sudden dread for fear of where to begin.
That mindset lives on in a recent hashtag curiously entitled, “Pelo Bueno Es El Que Se Cuida”—good hair is the hair you take care of. I’m not quite sure that’s an accurate translation I would bet the family farm on—simply because I don’t believe it’s very honest.
On the surface, it sounds like self-respect. But beneath that, it’s a coded message passed down from colonial history: that “good” hair is best when it’s closest in texture to Caucasian hair.
For generations, women were taught that lighter skin and smoother hair offered protection—protection from ridicule, exclusion, or the gaze of powerful men. Straight hair became armor. It meant safety, access, and acceptance. But it also is another reminder of a colonial past that many Puerto Ricans struggle to overcome.
Colonial Rule to Modern-day Discrimination & Extremism
The belief that appearance offers protection carries forward many traditions we thought we had overcome. Under colonial hierarchies, Puerto Ricans were ranked by how closely they resembled Europeans. That logic still survives into modern life, shaping how women prepare for interviews, courtrooms, public spaces—and impacting what becomes of their body and mind.
Each time we smooth our hair to appear “professional,” we repeat an old script written under colonialism: whiteness as safety, conformity as protection. I am certainly guilty of that as well. It is an exhausting, painstaking legacy handed down through generations, teaching young Puerto Rican girls that respect must be earned through cultural norms.
Language, Gender, and Power
“Pelo Bueno Es El Que Se Cuida” endures because it hides its prejudice behind politeness. It makes discrimination sound like advice. It tells women that to be accepted they must control what is natural—hair, tone, volume, even confidence.
This language doesn’t just regulate beauty; it regulates access to power. It defines what is “appropriate” in courtrooms, boardrooms, and classrooms. And it still whispers to young girls that professionalism is measured by how far they can distance themselves from their own roots.
Law, Culture, and Reclaiming Dignity
The CROWN Act—first enacted in California—acknowledges that hair discrimination is racial discrimination. It validates what so many of us already knew: that regulating hair has always been another way to regulate identity.
But legislation alone cannot undo centuries of coded prejudice. Real change begins when we stop institutional racism and discrimination in all forms. I believe we can say the same about how we treat women and each other: all hair is good hair when it reflects who you are. Care should mean respect for each other, love—and not conformity to a shameful colonial past.
Conclusion
To be Puerto Rican—to be Nuyorican—is to live with pride in yourself, but I understand just how difficult it can be for a Puerto Rican woman with frizzy or difficult hair. It’s not that easy to get the same level of service or respect as a woman (or a man). It’s a dilemma that impacts women and children across racial lines. It is a reflection of what Author Isabel Wilkerson coined—Caste.
Hair carries that entire story. While I don’t profess to be an expert, “Pelo Bueno Es El Que Se Cuida” sounds a bit like love while teaching submission. It’s time to let the evil trappings of our national history go for important things like self-respect and human dignity.
Legal Disclaimer
This blog post is for informational purposes only and does not constitute legal advice. Reading this article does not create an attorney-client relationship. For advice about your specific legal matter, please consult a qualified attorney.
Author’s Note
This piece was developed through an initial research-based discussion with ChatGPT, used as a generative tool to support narrative structure, legal framing, and scientific accuracy. All editorial decisions, reflections, and synthesis are my own. As with all work on Perspectives, this article is meant to raise awareness, encourage inquiry, and center the human experience behind our institutions and stories.
The Sources Provided By ChatGPT 👇
Juan Flores, From Bomba to Hip-Hop: Puerto Rican Culture and Latino Identity (Columbia University Press, 2000).
Marta Moreno Vega, When the Spirits Dance Mambo (Three Rivers Press, 2004).
Arlene Dávila, Latinos, Inc.: The Marketing and Making of a People (University of California Press, 2001).
New York City Commission on Human Rights, Legal Enforcement Guidance on Race Discrimination on the Basis of Hair (2019).
California Senate Bill 188 (The CROWN Act, 2019). Pew Research Center, Latinos and Colorism (2021).
About the Author
California Attorney and Shareholder at Los Angeles-based family law firm Castellanos & Associates, APLC. Focuses on legal issues at the intersection of children’s privacy, global data protection, and the impact of media and technology on families.
