Achan Agit is no stranger to oppression.
Born in what is now South Sudan, Achan was forced to flee her homeland in 2001 during the Second Sudanese Civil War. After living in Egypt as a refugee for three years (amid rampant xenophobia and racism), in 2004, she came to the United States and became a lawful permanent resident. Achan learned English while braiding hair in various salons, before she eventually settled in Des Moines, Iowa. Achan realized her skills as a braider (she has been twisting and locking hair since she was five) could help provide for her family. So in 2009, she opened her own braiding salon.
Just one problem: In Iowa, braiding hair without a license in cosmetology is a crime, punishable by up to one year in prison and civil fines as high as $10,000.
On Tuesday, Achan, joined by Aicheria Bell, another African-style hair braider, and the Institute for Justice, filed a civil rights lawsuit against the Iowa Board of Cosmetology Arts & Sciences. Their complaint asserts that the state’s licensing laws are “burdensome and arbitrary…causing great and irreparable harm” and violate their rights as guaranteed by the Fourteenth Amendment of the U.S. Constitution.
When she learned about the license requirement, Achan first turned her salon into a retail store that sold hair accessories and jewelry and offered braiding services. Unfortunately, she fell ill while pregnant. Fearful that the Board could take legal action against her and her business if she hired braiders, Achan completely shut down her store after just a few months in operation.
Instead, she went underground, avoiding advertising her services and only braiding hair for neighbors and friends out of her home. Money she earns she sends to her family in South Sudan. Needless to say, Achan has worked far fewer hours than she would if she could work freely and openly.
Unfortunately, obtaining a cosmetology license was not a feasible option for Achan. As the Institute for Justice noted last year in a report, “Iowa has the dubious distinction of imposing the most red tape on braiders.” Becoming licensed in cosmetology requires a high school education (or its equivalent) and finishing at least 2,100 hours of coursework, or roughly 490 days. In other words, Iowa’s cosmetologist license is more burdensome than the training requirements for dental assistants, bus drivers, emergency medical technicians, animal control officers, child care workers, security guards, pest control applicators and animal breeders—combined. Moreover, attending one of Iowa’s 27 cosmetology schools can cost as much as $22,000—a significant barrier for a working mother.
Incredibly, while braiders must be licensed as cosmetologists to legally work, state law does not require cosmetology schools to actually teach natural hair braiding techniques. So braiders must endure hundreds of hours of instruction on topics completely irrelevant to their careers, like learning how to cut hair and perform perms, facials, manicures and pedicures.
Iowa’s licensing laws extend beyond niche markets like African-style hair braiding, burdening many other entrepreneurs and workers. According to a 2012 report by the Institute for Justice, in Iowa, a license to work for low- and middle-income occupations requires, on average, 181 days of training, $141 in fees and one exam. Moreover, the Brookings Institution found that a third of Iowa’s workforce is licensed—the highest in the nation. By comparison, in Minnesota, Iowa’s demographically similar neighbor to the north, the state licenses 15 percent of its workforce. (Tellingly, Minnesota braiders may choose to register with the state, after completing a 30-hour sanitation course and paying a $20 annual fee.)
While Achan and Aicheria work under the looming dread of government enforcement, agencies in other states have cracked down on unlicensed black hair. In 2010, members of the Orange County Sheriff’s Office in Florida, “dressed in ballistic vests and masks, and with guns drawn,” raided several minority-owned barbershops under the guise of conducting license inspections. Lacking warrants (and apparently any common sense), officers arrested and jailed 35 people for barbering without a license. One of the barbershops sued, arguing the raid violated the owners’ constitutional rights; last year, the U.S. 11th Circuit Court of Appeals denied a “qualified immunity” defense for the officers involved.
In Dallas, Isis Brantley, a popular natural hair stylist, was once arrested and dragged out of her salon by seven undercover and uniformed officers. She was convicted for braiding hair without a cosmetology license. That began a two-decade long struggle to legalize the practice and instruction of African-hair styling, culminating in a federal court victory by IJ and a unanimous vote by the Texas legislature to deregulate braiding earlier this year.
Thankfully, other states have taken action to get the government out of braiders’ hair. Arkansas and Colorado recently freed braiders from licensure, joining Texas and eleven other states that do not license braiders. In Colorado, the main licensing agency even blasted the state’s hairstylist license as “cumbersome” for natural hair braiders, finding just three complaints against braiders from 2000 to 2008. The Institute for Justice has also won cases in federal court on behalf of braiders in California and Utah, while a similar lawsuit is currently ongoing in Missouri.
Achan and Aicheria hope their lawsuit will vindicate economic liberty throughout the Hawkeye State. “I just want the right to earn a living and not feel like I’m a criminal,” Aicheria said.
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For more information on natural hair braiding laws, visit braidingfreedom.com
