The Unofficial Duty Station Checklist:
- Update DEERS
- Enroll the kids in school
- Find a Black stylist before your edges give up
If you know, you know.
For Black women in the military community—both in uniform and in camo cargo pants doing the school run—each PCS move is more than boxes and base maps. It’s a high-stakes, sometimes tear-filled mission to find someone who knows their way around a hot comb, respects the importance of a clean part, understands kinky curl patterns and hair types, and doesn’t flinch at shrinkage.
“We Don’t Do That Here.”
– An actual quote from the first salon I walked into at our new duty station.
If you’ve ever sat in a swivel chair and had to explain what a silk press is (again), or heard the dreaded, “We don’t really have products for your type of hair” while side-eying a wall of mousse and dry shampoo, welcome. You are not alone.
Moving every two to three years means you’re constantly resetting. It’s not just where you live or where your kids go to school, but how you care for your crown. In communities where diversity behind the chair is lacking, maintaining your hair isn’t just self-care; it becomes a full-blown tactical op.
It’s More Than Hair—It’s Identity
Hair for Black women isn’t a luxury. It’s a legacy. Whether it’s a silk press for promotion photos or fresh braids before deployment, our hair connects us to culture, creativity, and confidence. When we don’t have access to proper care, it chips away at more than our ends; it messes with our sense of belonging.
And let’s be honest: when your hair is in disarray, your mood follows. That’s not vanity. That’s vibe maintenance.
The Search Party: Powered by Group Chats and God
Here’s how we find stylists in a new town:
- Call your old stylist and beg for someone’s cousin’s roommate’s info
- Dig through Facebook group threads like a cyber detective
- Try to approach someone who has a decent style PX without being weird
- Sending an SOS anytime you meet/see a new sister in your town for that good old word-of-mouth recommendation
You’ll ask:
“Can she press my hair type?”
“Does she double-book?”
“Does she do more than braids?”
“Does she really do natural or just say she does?”
It’s a sacred rite of passage—and if she ends up being the one, you book every appointment three months in advance and pray she doesn’t move before you do.
The PX/BX Salon Chronicles
You walk in with hope. You walk out with trauma. The base salon may be a hit for some, but many of us have learned the hard way that asking for “a trim” might mean losing three inches and a slice of dignity.
There’s a gap, and it’s not just in the part. It’s in representation. Military installations need to do better with inclusive hair care options and stylist directories that actually reflect the community they serve.
Let’s Talk Solutions (Because Sis, We’re Tired)
Here’s how we collectively make the PCS hair hustle easier:
Drop Pins, Not Secrets
If you find a good stylist, SHARE. THE. PLUG. Don’t gatekeep. Your girl in the Facebook group is out here detangling with tears and coconut oil. Help her.
Create a Hair Hustle Highlight
Use your IG stories or TikTok to share reviews, tag stylists, and post your results. Be honest, but kind. Your hair testimony could be someone’s breakthrough.
Let’s Update the Welcome Packets
Command, family readiness groups, even base pages on Facebook—start including a verified local stylist list. Make it as common as the vet recs and the Facebook yard sale group.
In Conclusion:
We PCS often, but our edges deserve consistency. We’re holding down households, careers, and everything in between—the last battle we should be fighting is for a proper silk press.
Final Thought:
The military might move us like pawns, but our crowns? That’s royalty. And royalty deserves care, wherever we land.
