You may not recognize Ziora Ajeroh’s name at first glance, but you’re bound to know the color of her signature reddish-ginger hair. She’s gone viral on social media for various hair moments, including when Ghanaian American musician Amaarae credited her as an inspiration for her hair color.
In addition to being a mainstay on people’s moodboards for her astonishing deep shade of ginger, Ajeroh’s beauty content ranges from filming makeup tutorials for darker-skinned complexions to an occasional video series documenting her natural hair journey. In many of Ajeroh’s TikTok videos, she shares her adoration for wigs that resemble her natural hair texture. She frequently offers tips for healthy hair maintenance, especially for women regularly wearing wigs as a protective style.
Her hair videos “are the most fun to make,” she says. And this content occupies a lesser-known but incredibly important corner for Black hair on social media: #WigTok. Through videos, influencers offer thorough reviews of a wig’s density, durability, and texture to indicate if it’s worth the purchase. Whether viewers have an interest in a low-maintenance hairstyle or a synthetic wig for cosplaying, #WigTok has become more helpful than Pinterest and YouTube for many.
But besides offering practical tips for viewers, #WigTok has created a community for its creators and audience. Ajeroh remembers when Sasha, commonly known on TikTok as @Lipglossssssssss, unapologetically ignited conversations around featurism and texturism and poetically encouraged Black women to embrace their hair’s natural state.
“Watching that video of hers in particular [that] started this wave was so cool to me because I know Lipgloss and TheeSudani were some of the biggest advocates for reorienting the natural hair movement to what it was meant to be,” Ajeroh says. She believes that hair shouldn’t have to be perfect to be celebrated, which is another reason why she veers toward wigs and styles that complement the texture of kinky-coily hair, “as opposed to styles that are antithetical to it.”
Other influencers, like Sae Sharpe, provide content for viewers who want to explore the full creative possibilities when it comes to wigs.
A quick scroll through Sharpe’s profile shows a variety of colors: layered blonde body waves, seamless blue-to-green ombre, and a striped brown-and-black wig, which she says have “inspired so many people to try hair colors and styles that are out of their comfort zone.” After clinching her first brand deal in 2021, Sharpe has been creating hair content for wig companies as a full-time role, and her TikTok has grown to more than 500,000 followers.
In addition to kind messages from her followers, Sharpe has developed bonds with other influencers on #WigTok, including Hamdi, who adorns wigs with stunning designs and paintings. “She’s only at around 26.7K [followers] right now, but I know her page is going to grow exponentially within the next few years,” Sharpe says. “Black women are truly so creative and talented.”
Forming a community with other wig influencers can come in handy for collaborative efforts, but more importantly, this community shares tips for navigating the business side of content creation. “When it comes to negotiating, I definitely figured it out on my own,” Sharpe says. “Companies will try to lowball you like crazy in this space. But as long as you stand your ground, they will pay your rate.”
Kayla, who uploads on YouTube under the pseudonym Nugartzy, primarily uses YouTube to showcase her beauty and hair content, and she agrees that negotiation is an important skill to learn along the way. “One tip I have learned is to not always accept every offer that is given to me,” she says. “Companies can go higher on their offer, [so] I negotiate prices for my work that I think is fair when introduced to a collaboration.”
Ajeroh also believes that Black content creators still aren’t treated with enough respect in the content creation space and often miss out on brand deals. “It just seems like there’s not really as big of an investment into hair for natural hair, because I see the white influencers, they have stuff for their hair [and] cute brand events and things for their hair,” she says. “I understand there’s obviously a market for it, but maybe it’s because the Black-owned businesses don’t necessarily have the funding for those sorts of things.”
Ajeroh’s comments about the lack of events to celebrate Black influencers aren’t surprising, but it’s disheartening to know that this behavior affects a majority of Black influencers, regardless of their following or type of content. So much of pop culture originates in these communities, but content creators are rarely given the credit they deserve.
Regardless of TikTok’s longevity, #WigTok exists because of the creative, curious Black women and hairstylists who have created hair catalogs and carved out supportive communities. “I’ve received so many comments and messages over the years from people who have only ever worn one color or style their whole lives, until I inspired them to try something new,” Sharpe says. “That’s probably what I enjoy the most.”
Noella Williams is a Brooklyn-based freelance culture writer with words in Marie Claire, Teen Vogue, The Washington Post, and more. Noella’s reporting ranges from Black culture to queer identity, but it also includes intersectional veganism, internet culture, and more.
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