‘My Daughter’s Hair’ Wins Big: Why Hair Stories Hit Home Worldwide

When an Iranian film called My Daughter’s Hair shares the top honour at the International Film Festival of India, it tells us something powerful: hair stories resonate far beyond the salon chair. At IFFI 2025 in Goa, the feature stood out in a global field of contenders, using something as seemingly everyday as a daughter’s hair to explore identity, family, culture and control. For anyone who has ever argued about a fringe, fought for their natural curls, or hidden under a wig during treatment, the symbolism is instantly recognisable.

While the festival itself celebrates cinema rather than cosmetology, My Daughter’s Hair slots into a growing wave of films and documentaries that treat hair as a serious lens on womanhood, autonomy and belonging. For a UK audience navigating conversations around natural hair discrimination, hijab bans, school uniform codes and evolving beauty standards, this kind of cultural moment is not just art news; it’s a reflection of lived experience.

Hair on Screen: From ‘Just Styling’ to Serious Storytelling

Hair has long appeared in films as shorthand for transformation — the makeover montage, the post-break-up chop, the rebellious dye job. What’s shifting is how explicitly filmmakers are now interrogating what hair actually means, especially for women and girls.

Although full details of the plot of My Daughter’s Hair are still emerging, its very title hints at common themes: a daughter’s growing independence, a parent’s anxieties, and the competing expectations of community, religion and modernity. Around the world, and very much here in the UK, similar tensions play out in classrooms, workplaces and on high streets, every time someone is told their hair is “unprofessional”, “too big” or “not appropriate”.

Contemporary cinema increasingly treats these experiences as worthy of close, empathetic storytelling. Recent international films and documentaries have explored:

• Natural texture and race: how afro-textured hair is policed in schools or offices.
• Religious and cultural coverings: from hijab and headscarves to traditional braids and wraps.
• Medical journeys: hair loss during chemotherapy or from conditions like alopecia.
• Generational clashes: parents pushing “neatness” or straight hair while younger people embrace natural styles or colour.

Films like My Daughter’s Hair don’t provide policy solutions, but they do something just as important: they humanise the arguments. Viewers see the emotional stakes of a ponytail cut short, a scarf removed, or a wig chosen. That empathy often filters back into how audiences think and talk about the hair of those around them — including in UK salons and homes.

Why Hair Narratives Matter So Deeply in Everyday Life

Any stylist working on a busy Saturday in London, Manchester or Glasgow can confirm it: hair appointments frequently double as therapy sessions. People bring their stress, their milestones and their secrets to the chair. That’s exactly why hair-centred films land with such impact — they echo conversations many of us have in private.

In a British context, hair is tightly woven into discussions about race, gender, religion and class. When a film from Iran, showcased in India, garners attention for a storyline that hinges on a daughter’s hair, it underlines how universal some of these negotiations are. Whether it’s a teenage girl in Tehran wanting a risky cut, or a student in Birmingham fighting a school policy that limits natural hairstyles, the emotional logic is strikingly similar.

For audiences and hair professionals alike, this matters because it reframes hair decisions as part of a wider emotional and social landscape, not vanity. Practical, real-world implications include:

• More sensitive consultations: UK stylists increasingly ask about a client’s lifestyle, cultural context and comfort levels rather than pushing trend-led styles.
• Inclusive salon environments: many salons now train staff on afro-textured hair, religious coverings and trauma-informed communication.
• Conscious language: avoiding loaded terms like “tame”, “fix” or “civilise” when discussing textured or curly hair.

On a personal level, one practical step you can take this week is simple: reflect on a key hair memory — a big chop, a forced style, a first protective braid set — and notice what it reveals about who had power over your image at the time. That awareness often changes how we treat our own hair and how we talk about others’ choices.

Global Festivals, Local Conversations: What UK Hair Lovers Can Take Away

The International Film Festival of India has steadily become a major platform for world cinema, particularly spotlighting voices beyond Hollywood and Western Europe. An Iranian film about hair being honoured there is more than a headline; it’s a sign that global festivals are paying attention to everyday, domestic stories that carry political and emotional weight.

For UK audiences, and especially for those immersed in hair and beauty culture, there are some clear crossovers:

• Cultural parallels: conflicts around daughters’ hair often revolve around modesty, respectability and safety — concerns that exist in many migrant and minority communities here.
• Policy relevance: debates about school and workplace hair codes, including calls to strengthen protection against hair-based discrimination, echo the themes explored on screen.
• Creative inspiration: filmmakers, stylists and content creators can mine these narratives for more nuanced, representative storytelling.

Brands and salons that take hair narratives seriously — recognising that a style can carry memories of migration, faith or rebellion — tend to build more trust. At Hairporium, we treat hair as part of someone’s story rather than a separate beauty accessory, aligning with the kind of empathy these films are trying to foster.

If you’re a UK stylist or salon owner, a practical next step would be to incorporate cultural storytelling into your team training. Discuss real scenarios: a client whose family disapproves of her chosen style, or a young person balancing school rules with natural hair. Using film clips or reviews as conversation starters can help staff see beyond the technical cut and colour.

How Cinema Is Shaping the Future of Hair Conversations

Recognition at major festivals gives films like My Daughter’s Hair a passport into international streaming platforms, film clubs and university courses. Over time, that exposure can subtly shift how societies talk about beauty norms and bodily autonomy. Hair, as a visible and modifiable part of the body, often becomes a safe starting point for these bigger debates.

In the UK, this influence is visible in several ways:

• Media representation: mainstream TV and adverts now feature more natural textures, headscarves and non-Eurocentric styles than even a decade ago.
• Education and advocacy: campaigners often use hair-based stories and documentaries to open discussions in schools about identity, belonging and bullying.
• Consumer expectations: clients increasingly expect salons and brands to be literate in cultural and political aspects of hair, not just the technical styling.

As more international films put hair at the centre of their narratives, UK hair professionals may find clients referencing these stories directly — bringing screenshots of characters, or talking about how a scene mirrored their own family dynamics. Being prepared to listen and respond thoughtfully is now as much a part of good practice as knowing your way around a pair of shears.

If you’re watching an acclaimed film like My Daughter’s Hair when it becomes more widely available, pay attention not only to the hairstyles themselves but to when hair is touched, covered, cut or commented on. Those beats often mark turning points in the character’s journey — and they can highlight similar turning points in our own lives.

Key Takeaways

• The Iranian film My Daughter’s Hair sharing a top honour at IFFI 2025 highlights how deeply hair stories resonate across cultures.
• Hair in cinema increasingly explores identity, autonomy and cultural pressure rather than serving as mere visual decoration.
• UK conversations around natural hair, school codes and religious coverings closely mirror the themes spotlighted in international films.
• Stylists and salons benefit from treating hair choices as emotionally and culturally significant, not just cosmetic preferences.
• Viewers can use films about hair as prompts to reflect on their own experiences and to foster more empathetic, inclusive hair conversations.

Frequently Asked Questions

Why is a film about hair winning a major festival award newsworthy for hair lovers?
Because it validates what many people already feel: that hair is tied to identity, freedom and culture. When juries honour such stories, it reinforces that these everyday struggles matter on a global stage.

Does the success of films like My Daughter’s Hair change anything for UK salons?
Indirectly, yes. They encourage clients to talk more openly about the emotional and cultural reasons behind their hair choices, and they remind professionals to approach consultations with greater sensitivity and curiosity.

How can I personally engage with these hair-centred stories?
Seek out international films, shorts and documentaries that focus on hair. Watch with friends or family and discuss what you recognised from your own life, especially moments of conflict or change around your hair.

Is this mainly relevant to women and girls?
Women and girls are often at the centre of hair-based narratives, but men, non-binary people and children of all genders also experience pressure around hair. Many films now explore those wider perspectives.

What can I do this week to make my hair choices more empowering?
Start by identifying whose voice you hear most clearly when you think about your hair — a parent, a partner, a school, social media. Then choose one small, safe change that reflects your own preference instead, even if it’s as simple as wearing your natural texture for a day.