If you’ve ever stood shoulder-to-shoulder in a sea of twist-outs and Bantu knots, sweat and edge control battling it out while Frankie Beverly and Maze floated through the air, then you already know CURLFEST is not an event.

It’s a reunion.

A sanctuary.

A reminder that even in a world that tries to shrink us, we take up space. Loudly. Beautifully.

But this year, for the first time in a decade, CURLFEST is pressing pause.

And no, it’s not because the curls fell flat or the community stopped showing up. It’s because the money didn’t.

DEI Didn’t Save Us. We Saved Each Other

Here’s the thing: while corporations were cutting checks to prove they “stood with us,” CURLFEST was never built on their budgets.

It was built on the backs of Black women who bootstrapped a movement straight from their living rooms.

Now, in the aftermath of DEI rollbacks, the mask is off.

The same brands that once slapped “Black-owned” labels on every Instagram post are ghosting the very culture that made them relevant.

Meanwhile, the founders of CURLFEST, the women who turned a simple idea into a cultural reset, are left asking the question we all know too well:

 How do we keep showing up for a community that never stopped showing up for us… without the funding that should’ve been there from the start?

The Pause Is the Protest

They could’ve given us less.

A watered-down version. A quick fix.

A “let’s just make it happen” event. But that’s not CURLFEST.

This pause, it's intentional. It’s a refusal to deliver anything that doesn’t match the magic we’ve built together.

It’s a protest against a system that only funds our culture when it’s trending.

And honestly? We respect it.

Because if there’s one thing Black women know how to do, it’s rest strategically before the next round of brilliance.

Reimagining Sustainability

Let’s be real: Black culture has been the blueprint.

But too often, we’re left watching while outsiders monetize it.

CURLFEST pulling back the curtain isn’t just transparency it’s a call to action.

If this community is going to last, we can’t wait on corporate sponsorships to do what only we can do.

We have to build our own tables, fund our own visions, and protect our own spaces.

This isn’t an ending. It’s a reset.

What’s Next

CURLFEST will be back in 2026, bigger, better, and rooted even deeper in the community that birthed it.

Until then, we stay tapped in, we show grace, and most importantly, we remember that the crown was never theirs to fund in the first place.

Because CURLFEST is us. And we’ve NEVER needed permission to show up for us.

Join the Conversation

We want to hear from you. How do we keep CURLFEST and Black-owned spaces like it alive without waiting on “diversity budgets” that were never built to last?

Drop a comment, share this with your tribe, and let’s talk about how we fund our own freedom.

#FundBlackCulture #4COnly #CurlfestForever