Matte or chrome? Coffin or almond? French tip or classic? Gel or regular polish? Acrylic extensions or natural nails?

Stepping into a nail salon grants self-care-oriented consumers agency over the design of their nail set. But the growing infatuation with the industry has created a mutually destructive power imbalance. Nail technicians and manicurists often take advantage of their clients while reinforcing the toxic system.

In the 1950s, Black women began pioneering the prevalence of nail art in American culture. However, they were met with racist and classist prejudice. Stigmatization misconstrued the historically feminine and prideful culture of nail art, demeaning practitioners in every sense.

In ancient China, economic privilege was emphasized through having long nails, communicating one’s distance from manual labor. For Black women, however, the use of acrylics — synthetic nail extensions — was weaponized to imply impoverished status, because they were working class — thus harboring the inability to grow long nails naturally. 

The nail industry remained primarily exclusive to minority communities until the end of the 20th century, when celebrities began sporting funky nail designs in music videos and on magazine covers. For example, rap artist Lil’ Kim wore the iconic “money nails” in 1999 — now displayed at the Museum of Modern Art. At the time, respect for nail art was still emerging, but her participation cemented a level of prestige.

While the acceptance of nail art by white Western culture conveniently disregarded decades of Black artistry, teetering the line of cultural appropriation, the industry isn’t explicitly reserved for a given ethnic group. Though not quite cultural appropriation, the lack of acknowledgement and reverence to the pioneers of the nail movement is problematic.

Over time, more communities began to take a stake in the industry. Presently, Vietnamese business owners — the majority of which are women — operate over half of the salons in the United States. Following the Vietnam War, many refugees sought new business opportunities in the U.S. Manicuring and nail care were accessible, as the tools and training were inexpensive and provided high profit margins.

However, competition between upscale nail technicians and convenience-salon manicurists introduced another variable: economic disparity for workers.

In California alone, there are over 130,000 licensed nail technicians, encompassing both at-home luxury artists and convenience salons, the latter of which many Vietnamese people run. They face pressure to keep prices low to compete with more specialized nail artists, prioritizing affordability over high-end intricacy. This has led to low wages for workers and budget cuts in the quality of materials used.

For example, ethyl methacrylate, a binding agent used to secure acrylic extensions, is the professional-grade monomer approved for cosmetic applications. 

However, many convenience nail salons utilize methyl methacrylate, a cheaper, dental-grade monomer that is harder to remove. Methyl methacrylate can harm the nail bed’s health and stunt growth later on. Furthermore, infections from trauma to the nail plate aren’t uncommon.

In 2015, California’s Board of Barbering and Cosmetology barred MMA usage due to toxicity; the FDA prohibits pure MMA products.

Even though nail salons feel pressure to keep prices low, the average of the industry as a whole continues to climb, which makes this “affordable” number not-so-affordable after all. Nails that would have cost $40 five years ago reach $120.

While the industry uplifts minority-owned businesses and provides visibility to a culturally significant art form, customers are regularly misguided: They’re often swindled into paying unconscionably high prices with unpronounced risks.     

Meanwhile, many Asian-owned salons are frequent targets of racist rhetoric. Whether it’s New York City, Atlanta or Salt Lake City, racial slurs and hate crimes against Asian nail technicians are far too common.

When you consider that nail technicians are coerced into eliciting illegal products, accepting unethically low wages, and enduring racial harm to cut costs and keep their businesses afloat — while customers pay high prices and risk chemical damage — the recompense doesn’t appear all that rewarding after all. The industry doesn’t serve everyone, let alone anyone.

Protections for both paying clientele and performing technicians are needed. The nuance of acknowledging the industry’s benefits does not negate that the current system is exploitative and overwhelmingly unjust.

The governing administration of the nail industry is not doing a thorough enough job to establish ethical practices on both sides. Customers need to stop abusing their artists just as technicians must put an end to clientele deceit.

To help refocus the industry’s value on creative artistry over a pressured, monetized divider, consumers should start decentering it. The perception of nails should be remodeled to underscore expression, not delegate stereotyped identities to individuals. The character of consumers and technicians is more multifaceted than the industry can extrapolate.

Sophia Ainsworth is a sophomore writing about the underbelly and evolution of the beauty industry in her column “Fairest of Them All,” which runs every other Wednesday.