It's time to stop judging women for wearing nail art

One of my favourite beauty rituals is getting a manicure every fortnight.

I love popping into my local nail bar and being able to switch off for an hour or so while I indulge in the centuries-old practice of having my talons tended to.

Depending on how much time I have or my mood (and sometimes my budget!), I'll try out whatever nail trend I've seen on Instagram.

I've matched my nails to my outfits, had bling stuck on them, promoted events through the nails — you name it, I'll try it at least once.

I remember the first time I got my first set of acrylics. I was 18 and I opted for a French manicure with a twist — the pointy tips would be a rainbow of bright neon colours.

I still remember the nail technician carefully picking out individual acrylic nails to match the shape of my own nails, and then carefully applying powdered gel to hold the shape in place before carefully and meticulously shaping each nail one by one, and then applying the colours.

I'd never seen my nails that long before.

Upon seeing my nails, a few friends at the time remarked at how "tacky" they looked and why I bothered to get my nails done like that. I spent the next few days painfully peeling them off. I didn't attempt to get acrylics for at least a decade after that.

These days, as much as I love the look of long, stiletto-style nails, on a practical level, I only get them if I'm going away on holiday. As someone whose career depends typing for hours on end, the length tends to get in the way — that, and I've also had awful instances when my nails have been damaged from the gels and acrylics used.

As a result, I'm left to admire the beautiful creations I come across on Instagram and fantasise about when I might be able to realistically emulate some of the styles.

But, like most forms of contemporary fashion, nail art has a long and complicated history, intertwined with racial and class discrimination.

Nail art has been around for thousands for years

In recent years, long, artificial nails have gained mainstream popularity, largely due to social media and celebrities like Cardi B embracing it.

But people have been adorning their nails with bling for thousands of years — 7,000 to be exact.

In ancient Babylon, for example, it was the men that would colour their nails with kohl. In those days, the colours you wore on your nails were a marker of your social status — black symbolised you were very important people, while green was reserved for people in the lower classes.

Ancient Egyptian royalty, Nefertiti, also painted her talons to signify her noble status. Her colour of choice (and my go-to mani colour)? Red.

Cleopatra, meanwhile, would have her nails stained by the liquid from the henna plant which created rusty shades with gold undertones.

While these bright colours were embraced by these beauties, women who belonged to lower social classes had to wear basic pastel colours.

Bright colours weren't only a signifier of status in ancient Egypt, but in ancient China as well. There, women also grew their nails long and painted to denote their high-ranking status.

The complicated class history of nail art

With the emergence of nail technology, nail length became a symbol of class in the 20th century. Middle-class women favoured short, nude nails in the 1900s to mark their privilege.

And that hasn't really changed. While many women (and men) are embracing this trend, working-class women — especially women of colour — have historically been derided for embracing long, embellished talons.

Yet celebrities like Kylie Jenner are celebrated for adopting a trend that women from these communities have long been judged for.

An example of this is the late track-and-field athlete, Florence "Flo-Jo" Griffith Joyner. She broke world records in the late 80s on the running track while also embracing her love of glamour and beauty. However, her successes on the field would be overshadowed with the emphasis journalists would place on her nails and divided opinion, from admiration to disgust.

I think about women like Flo-Jo who chose to express themselves and their individuality through their nails, yet were "othered" for it.

I think about the ways in which society continues to subtly impose these class and race signifiers in places where one wouldn't expect them — nail shops.

Just like women (and men) centuries before used nails to mark their place in society, we continue to do the same when we celebrate some women's beauty choices yet deride others that do the same based on their race or class.