My Hair

It's been a long time since I've had hair. Other than a few short-lived exceptions, I've kept my head shaved since 2012, and my hair has been above my ears since 2009. Seven years later, I've decided that I'm ready to grow it out and love it the way I was never able to before. In the years leading up to 2009, my hair was a special hell for me; I would put it in a pony tail and cover it with a scarf every, single, day, because I just didn't want to deal with it ever again. It was not just an inconvenience, but a chain connecting me to the social roles I've been rejecting since my childhood.

I don't call myself a woman, but I can attest to the struggle of women. Not having hair hasn't changed anything. I'm still treated just as badly by strange men, and I still have the same values regarding how I want to be treated. In a way, my appearance is just another tool to achieve my goals and alter people's perceptions of myself and humanity. I don't work very hard to make that happen, it's true, but I'm interested in analyzing how people may respond to me differently. I forgot what it was like before.

On a practical level, hair is a weakness. On an emotional level, I've noticed that people, especially heterosexual men, find it less threatening... Those threatened by my personal decisions can continue to kiss my ass. 

If I can't commit to something as basic and organic as this, I ask myself how could I possibly commit to another person and their own growth? In a way it's symbolic for me. This is all about self-discovery, experimentation. Curiosity.

Until next August, at least.

(And no I will not be getting a shape-up or altering my edges. God.)