I’ve often heard that we as individuals make extreme changes to our appearances for the benefit of the gender we’re attracted to. This comment is often pointed towards women, both cis-gendered and transgendered alike. Unfortunately, we do tend to dress for others without thinking about ourselves. We, as women, dress as an attempt to impress other people, and very rarely do we give thought to personal comfort or how we feel about our appearance. However, this doesn’t just apply to our eyeliner and heels, but to our hair as well. Typically, American women are expected to have shiny, flowing hair. But what we don’t talk about is how much time we spend making every last hair stay perfectly in place. We spend countless hours and dollars in an attempt to tame our curls, dye our greys, and straighten unruly waves. Not to mention, we don’t think about the healthiness of our hair that we essentially destroy with all of the heat and chemicals. I myself had had enough. Before deciding to change my attitude about my hair, I had wavy hair that extended past my shoulders. Every day, I’d wake up an hour earlier than necessary just to do my hair. I would blow dry it, flat iron it, and then put tons of product in it. After realizing that my that my sleep cycle wouldn’t allow me to continue devoting such a huge portion of my precious morning time to my hair, I decided it was time to chop it off. When I told my friends, a few of them were extremely concerned. Their number one concern was not that I might regret my hasty decision, but rather that “People are going to think you’re a lesbian.” To which, I simply thought to myself “How is my sexual orientation going to be displayed via a hair-do?” I then realized I didn’t care what others thought about my hair, because it was mine. This was for my own benefit, and nobody else’s opinion mattered but my own. If I wanted to do this for myself, then why should society’s beliefs intercede? Why was I allowing myself to participate in a stereotype?
The first cut was definitely the hardest. I watched helplessly as bountiful chunks of my hair fell lifelessly onto the floor of the salon. Half-way through, I found myself clutching to the little hair I had left, and wanting to cry out to the stylist “Stop! Stop! My hair…you’ve taken my precious hair away from me!” But I didn’t. I took a deep breath, and braced myself for the final look. An hour and eight inches later, I was finished. I wanted to cry. I looked beautiful. I had never felt so gorgeous in my entire life. I did it just for me, and it felt incredible.
Unfortunately, not everybody in my life rejoiced in my decision like I did. I called the guy I had been dating for a little over a month, only to listen to him say “Wow…it’s, uh, certainly is short…” A week later, he broke up with me, claiming he needed someone more “mellow”. Apparently for him, my haircut was a sign of a deeply rooted rebellious nature that he found unacceptable. He felt like I had stripped a piece of my femininity, thus making him uncomfortable in our relationship. I’m just thankful that he broke up with me before I realized what an insecure misogynist he was.
I don’t regret my decision to cut my hair at all. It has honestly been the best thing I’ve ever done for myself. I implore everyone out there to do something exclusively for themselves. Whether it’s chopping off your hair, or going on a mini-shopping spree, take some time for yourself! It doesn’t have to relate to feminism, although I think that my choice ultimately did. I felt free to express myself in a new way, and I didn’t need my long hair to make me any more of a woman than I already am. Below is a before and after picture, and to be honest, I prefer the second picture.
