Personal is Political: Chopping It Off

I turned 30 a few days ago, as Jessica sweetly noted. Suffice it to say that the dawn of my third decade corresponded with a whole shitload of personal upheaval–as Miriam and Samhita reminded me, my Saturn Returns. I don’t go in for new agey stuff all that much (a product of daughter rebellion, mostly), but I swear it has felt like all of that astrological stuff is more than just hooey as of late.
But I digress, I wanted to write about hair. I did that thing that so many people do when their lives change–I tried to externalize it in some symbolic way. This is not my tendency. When I studied abroad in South Africa and almost everyone of my friend got a tattoo, I resisted. I pierced my nose and kept the little stud in for about half a minute in college. But mostly, I look the same as I did when I was about four–long, curly, frizzy hair, not much makeup, a sense of style best described as simple and sometimes playful, but without too much thought.
But this year, I cut off about 10 inches of hair (admittedly, my hair is still not that short). Normally, this would really freak me out. I find women with short hair super attractive, so it’s not that. I think I just carried my hair around with me kind of like a security blanket. It’s what I’ve always known. It makes me feel like me. So cutting it off was sort of an acknowledgment that I’m not totally sure who I am these days (in a good way), and there is no real safety (again, don’t start worrying…this has also been an empowering realization), and so I might as well go through life a little lighter (both literally and metaphorically).
I would be remiss if I didn’t do a bit of gender analysis here, of course. I also think that having long hair, as a cis gendered, fairly straight woman, feels safe in a certain kind of way. There are men who really like short hair, but in my experience the majority of men like long hair. And in the larger culture, of course, long hair denotes femininity and youth and other things glamorized and glorified in our gender binary culture. Cutting off my hair also felt like a bit of a fuck you to that system (I’m not claiming I should get any big radical credit here…I know it’s minuscule in comparison to other radical acts.) I want to be with people who can find non-traditional femininity, or masculine femininity, or whatever the hell you want to call it, sexy too.
When I realized I could donate my hair, it was an awesome added bonus. I didn’t grow it out intending to give it away, but when I realized that my new lease could provide one for someone else, that felt even better.
So far I don’t miss it. In fact, I feel sexy. I feel quick. I can get out of the shower and be ready in about five minutes (the only thing holding me back from this speed had always been untangling my notoriously tangly hair). I feel new.

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