Much feminist writing has been done on the subject of hair, but I feel like talking about myself today, so we won’t be discussing that.
As a little girl I had fairly long hair. My mother convinced me to cut my hair when I was five and I agreed, not completely understanding that it wouldn’t immediately grow back. I ended up with a pageboy, a recurring cut through my adult life. The pageboy was dyed a billion colors as I got older, almost always settling for a lighter blonde than my natural blonde.
For a period of about a year, I bleached my hair twice monthly. This ended after an unfortunate incident in which I put some red on top of the yellow fry and it began to fall out. Clumps of hair fell out of my head. I told my mother who tried to salvage the mess but to no avail. We went to the salon and they cut it off one inch from the scalp, leaving me with an orange and white spotted helmet of hair. I was fifteen. My peers immediately assumed that my new haircut was a “coming out” statement and I was judged accordingly. In fact, I still answer questions about my sexuality every now and then when I run into old classmates.
And here is where I update the masses on the weirdness surrounding my current hairstyle.
The haircut I have now has brought the most confounding experiences, especially with older men. I once had plain, long blonde hair (natural, thank you) and about six months ago cut very short bangs. The reactions that I get to the bangs, which are now even shorter than in the picture, are absolutely astounding. Apparently short bangs communicate some sort of “sluttiness” or “easiness” that I never before encountered.
Before, with the plain blonde hair, I was almost always at first considered to fit the stereotypical “blonde” personality until I opened my mouth. I was often told I was high-maintenance and not well-liked by those who are keen on judging hypothetical books by their hypothetical covers. Now I’m seen as some sort of S/M sex symbol. Here is one such example of harassment. And here is another. Both are completely true. I couldn’t make this stuff up.
More recently, I had a younger man approach me and tell me “how great it is” to see “hot goth chicks” in town. You know, because I’m so freaking goth.
And just last night, a comedian at the comedy night I attend asked two of my friends about me and my haircut. He inquired to one of my friends before the show as to who I was, complimenting the bangs. In the middle of his set, I got a phone call and left the room out of courtesy. I took the phone call in the adjoining room, and in the meantime, he sat down at our front row table, held the microphone away from his mouth, and asked my tablemates where I had gone, complimenting the hair again. He kept saying that I looked like someone out of the 1940s, continuously complimenting the hair, but never approached me before or after the show. I’m absolutely floored that he stopped the show to remark on my hair.
I don’t know if I should be grateful he didn’t approach me or just grow out the bangs already.
Having done as much reading as I have on beauty culture and feminism, I always considered hair to be an offshoot of the more primary cultural norms like body shape and weight. I previously thought that there was inherently more weight placed on the cultural significance of hair in the African-American circles than in others (and still think this discourse is necessary), but am beginning to think I ignored the significance of hair in the overall culture of beauty, especially how it can remind of beauty cultures of different eras. Can hair be read as a text?
Frankly I still don’t know what to think. Maybe I’ll knit myself a hat.