I Cut my Hair

Cutting my hair is not something I do every other day. In fact, in all memory, I have only cut my hair 3 times. The first time I considered a big chop was after rocking a perm back in high school and watching it slowly shrivel up to about a third of what it used to be, volume-wise. You see, I have fine hair. It can puff up a bit, but is usually quite easy to hold together in a hair tie. In an attempt to save my stringy, struggling hair, and simultaneously try a new look, I cut it into a bob.

Short hair on women has always looked so chic to me, it would easily warrant a second look, and gave the wearer a sense of autonomy. Think bombshells like: Halle Berry, Toni Braxton and Nia long. Later came: Pink, Charlize Theron and Emma Thompson, in her senior years. Most of the women I found stunning or cool were rocking super short hair back in the 90s, well into the 2000s and beyond. I could not resist that bob phase.

That first big chop was my ode to these women, and a chance to live out the fantasy of being short haired. Edgy yet feminine, a powerful combination. It was not that deep.

The next time I took to the scissors was when I returned to my natural, coil-textured hair. I had grown out my bob and was done with straight hair. The natural hair movement was burgeoning the world over. A tidal wave of black women in the diaspora returning to their roots and sweeping in with new products and tutorials to celebrate textured hair. 

The transition started off with growing out my roots, skipping the retouches and trying to style it as other curly and coily chics. One evening, while spending a mellow afternoon in my flat, I decided to chop off all the straight bits. It was completely spontaneous and exhilarating. I could not wait to meet this new version of me, a version I had no memory of.

Meanwhile, in my personal life, I had made an executive decision on my heart. I was going to stop letting myself down and leave a relationship that had been largely dysfunctional. They say a woman shaves her hair when she is making a change. Of course! It makes perfect sense that we would want to shed this crown that sits atop our heads, in the monumental moments of our lives; both good and bad.

Hair determines our appearance, it shapes our faces and makes an impression on those who see us. When you make this inner choice to change; a choice that impacts your life greatly, you may need to see it manifest in the physical world for it to feel real. 

The shedding of hair; grown out of old, dead cells to make way for younger, healthier ones; is the ultimate symbol of becoming a new version of yourself.

Hair is not a big deal to women alone, but men too. Most men will admit to having a special relationship with their barber; a brotherhood of sorts. Trust, understanding and consistency are needed to form that bond. For some men, most of their hair falls off at some point. They reach a crossroads: to let it all go or power through, holding on to the very last strand till the wheels fall off. Balding marks a major shift in men’s adult lives and gives them a distinguished or distinct look. Depends on who you’re asking. It is also the moment when their departure from youth begins to seem truly apparent.

Many men envy those who keep a full head of hair well into their sunset years. Hair isn’t just hair: it is status, it is a position in the attractiveness scale, it is a sign of aging when it starts to grey. And yet, as India Arie sings, “I am not my hair”. She’s right, and though we are indeed, not our hair, it is a significant part of who we appear to be.

About 10 years have passed and the scissors are back in my coils: teasing, releasing and snipping away. This time, I am a new-ish mom, living abroad, learning a new language and reshaping my future. It is a truly transformational time. As the days go by, I start to toy with the idea of chopping it all off, having it shorter than ever before. An idea that might be subconsciously tied to my inner workings of defining this new era. An era veiled in layers of unknowns and limitless possibilities. 

I am starting to find my footing in uncertainty. I have battled with it for more years than I can count. So this time, the big chop is a coming to terms with myself, while surrendering to the process with a symbolic gesture. The other part of it is more practical. After all, I am not the first toddler mom to find shorter hair more manageable. One less thing to think about.

So bye bye tried and tested tresses, it is time for a rest. Hello, to a fresh new look, one I am starting to get used to.

Have you cut your hair before? Watched, as heaps of it fall to the floor. Did it mean anything to you beyond style? Share your thoughts below.