Two weeks ago, I shaved off 16+ inches of healthy virgin hair and donated it to Wigs For Kids. Since then, I’ve had a lot of people/women ask me “why”, and “aren’t you nervous” and the ubiquitous “I don’t want to look like a boy!” This post is about charity and the actual hair donation process, but it’s also a commentary of gender identity and expression that, as an adult, I finally understand.
When I was 19, I had very short hair (buzzed sides and a low ‘hawk) and I loved it. Right around the time when I started making improvements to my health, I decided to also grow my hair out with the intent to donate it eventually, knowing that it would be particularly healthy and strong hair.
The years went by. My hair grew longer; my body became slimmer. With fascination and a strange sense of detachment, I watched my apperance change into an Average American Pretty Woman. I began to dress the part more frequently. I bought push-up bras and Spanx and form-fitting skirts. I affected an increasingly stronger performance of femininity, feeling that it was somehow required and expected in accordance with my slowly changing form. And my hair flowed and my waist narrowed and the emotional gap widened.
By the time I turned 23, I came to realize that I felt in constant disconnect with myself. When asked to imagine what I looked like, I found that no particular image came to mind other than factual information such as “I have brown hair” and “I am 5 foot 7″. I learned to turn a blind eye to my lack of self-image and spent a lot of mental energy dissociating from all the things I couldn’t understand about myself.
A few months ago, I shook the dust off a thought in my deep subconscious and looked at it directly for the first time: The concept of gender. I always thought of myself as a woman, but was I actually sure? Had I assumed that only because I had “been a woman” for so long that I didn’t realize that I wasn’t sure? I thought about gender for a long, anxious time during which I often felt like I was drifting through a stress dream because for some reason it was so important that I figure this out. Late one night as I was falling asleep, I suddenly had my answer and I knew it was the right one.
My gender identity is “woman” and I am at peace with that. My individual expression of my woman-ness is, however, not traditionally feminine and I am relieved to finally understand this dynamic. If I sometimes express my gender in a masculine or neutral way, that doesn’t make me any less of a woman. Gender identity and expression are not the same thing! (I have “known” this intellectually for many years, but it’s different when putting it into actual practice.)
After this exhausting mental go-round, I realized that a major source of that disconnect and anxiety was all the long, pretty hair. Besides, the fact that it took time and effort to maintain something that I wasn’t fond of or attached to in any way, was a constant source of stress and dismay.
So I shaved my head and gave away that pretty hair. My quality of life improved immediately. The sense of disconnect is gone. I can clearly see myself in my mind’s eye, and the image matches what I see in the mirror. I feel attractive and confident. And now that the pressure to perform stereotypical femininity is taken off me, I feel more comfortable actually being feminine when I wake up feelin’ girly, and I’m happier doing it. Like, you might see me on the street wearing jeans and boots and a buzzed head, but you betcha I might be wearing a matching lacy bra and panties set and feeling smug and pretty about that. Or I might pull out a bodycon dress and fierce eyes and be a glammed-out rock star. Or I might throw on a grubby flannel and a push-up bra and Army pants and a full face of makeup or some or none of those things at any particular time and be totally comfortable and happy with it. The versatility of expression available to me right now is simply glorious, and even though I know I technically had that freedom before, everything is different now that certain nagging pressure is gone.
And the practical element is wonderful. I spend 10 hours a week in martial arts classes. I’m a bike commuter in a major urban area and am enthusiastic about helmet usage. I have a busy schedule and any time I can use to work on my actual life instead of washing and drying my stupid hair is a precious resource. Long hair simply has no place in my life, and I’m so relieved and grateful to be rid of it in the best way possible.
So yeah, this has been a post about adult life and understanding myself and gender expression and I thank you if you read to the end. I’m done “performing” anything other than myself. Everyone out there: You do you. Or whatever you’re comfortable with, honestly, but being me feels much better than pretending to be what’s expected of me. Even though I get a lot of rude and awkward questions these days. It’s worth it.
(This is also a photoset describing the hair donation process, for anyone who’s been curious!)
