Specifically, I am talking about MY hair, because it
is unlikely I have much insight into YOUR hair routine correct?
I have had a borderline obsession with my hair for
most of my life. It is something that I consider one of my best, and most
defining, features. And while I have not always appreciated, or embraced the
chaos that is the norm for natural curly hair, at this point in time I am
extremely protective of it.
Some history that may be helpful in understanding my
feelings.
When I was about 5 or 6 my hair was a soft brown, very
thick with large waves and it fell to my waist. I loved my hair. I loved the
feeling of Mom brushing out my hair. We used to take regular baths but even at
that age we only washed my hair once a week, partly because it really did not
need to be done more often and it took a LONG time to dry – usually overnight.
Then one day my grandmother (Mom’s mother) decided
that such long hair was too much work for my mother to deal with every day when
getting me ready for school. This conclusion she reached without EVER talking
to Mom about it. So during a regular “spend and afternoon with the grandparents”
outing, she took me to her hair dresser. I had NO idea that I was about to have
my hair chopped off. Before I really understood what was going on, this woman I
did not know grabbed a handful of my hair around ear level and cut a hank off
in one fell swoop. I do remember being horrified seeing all my hair on the
floor and screaming. But she just continued to cut and cut and cut – and when I
was finally allowed to look into a mirror my hair had been reduced to a very
short, very boyish, pixie cut that totally exposed my neck and ears.
I have a feeling that grandpa was NOT privy to this
plan as it was a very quiet trip back to my house. But quiet went out the
window when my mother got her first look at what had happened. I was sent to my
room but could not escape the yelling Mom was directing at her mother. I cried
for weeks and asked when I could get my hair back. It’s hard at that age to
understand the permanence of a lot of events.
This incident was just one of those that happened with
my grandmother when I was young, and each one undermined my trust in adults.
At 13 I chose to cut my hair short – but not as short as a pixie. But this time
I think it was in an effort to gain approval from my father. He had always said
he thought I looked better with short hair, but I just look very, very young.
And again, after a week I regretted cutting it. The last time I got a drastic
style change I was 21 and I think I was trying to conform to some sort of
societal expectation that as an adult you have short hair. But again it never
felt like ME.
So, 35+ years later and I have not cut any significant
amount off the length of my hair in those years. I wish that meant that my hair
was now longer than I am tall, but unfortunately my hair’s natural stopping
point is at my waist. And that is only visible when it is soaking wet. And I
have no plans to cut it in the future either. In fact, when you consider hair
styles throughout history – most women never cut their hair – regardless of
their age – unless they got very ill.
Glad the rules around styles are more relaxed now so
that I can wear my hair however I want for as long as I want.
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