A few months ago, a friend of mine got a fantastic haircut: an adorable little bob, angled from the nape of her neck down to her chin in front. Very flattering, but she was having a hard time enjoying it for a while – “I feel better with short hair…but part of me feels like I should have long if I want to be pretty.” She had come to associate long hair with feminine beauty – but also with something to hide behind. Short hair made her feel more open, she said, more exposed to the world. But also less beautiful. Less feminine. And we were both a little sad about that.
It stayed with me for a while. I couldn’t stand the thought that something so inherent to who we are should be determined by something as trivial as hair. What are we all hiding from? A part of me really wanted to rebel.
So I did.
This summer, unless I’m tutoring, I plan to spend most of my time on house maintenance: I have rooms to paint, bookshelves to move, and the tomatoes & lilies will, alas, not plant themselves. So for the next few months, I will be a hairless domestic goddess. Don’t know how all that balances out in society’s bizarre equation of femininity, but my grandmother used to tell me that I would argue with a sign post – something tells me I will enjoy being a contradiction. 🙂