Diary of a Shaven Head

I want to talk about how I feel right now in terms of my hair. But, in order to make this more genuine, I am pasting old entries to capture how I felt in the past, specifically after I just shaved my head, and then the re-growing process. Actually, these are from my personal journal--so this is rather revealing, (but don't get too excited, I still edited).

January 19, 2006

Diary of Shaven Head

I have taken for granted the sensations in my head without ever realizing it. What it is to feel the wind, to feel water, to feel touch…is so powerful. I have never felt these things, except I suppose as an infant. To suddenly have that ability back is overpowering.

A recovering cancer patient stopped me. She asked me why I buzzed my head, revealing she did it herself before chemotherapy took its toll. I was a bit uncomfortable at first—unsure why she would share this with me. But then she said, ‘and I joked to my kids, it was the first time I felt raindrops.” I don’t know why she would share that as a joke, because it is something so profound. Either way, in that moment, I connected with her.

I almost feel cheesy to say that I feel liberated now, here, like this. But the truth is, I feel more attractive now than I ever have. That is not to say there are not certain moments where I feel naked without my hair. I surprise myself when I feel that way. I understand why I would. My hair is some sort of safety net, some sort of social tool, some way to belong and have a place. But I don’t like that place, so I’m glad it’s gone, and I’m glad my hair is gone. And fuck the message, it just looks awesome. I feel empowered.

It also feels more intimate. I love when Seth touches my head.

October 24, 2006

I have not admitted this to anyone—but my short hair makes me feel invisible. When my head was shaved, I felt exquisite. But this awkward in-between length, socially associated so strongly with non-feminine, butch, unattractive--I feel it.

January 21, 2007

Like I said, the shaved head--loved it. Never felt better. The regrowth--let's just say I learned what it feels like to be the female-outcast, the awkward butch. What's interesting is that I don't even buy into that junk. I love and respect gender benders incredibly, and I do not even believe in compulsory heterosexuality. But I still felt what it means to not look the way you are "supposed" to. This is not to say that people stopped speaking to me, but it is this feeling I cannot explain. Really makes you feel for people who are marginalized for being or looking differently.

Anyway, that is in the past as well. My hair has left the incredibly-awkward phase, and is on the way back to girly town. Although I loved my bare head, I miss having my long, wavy hair with snarls and baby dreads and bed head. So here I am, trying to get my long hair back.

But the thing is, now that I have long-enough hair again, I feel the same (as every one else).

I suppose that is the same as being invisible, in a different form. And it's really bothering me.

I have decided that I do need my shaved head again. It is only a matter of when. Honestly, I want to get my long hair back just out of curiosity. I want to know if it will feel the same as it did before.

If I had time, I would talk about how hair is a social tool of conformity, both racist and gendered. But I have so much work to do...