Page 82 - North Star Magazine 2022

At least there, we agree, and she lets go with a shrug.
“It’s not bad, but I have to say, you look like a completely different person.”
That’s the point, I want to shout in her face, that’s the point of everything! I don’t want to be who I was, I want no one to recognize me when I eventually go back home. I don’t want to feel my ex-boyfriend’s hands in my hair, telling me how beautiful it is, or the relentless tug of countless curious hands on my scalp.
Your hair is beautiful today, what beautiful hair you have, my God your hair is gorgeous, a mask I could grow to hide behind as I tried to figure out who I was. No one looks at you if your hair is your main attraction.
My grandmother answers the facetime call and screams, so loud that I think she’s been hurt. Her sobs are so powerful that my grandfather comes to check on her, and doesn’t say anything as he stares into the camera.
Waves of shame and anxiety pulse through me as I wait for her to say something, anything other than that damned screaming.
“What have you done to yourself?”
The words stop me in my tracks. To myself? I’ve done nothing to myself, what does she mean?
“Your beautiful hair, oh my God. How could you do that? You look like a dyke!”
I burst into tears and hang up, too mortified to listen to her any longer. I don’t understand. It has been three hours since I made the decision to cut away my mask and already I am being made to regret it. Suddenly, apparently, my ultimate symbol of femininity has been ripped away, rendering me completely unknown to everyone around me.
To her I am a wild card, unpredictable, unhinged. Who knows what women I will run after, what horrifying things I will do to my body, what gender I will be.
But... none of those things are relevant.
I just cut my hair because I wanted to be seen.
Is that so bad, truly?
I just want to be appreciated without that status symbol. My hair has
been the most beautiful thing about me for years, according to everyone else, but I know that’s not the case. For once I want someone to see my eyes, the freckles on my cheeks, the curve of my mouth, and not just make another comment about whatever my hair is doing that day.