Ah, hair. Whether we have it or not, it is a huge aspect of society. However, as society has evolved, so has the stigma around hair and the identity of the person connected to it. Who you are depending on what your hair looks like, and it has been this way for years. If you go back to the 1980's, you could tell who the punks were based on their wild hair.
Nowadays, hair can lead to assumptions about one's gender, sexual identity, race, or religion. Having particular hairstyles can thrust you into categories that you weren't aware of until someone comes along and reminds you. Being someone who has experienced this first hand, I can say that it is not as easy to brush off the label as it may seem.
Growing up in a strict household, my haircuts were determined for me until around 3rd or 4th grade. This was also attributed to the fact that I was a gymnast who needed enough hair to put in a high ponytail. Once I was allowed to make my own decisions, it was hard to figure out what I wanted to do, mainly because I had not experimented before. I couldn't settle on a hairstyle that I liked, due to the fear that others wouldn't like it.
It wasn't until high school that I started truly messing with my hair, and when I say mess, I mean going wild with my decisions. Right before my sophomore year, I chose to dye my hair for the first time. Having the freedom to have a different hair color was exhilarating. It was my first experience trying something new, and this event helped jumpstart my ongoing hair journey.
For months, I had been in an emotional slump. I felt like a had so much weight just sitting on my shoulders. In March of 2015, I made the adventurous decision to cut all my hair off. Within minutes, my hair went from touching my shoulders to barely touching my ears. As soon as I saw my finished look in the mirror, I almost cried.
I felt like a new person, and the weight had vanished. However, my happiness would turn to confusion. Everyone knows that high school rumors spread like wildfire. Within days, people around me started to think that I was a lesbian, just because of my hair. This made me think, could my entire perceived identity change, just because I decided to reinvent myself?
It's unfortunate that presumptions can be made when looking at someone who has hair. If a girl has short hair, then she must be a lesbian. If she's blonde, she's dumb. If a guy has long hair, he's dirty or a stoner. If anyone has a hair color that isn't natural, then they must be either goth, punk, emo, or crazy. Why are these labels real?
Why can't we live in a world when people can wear their hair however they want without repercussions. To the person reading this: you do whatever you want with your hair. It does not define you. YOU define YOU. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.
