Snip. That was it. Just like that it was all gone. I was too anxious to turn around and look at myself in the mirror. I just stared at my long curly black strands of hair that covered the beige hardwood floors under my chair like a rug. I felt naked and exposed all around, unsure if this is what I wanted. It was too late to second guess myself now though, this was my new reality.

A reality that I underestimated. Everybody tells you change is good. It is a part of life. In with the new, out with the old. However, what they do not tell you is that change comes with a lot of consequences. Consequences I was well aware of, but did not necessarily expect it to be as severe as it was.

I finally get myself to stop staring at the floor and look at my stylist. She kept moving her head side to side trying to figure out if she liked it. She was very supportive of my decision to cut my hair, but she was also a big fan of my long curly hair. “Are you ready to see your haircut,” she asked me. I really wasn’t, but I was not going to tell her that.

You see, in my culture, long hair is highly praised on women, almost signifying a sign of wealth. Short hair on women is viewed as manly and unfeminine. I knew my family was going to have a lot to say about my hair, especially my grandmother. She was very against me cutting my hair. She was mad at my mother for allowing me to do such a “rebellious act of disobedience.” She wanted me to grow it back out, claiming it was very un-ladylike of me to have short hair, to the extent of accusing me of being a lesbian.

There it is! She spun me around and shock filled every ounce of my body. I could not stop touching my head. It was as fuzzy as a peach, but cute as a button. I did not know how to feel, I had so many mixed emotions. I never realized how big my ears were until that very moment. I could no longer hide behind my hair. It was all there for the world to see. I loved it, though! I could not wait to get home and style my hair, I was very excited.

However, it was the world that was not so excited for me. My friends praised me for my bravery, but their eyes could not hide their true feelings they were keeping to themselves. Their mouths became full of back handed compliments, “It’s different,” “I would never cut my hair like that, it looks good though,” and my favorite “but you looked so good with long hair.” Their compliments slowly turned into scary interrogation sessions as they each questioned my decision of cutting my hair. Would they ever question a girl for growing her hair out?

Fortunately, I was not really bothered by the world. I went home and began playing around with my hair. My sisters and my mom instantaneously fell in love with my haircut. They encouraged me to try different looks including a mohawk, fauxhawk, pixie cut, and even do some designs in my hair. My haircuts became less expensive, shampoo lasted longer, styling my hair took a couple seconds, and it all gave me a sense of empowerment. As I became more comfortable with my short hair, I became more and more brave each time with my look. I even started cutting my hair with a barber.

Despite all the questions, comments, and stares, I do not regret cutting my hair. I love every part of having short hair and encourage any women that wants to cut their hair to do so. Short hair and I do not care!