So about my hair. (Don’t worry, this is going somewhere.)

I have been relatively proud of my hair ever since first semester. Possibly too proud of my hair. The fact is, the first time it really began to grow out was when I came to college. Now, this was probably because I was finally allowing it to recover from ten years of chlorine-damage (I was a swimmer for a very long time), but I used to joke with my Mom that it was growing out because I was happy. I had made friends, most of my time was taken up by writing and reading and singing, my anxiety was starting to subside—and I suddenly had very, very long hair.

A few days ago, I donated most of that hair at the Bald and the Beautiful. This is a three-day event at Notre Dame where we have the opportunity to donate hair and raise money to support those suffering from cancer, particularly those who experience hair loss during treatment. Now, when I suggested cutting my hair for no reason a little while before this, I was asked why I would want to get rid of the thing that makes me pretty. That wasn’t anyone’s reaction when I suggested donating it. But the comment certainly came back to me and, I’ll admit, made me pause before I signed up to donate twelve inches of hair. Why, I echoed to myself, would I get rid of the thing that makes me pretty? I could certainly support the cause in other ways, right?

I probably could have. But the fact is, it doesn’t really matter what I do with my hair. Does it matter why? Yes. Am I glad that I was able to support someone who needs my hair more than I do? Definitely. But am I worried about whether I looked better before? Not really.

Because physical features are not what make a person beautiful.

I’ll say it again and louder for the people in the back, physical features are not what make a person beautiful.

At least, they don’t for me. And I’m pretty sure they don’t for most people. When I see someone I care about or look up to, appearance is the last thing on my mind. If I’m going to notice anything about them, it’s the way they seem to exude happiness, or peace, or kindness. It’s the way they are confident, caring, and enthusiastic. These things radiate. These things are what make beauty, and the number of people I know who are like this (I’m looking at you, friends, as in all of you) is astronomical. These are the people that I want to be around every day. These are the people that I aspire to be more like. Conventional standards of beauty don’t factor into it.

What I’m shocked by is how many people have told me that I look more like myself this way. That means more than being called beautiful. I am beginning to aspire to be myself, and I am beginning to think that’s exactly what I should be doing.