Cut your hair
A haircut made me see myself for the first time
Sorry in advance to my bald readers.
There’s power in a person’s hair.
In the Bible, a woman called Delilah gets some bloke to cut her partner Samson’s hair while he sleeps because he told her that his strength was tied to his uncut hair. That’s some America’s Next Top Model shit.
In the old days, whenever I would visit relatives, much would be made about my hair. I had thick, mousey brown hair past my shoulders, with a pretty severe fringe chopped in by a mother who was clearly trying to cut costs yet simultaneously compromising on quality. My family is of Irish Catholic stock, and long hair on girls is still seen as your crowning glory. Something to be really proud of.
My grandmother in particular always spoke of my hair with such pride as if it was another grandchild. She was so admiring of my hair that one day, when I was about 17 and had come to visit her after having my hair layered for the first time, she was visibly gutted.
“You had beautiful hair,” she sighed.
Despite my trying to tell her that it would grow back to the same thickness as before, she was confused as to why you would ask the hairdresser to thin-out your hair in the first place.
We had differing views. To me, my hair was an albatross around my neck, quite literally in that the thickness and length of it made my back and shoulders ache. Whenever I went outside, the wind would whip my hair into my face. If, heaven forbid, I had been made to wear the ubiquitous 00s-era lip gloss, my hair would stick to my lips, creating the biggest sensory ick of my life.
I had so much hair that I never quite worked out how to style it properly beyond brushing it. I could scrape it into a ponytail, but that requires dexterity that I don’t possess. Like Miley Cyrus, my hair couldn’t be tamed.
Regretfully, it was never totally what you could class as truly clean either because, if I’m being honest, washing long hair in the shower is a tedious process fraught with obstacles for someone like me.
Showers present multiple challenges already without throwing long hair into the equation. Think about it - the sudden changes in temperature as you step in and out of the shower, the feeling of the water dripping onto your skin, remembering the order of things you need to do whilst in the shower. Personal hygiene can be a massive challenge for autistic people.
Of course, having long hair could also be useful. I could hide from people more effectively - it made me feel more insulated from the outside world whilst I peeked through my emo fringe. I could also keep visits to the hairdressers to a minimum and avoid the god-awful banter they expect you. (Readers who prepare a script for their hairdressers visit - my thoughts are with you.)
When I was younger, I used to draw people with short spiky hair. Maybe that’s how I’ve always pictured myself.
Tomboy - by Ren Riley - Wavy Thoughts
The joy of realising that who you are is not who they say you are.
Last year I decided to finally get a short back and sides hair cut.
I don’t know why I did it. Maybe it’s my gender stuff. Maybe it’s the neurodivergence. Maybe it’s the realisation I experienced following the death of a loved one that I am running out of time to live authentically as the person I know myself to be inside (I believe this experience is far more common than we are led to believe).
Seeing the barber take clippers to my hair was far more emotional than I expected it to be. I felt free of my old self.
I could see myself clearly in the mirror for the first time.
The barber who I visit now is also autistic so we literally monologue at each other about our favourite musicians for 20 minutes. No small talk. Glorious.
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Take it easy,
Ren
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