Being selectively bald The first time I had my head shaved was in the first grade. It was late spring, and dad had taken my older brother William out onto the porch, along with a chair and hair clippers, for S O P H I E ’ S a buzz cut. Will went CHOICE without SOPHIA complaint; ALDOUS it was a periodical, casual ritual he and dad had together: Father cuts son’s hair. It was a practical approach to follicle care as well, especially for a little boy that lived to be outside, exploring and hiking through the forest that surrounds our family home. No big deal, right? In my young eyes it certainly was, and it resulted in one of the only “fits” I remember throwing as a child that I still feel was justified: How come my brother got to have his head shaved and I didn’t? Still being at the age where everything your sibling gets that you don’t, except disciplined, can be construed as
inequity, when my father said he wasn’t going to shave my head too, I burst into tears. To be fair, I don’t remember dad coming right out and saying, “Girls don’t shave their heads,” it was couched more along the lines of, “You won’t like it.” However, I insisted I would. Dad finally gave in, ushering me to the chair on the porch. Then came the abrupt, guttural start-up of the clippers followed by their soft, electric drone. With the first methodical swipe, my blonde hair fell to the concrete and I was delighted by the sensation. When my head was completely shorn, I marveled in the feel of the stubble when I ran my hands over it. Dad was a bit surprised at how happy it made me. My mom’s reaction escapes my memory, but I imagine it wasn’t extreme either way. And I honestly can’t remember any teasing from anyone at school. The only truly amusing social run-in I can recall after having my head shaved as a kid was an old-timer who told my dad, “That’s a fine pair of boys you got there” when we were out and about at some community gathering. It didn’t bother me in the least that the man
thought I was a boy, why should it? Gender identity and what that meant in society at large were still years away for me and it wasn’t something I contemplated very much, if at all. I played with Barbie and G.I. Joe. I liked dressing up and pretending I was Cinderella as much as I liked wallowing in mud at the beach, or making stick forts in the woods. I didn’t shave my head again until my early twenties. This was when the follicles hit the fan, so to speak. I was working as a reporter at a small town newspaper and my hair had taken the last of the abuse I had heaped on it in the form of a perm (I shuddered a bit just typing that). My fine, wispy strands became as a crunchy as a bag of Doritos. My ends were shot, so instead of waiting for it to grow out, it was time to clean the canvas, so to speak. How very wrong I was. “Unfeminine.” “Selfish.” “Weird.” “Self-centered.” “No man wants to marry a woman without hair.” “Lesbian.” These were some of the comments and choice words lobbed my way, some of them from my place of work. I won’t go into graphic
detail, because I think you get the point: I had stepped outside the norm of what was expected of a young, white-collar female, and that was bad. “Bad” in that it was unwomanly, butch, unprofessional, and self-absorbed. Call me naive, but I was shocked. It truly didn’t occur to me that anyone would care so much about what I did with my hair. After all, it was mine, right? It didn’t affect my ability to do my job or treat others with kindness. It certainly didn’t make me feel like any less of a woman. But with a few strokes of the clippers, all of that was being called into question in these people’s eyes. It was a rude awakening for someone who doesn’t offer up her own opinion on people’s personal style, unless it’s positive, or I’m asked for a critique. Granted, this was a while back for me, and where I doubted my choice, my family and friends propped me up, reaffirming what I already knew, but had allowed myself to forget under other’s scrutiny: your hair is your own and the fact that anyone would react so negatively says more about them then it does your styling choices.