Day 3: Why I Cut My Hair

I recently cut my hair. Short. Like a boy. A fvck boy to be honest, but no matter.

To many, it came as a shock which is understandable because I never expressed to people how badly I’ve wanted to cut my hair since 2014.

Yes, 2014.

I’ve wanted my hair short since I was 16. I was toying with the idea for a while, looking at pictures of beautiful women with short hair on Pinterest. I told my mother and brother I wanted to cut my hair. They both asked me if I was sure. I said I was. They both said my hair wouldn’t grow back which to this day, I still don’t understand. Of course, my hair is going to grow back. I mean sure, my hair grows at a snail’s pace but it still grows. And say, for whatever unexplainable reason my hair does not grow, how bad will it really be if I still look bomb dot com?

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Because here’s the thing, I believe that people look their best and their most beautiful when they are their natural selves. God does not make mistakes, fam. Your natural self is a freaking view to behold. I come from a family of relatively weak hair. Most of my aunts from my mother’s side have short hair and they all look stunning. I’m not saying I was predisposed to have short hair because one can always fight genetics but I felt having short hair was natural for me. I wasn’t scared. There was never a single thought in my mind of me potentially looking bad with short hair. That reality did not exist. At that time in grade 10, I was ready to cut my hair, but my family was not, so I put it on hold and said I would wait until I was out of high school.

Come 2017, I’m living in Cape Town. I’m broke because I spend all my money on food. I cannot afford expensive hair stylists or hair products. My hair is suffering. All of a sudden, taking care of my hair is overwhelming, too time-consuming, and too expensive.  I see myself scrolling through pins of beautiful, short-haired women and I say, “You know what? It’s time. I’m cutting my hair.” I text all my homies and tell them I’m considering cutting my hair. They all fully support me and say, “Go for it!” I look through pins and find the hairstyle I want. I decide I’ll do the big chop when I’m in Namibia because my friends can recommend reliable barbers. I come home, wash my hair, do a whole treatment and give it that extra TLC as a last hoorah, a tribute, an act of gratitude for being on my head. Then I go to the barber and cut it all off.

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I feel like a new me: the me I was always meant to be. I’m in love. I knew this was a decision I would not regret and I don’t. I feel comfortable with short hair. It feels natural to me like this is my authentic self. I feel like I’m no longer hiding behind a bun or a bunch of hair clips. I feel free. I don’t have to worry about styling my hair for different outfits because short hair goes with everything and brings a little bit of an edge to whatever I wear which is amazing.

 

There’s so much freedom in having short hair. There’s no pressure or expectation. This is my hair. This is how it is. This is how it looks. This is how it behaves. Take it or leave it. Love it or hate it.

Short hair is so unapologetic and I love that! It’s just so authentically itself. So bold. So true. So confident.

This currently stands as one of the best decisions I’ve made in my life. It has given me a type of confidence I cannot even begin to describe.

Short hair is life. I am never going back. I am home.

3 thoughts on “Day 3: Why I Cut My Hair

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