The big chop. The new ‘do. The cute cut.
Call it whatever you want to call it but I did it!
Yep, I cut my hair.
First, my hair wasn’t doing so well in this weather. The locks had started to fray, split and break off because of the dry air. The dreds were also super yucky from the windy and dusty conditions here. Since I don’t have running water in my hut, it was very difficult to properly clean my scalp.
Next, I had been wanting to cut them off since Pre-Service Training last fall but I was scared. Scared of how big I thought my head was going to be. I know this sounds vain, but I didn’t want to walk around with a head the size of a soccer ball. Once I was certain I was going to cut off my hair, I had only told a few people who assured me that a short natural would do my head justice.
Also, it was time. I first grew my locks in high school, when I needed a hairstyle that would fit my distance-running lifestyle. That was about ten years ago! I’m 28 now and have turned a new leaf. And I think now, my haircut reflects exactly where I am in life.
Finally, I’m in Africa, where the short natural reigns supreme. If I’m going to cut my hair off, this is definitely the place to do it!
My thoughts about this bold cut have changed over time, though.
My adoptive mother cut my hair off when I was in the first grade because I kept tinkering with the styles she’d give me. One day at school, a Boy Scout representative came into my classroom to talk about the organization. When she was done talking, she placed brochures on all the boys’ desks.
Guess who got one?
“I’m not a boy, I’m a girl,” I tearfully told the representative.
I felt so ugly with my natural back then.
I feel as regal as the hair on my head.