I AM NOT MY HAIR

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(new pic sporting a much better cut!!)

Last week I cut my hair. Drastically. No, it wasn’t some hapless attempt at a one-woman support campaign for Solange Knowles, but rather, a more important cause: Breast Cancer. Last month, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. Being the emotionally detached woman she is, she handled it the same way she would had she been told that there’s no more pudding cups on the buffet table at Ponderosa. I, on the other hand, have been an emotional wreck over it. This is my MOTHER; the matriarch of my family. Will she get through this? What would we do without her? What does this mean for me and my daughters? Will I soon face the same ailment? What about my daughters? Thankfully, her prognosis is good. They found the lump early and she is now undergoing chemotherapy to shrink it before removal.

 So last week she decided to get prepped for hair loss by cutting her down to a “fade”. In total support, I decided to do the same, just not as low. After all, I’ve worn my hair very short back in the late 90’s and rocked it! So this was a walk in the park for me. We get to the barber shop and proceed as planned. She went first. Her haircut was gorgeous. The texture of hair made for a nice soft look to the cut, laying down neatly in its wrapped pattern. Okay so my turn… my cut, not so much.

 I instantly developed a huge bout of self-consciousness upon seeing the end result. It was THE worst cut I’ve ever seen on a woman. I asked if he could cut out the design of the support ribbon near my neckline and it turned out looking more like a dead fish! LOL! I was mortified!! I felt like my sexuality would now be questioned, that no man would ever consider this attractive and worst, other than slapping some weave in my head, I’m stuck with this hairstyle until it grows.  

 My friends and family tried unsuccessfully to reassure me how good I looked and that made me even more ashamed. Ashamed because I now realized how vein I was, how self-centered I was and more importantly, that I forgot what (or who) I did this for. I take nothing away from my thought of the cut itself; I stand by the fact that it is indeed a horrible look on me. But then I imagine what hair loss did to all the women who’ve gone through chemotherapy. Did they experience any drop in self–esteem over not having any hair (or perhaps a breast) or were they thankful just to see another day?

 I’m reminding myself that I am not my hair. And though much of our beauty as women revolves on what’s on the outside, if I am to be the woman I aspire to be, strong and fearless like my mother, I must work on my ‘inside’.

I applaud you, Breast Cancer Survivors and Supporters!

 

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Tags: Beauty, Breast Cancer, Family, Femininity, Hair, Mother, Sense of Self, Sexuality, Solange, Survivor, Woman