Hair is Sacred

 

If you were to ask me what is my favourite feature of my body, no matter what age, I'd probably be quick to answer with "My hair."

Honestly, genetics play a big part in the appearance and resilience of my hair. Nonetheless, I am still diligent in how I care for it.

Starting probably around my tween years is when I started researching into hair and skincare. I was starting to develop acne, and my hair felt like nothing more than a big knot. Proactive didn't help with the zits, and only left me itching to peel my skin off. Aussie wasn't making it any easier to brush out my hair, and it felt stupid dry on top of that.

Long story short, I'd compiled research and did my own trials to eventually come up with routines and products that actually produced results that made me comfortable and happier.

-This is about my hair, but I'd mentioned my skin because, goddamn, that Proactive and Neutrogena shit was garbage (not to mention, I was a teen full of raging hormones, you're gonna have acne, just be patient).-

I had to be more involved in my haircare aside from simply washing with overpowering shampoos/conditioners and brushing. Over time, I began to grow more fond of my hair. I felt it was a powerful part of me.

I'd experimented with short cuts up until I was about sixteen. That's when I'd made the decision to venerate such a meaningful part of my being by letting it grow out.

However, around 2018, after spending the previous year slowly slipping into a hopeless place, I'd felt trapped. So, one summer night, I'd stepped into the bathtub of the empty apartment my mother and I shared, flipped my head upside down, and then chopped my hair off maybe an inch from the scalp.

Sounds a bit anticlimactic, but chopping off my hair was a drastic transition for me. It meant I was taking back my own will, pulling away from the person that I was; mourning the opportunities I'd passed up, my childhood, and the person that'd been suffocated under the mounting expectations.

That was the doorway for me, to a new version of myself and my life. Now here I am, almost six years later with hair that reaches past my rear, new opportunities, a broader perspective, and a bigger world.

My hair care routine has been tweaked since then, the twenty minutes it takes me to brush and braid are almost a meditative experience, plus, I have a new rule:

Always burn fallen/cut hair.

Whatever hair I pluck from my brush and comb, or trim off, I don't throw away. Instead, I burn it.

I have no solid explanation for this, other than that I feel my hair is sacred; therefore, I want to send it off, not leave it to accumulate in a gutter.