Seven years ago today, I got my hair cut for the first time in my life. Every year on the monumental anniversary of Clairecut, I reflect on my hair growth and my self-growth.
November 20th, 2017, is a holiday that likely only means something to me. In the days leading up to my first haircut at Brian Graham Salon, (my grandma insisted I work with the best stylist in Minneapolis) I was sick with excitement. The week leading up to my haircut was like the day before Christmas – time couldn’t seem to pass quickly enough. I had strategically planned the big chop to happen during Thanksgiving break; it would give me a few extra days to figure out how to style my hair, and, in my naive mind, these three extra days would allow my hair to grow out if the result was truly disastrous.
Naturally, the timing of my haircut also meant seeing friends and family during the holidays, many of whom took the opportunity to give their (passive-aggressive or bluntly negative) opinions on my hair. Some people told me that I looked “like a boy,” taking the opportunity to further scrutinize my already masculine presentation. Some didn’t even recognize me, calling me by the name of my blonde male cousin who is three years younger than me (for years after the initial cut, I was mistaken for Max until he suddenly grew ~8 inches overnight, and his voice dropped). Others verbally mourned the loss of my hair, telling me that it used to be so long and beautiful, and asking when I would grow it out again. They would kill to have hair like I did.
I learned to put my hair into a ponytail by myself in 5th grade. I was quite inept when it came to hair care; I’ve been unlearning techniques geared toward straight-haired individuals my entire life. By the time I was in 6th grade, I rarely wore my hair down. I had recently started to dress more masculinely and felt that wearing my hair down detracted from that masculinity. Every day, I kept it tightly tied in a high bun or ponytail, often accessorizing with a baseball cap (with a Maluma or Weezer logo on it). My peers would often sneak up behind me and “boop” my bun, smacking me in the back of the head or squeezing and pulling it. I was extremely uncomfortable when people grabbed my hair without asking, particularly in a violent way, but this is not a unique experience for many people who have curly hair.
By 8th grade, I was tired of my monotonous everyday hairstyle and frustrated with the underuse of my hair. One summer night, I worked up the courage to ask my mom if I could cut my hair short. She was skeptical and prompted me to show her reference pictures that we could look at together. I furtively looked for photos but came up short. I couldn’t find any pictures of Black women with my hair type who had short hair that I liked. I could barely even find pictures of Black women who had short hair that I didn’t like. So, I waited.
Eventually, the desire to cut my hair grew so strong that I couldn’t resist anymore. During the summer before 10th grade, Clairecut was not a want, it was a need. I begged my mom to let me cut my hair, explaining that it had potential that could not be reached with my typical high bun. By then, I had gathered reference photos. They were photos of a white man with much looser curls than me, but nonetheless, reference photos. I insisted that I was even more sure than I had been two years ago that this was something I wanted. After some convincing, she somewhat reluctantly agreed; my hair truly did have potential, and it was reflected in my mom’s beautiful, dark, bouncy, luscious coils. My dry, brittle, loosely curled (from being yanked into a bun every day), tangled mess of hair was far from what my mother had and it was not doing me justice.
So, I walked out of Brian Graham Salon on November 20th, 2017, feeling lighter. I felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off of my shoulders (and my head). The curls I cut off contributed to the bounce in my step, right into the frigid cold of late November in Minnesota. I felt the wind on the back of my neck for the first time I could remember; I was exhilarated. I took pictures of my new hair, convinced that if I didn’t document it, it would suddenly disappear and grow back.
From that day on, I have been obsessed with my hair. During middle and high school, loving my hair was an entirely new experience for me, and since then, it has taken some getting used to. I now reflect on times before Clairecut when I wished for straight hair like my friends’ and how, after four hours of sitting patiently while my mom straightened my hair one night, I cried after seeing the result, bolting upstairs to the shower to wash it out. I think about the first few months after Clairecut, when I was receiving positive and negative attention, and often resorted to wearing baseball caps in an attempt to hide my now-exposed head. I bought countless new hair products, practiced detangling my hair, developed the comforting habit of running my fingers over the stubble on the back of my head, and took hundreds of selfies. My newfound confidence blossomed in Brian Graham Salon and bloomed in the months after. I unlocked a part of myself that I had never seen before.
I am eternally grateful for Clairecut. It is a representation of my persistence, sense of self, style, and character growth over the past seven years. Much of my writing on this blog, in my journal, and on countless college, graduate school, scholarship, and fellowship applications draws from this one event. Though it was the one-off event that created the holiday, it was that same one-off event that birthed the part of myself that I love the most. Every year, the Clairecut anniversary is my opportunity to reflect on just how grateful I am to be alive and to be truly myself.
Here, I take the time to reflect on who I’ve grown into in the year since the last Clairecut anniversary. This year has been filled with incredible challenges, joy, grief, stability, transition, and opportunities. I also take time to reflect on the terrible experimental hairstyles I’ve worn over the past seven years. Let’s hope I keep moving forward with both.
There is infinitely more to say about Clairecut. You’ll just have to come back next year. In the meantime, please enjoy a sneak peek of the evolution of myself and my hair over the past seven years.
Play this slideshow to go back in time.
