I Cut My Hair. {Literally & Symbolically.}

I cut my hair. Not a big deal right? Just a trim. Just trying something new. Whatever.

But hair is more than just hair and when I do something new to my hair, it never lacks meaning. It always is foreshadowing my future and clinging or letting go of the past.

Like Lady Gaga said, "This is my prayer: that I'll die living just as free as my hair." I know I'm not the
only one that feels this way. Hair is so much more than hair. I don't mean that in a narcissistic  beauty-obsessed way. I could care less about what my hair looks like or how it makes me look. I could care less about how people portray me based on my hair. It's how my hair makes me feel. It's what my hair means. It's what my hair symbolizes. 

I remember this time in 6th grade, I was at McDonald's with my mother and said, "let's dye my hair red." I showed up to school the next day with a deep red with orange undertones to show my devotion towards spontaneity and eternal connection. 

I remember the time I tried cutting my bangs into a cool side bang in 7th grade so I could impress people at school but ended up looking insane for a year. Learned my lesson. 

I remembered when I took the pledge to not dye my hair for years and I stuck to it. I didn't even curl or straighten my hair either. My hair was always natural, every day, for basically my entire high school career. This was all towards my promise to love who I am naturally and showcase my truest self to the world. 

I remembered the time just a few months ago, I got a blonde streak underneath my hair symbolizing the time I did have blonde hair and my attachments to the memories I had along with that. 

And most importantly, I remember the time I cut my bangs in 10th grade and showed up to school the next day completely transformed. Not only had I experienced an immense amount of change that year, but I was starting to realize who I was as an individual and the strength I held. For me, cutting my bangs was one of the most freeing things in the world.

Since then, I've never changed my blunt-yet-awkwardly-never-perfect bangs. And quite frankly, I don't think I ever will. A lot of people try out the whole bangs thing but end up hating it. But for me, my bangs have become apart of me. It's not because I like how it looks, it's because it became apart of who I am. 

I've always used my hair as a platform for my art and experiences. 

And there I was at 10:30 at night, listening to Ceremonials, cutting random pieces of my hair for no reason. That's right. Some are up to my ear. Some are past my chest. Some are hanging on my shoulders. 

I wanted to feel more free. I wanted to do something with no consequences. I wanted to cut my hair. It felt amazing to see these long strawberry brown pieces fall into the sink so lightly.

I mean, why do we all follow this rule of every piece of hair following a systematic order? My hair being a bunch of different lengths seemed adventurous and cute to me. You can't even tell right away, and I'm sure some people will notice it and be confused but to be quite honest, I don't care. Who says I can't rock this? My hair has more layers now. My hair is more free. My hair doesn't follow any rules. My hair can sway with the wind and go into loose ponytails and I can be free.