Hair
One night over dinner with my family, I declared that I hoped to cut off and donate my hair. The hair in question was a foot and a half of frizzy brown locks. My only informed reasoning for fashioning this judgment was the visualization that my hair could provide joy to a child who had lost their own to terminal illness. My parents, despite their uncertainty, decided to let me advance with the idea, and a few weeks later, I exited the salon with a short pixie cut. My mother had watched through her fingers as the stylist chopped off chunks of my hair, while I smiled ear-to-ear. Little did I know, this was just the start of a persisting venture.
Making that commitment set off a chain reaction in my brain. I definitely felt more comfortable with my appearance, but eventually I wondered if there was something more to it. There were countless nights where I would simply lay awake, wrestling thoughts of, “Wait, what if I’m not a girl?” At long last, after an eternity of questions with no answers, I came out for the first time as transgender. Once I realized who I was, hundreds of little moments from my childhood suddenly clicked into place. I realized that when, at age twelve, I had refused to wear the nice skirt my mother laid out for me, it was my subconscious pulling at reality and trying to assist my waking mind to recognize what had to be done. Even today, I still recall trivial events that, at the time, seemed odd, but now add up. I was finally getting somewhere. Despite being deeply in denial, still, I knew I had to tell my parents.
There was just one catch. I was petrified. I couldn’t bring myself to emerge from the pink and frilly closet for four months. Never had a thought of doing it face-to-face crossed my mind, so I wrote and rewrote a letter that I planned on leaving out for them. I struggled to ensure every word was right and presented the smallest chance of triggering a negative reaction. In the time between finishing the letter and when I actually delivered it, I went through a daily cycle of wanting to do it, then getting too anxious and deciding not to. This sequence continued until I saw the film Love, Simon. In that theater, something stirred in me. Watching Simon come out to his parents with (what seemed to be) readiness and positive reactions gave me the courage I needed to come out to my own family. So that night, I left my finalized letter in my parents’ line of sight and beelined for my bedroom.
Despite my fears, my parents were accepting of me. I began gaining confidence as, finally, at least a few people were using my name and pronouns. I started coming out to close friends, all of whom were supportive. Though the rational side of me had no reason to fear, I still always had that chunk of doubt in my head, whispering, “What if you lose them forever? What if they hate you?” I managed to push it away and eventually came out on social media, publicly. I was dumbstruck by the number of kind remarks and messages I received from near-strangers, congratulating me and offering their acclaim. It was incredible. I started the school year as a completely different person. A few months later, my parents set me up with a gender-specializing therapist, and she helped me get on track to officially start my long-awaited transition.
In the course of my journey, I have learned a lot about what it means not only to persevere but to be human. Fighting this battle has brought me closer to myself and connected me with an amazing group of friends. I figured myself out, which is no easy task. My brain kept my real feelings locked away for so long, and even when I pried open that door, it took months to emerge from the denial and internalized prejudice of it all. Living in a society that actively discourages being anything other than what’s “normal” takes a toll on one’s mentality. Cutting my hair was the best decision I have ever made because it channeled me into who I am today. I hope that by simply being myself I can raise confidence in other individuals and, someday, entire communities. Our world deserves to be filled with people who get along.
