I Shaved My Head

For the past couple of years I’ve been toying with the idea of shaving my head. I’m not really sure how the idea first made its way into my brain, but for a long time it was in the same category as skydiving—something I “had to do in life,” with the pending “someday” attached to the end.

In 2008 my aunt was diagnosed with breast cancer. She began chemotherapy and immediately bought several wigs to wear when she lost her hair. One day she took her wig off, pointed to her bald head and said to her five-year-old daughter, “Anna, should I wear my hair like this from now on?” Anna proceeded to cover her eyes and yell, “Ew, Mommy, that’s so gross! Put your hair back on!”

Watching my aunt establish such a skewed idea of self-image with her children has undoubtedly affected my decision to shave my head. It is something I’m still coming to terms with, and it sped up my process immensely. By the summer of 2008, I’d had long, blonde hair for five consecutive years, and I finally decided it was time for a change. I cut it to about mid-neck and, a few months later, into a shaggy bob. I really liked it shorter and started thinking seriously about going all the way and shaving it. I wanted to see all the various dents in my skull.  I wanted to watch my hair in all its various stages of growth, beginning with no hair at all.

I entered Scripps in January of this semester and my level of self-confidence seems to have sky-rocketed.  It only took a few weeks of being here to realize that I was in a safe and accepting environment, and that now would be the perfect time to shave my head.

I decided to do it during spring break.  My boyfriend came to visit and I asked him to bring his electric razor. I didn’t cut it shorter with scissors first or anything—I just put the razor directly to my head and went for it. I expected to cry while doing it or after, but I have yet to shed a tear.

The cliché response does stand true—it feels really liberating. But most of all it has been interesting. I now know the true shape of my head, the amazing feeling of wind touching my scalp with nothing in the way, and how much hair truly protects the head from the cold.  I’d say that has been my biggest obstacle—staying warm.

I have seen an array of reactions since I shaved it. The first response I received from someone in the Scripps community was from a girl in one of my classes to whom I’d never spoken.  She asked why I did it and then said, “Well, you’re rockin’ it!” The majority of responses have had the same positive feeling. People comment on my bone structure and almost always say, “I could never pull that off.” Lots of people assume I am going through chemotherapy. One girl asked my roommate if I had cancer; one of my professors asked outright if I did it because of cancer; the owner of a hat stand at a flea market greeted me then said, “Young lady, are you going through chemotherapy?” I expected reactions like these, but nevertheless it is interesting to note that we sometimes automatically assume someone is sick if they shave his or her head (and, I think it is safe to add that it applies more with women, because to me it seems like for the most part people don’t consider it strange when a man shaves his head).

My gender has only been confused once (that I know of). I was at a French restaurant with some girlfriends and the waiter tried to impress us with his French. He addressed me as “Monsieur” instead of “Mademoiselle,” even though I was wearing a flower-patterned cardigan.

Not all responses have been positive and/or funny. My dad very literally thinks I’m manically depressed. When we were arguing about my reasons for doing it, I told him that I’m different from “the norm” and he responded, “And you choose to be that way.” My best friend’s mom also became worried and asked my friend if I am doing okay. I guess I’m not too surprised by these reactions—particularly my dad’s, since he has always been concerned with image—but it hurts a little to think that people who know me so well still assume I’ve gone off the deep end for a mere haircut.

Nevertheless, I do not regret cutting a single strand of hair. How I feel when the wind blows, the reactions I’ve gotten, and how I handle such reactions have provided me with an absolutely unforgettable experience.