The Baldiversary and the Art of Hair

July 9th, 2023 is the anniversary of the day that I shaved my head. All of my shoulder-length hair suddenly gone. And man, did it feel fantastic.

For those who have known me a long time, they know that I have always expressed my creativity through my hair. Hair was a huge way for me to create identity for years; to let go of global expectations in life, and a way to take charge; to take control of something that was wholely mine.

Many people with trauma appreciate the need to express themselves via their hair. However, this goes beyond trauma - beyond the need to attach oneself to an ethos. Hair has been an expression since humans started growing it.

With each new hairstyle, a new life was born. A new era. A new person unveiled. I was doing a personal eras tour available for everyone on social media to see for decades before the thought even entered Taylor Swift’s mind. All in all, I’d say within a five year period I had over fifty different hair styles.

This enabled me to explore so much of myself that I’d previously thought of as ‘off limits’, such as my own sexuality. In changing my hair, I changed the way I perceived the world of creativity. Not only was every physical medium a canvas, but the body became a playground. At 18, I got my first three tattoos. I got another at twenty and haven’t had one since. I also got a lip piercing at 19. My Nana LOVED that…

Despite everyone questioning my emotional and mental stability, (as they should have, but not for changing my hair and body), I felt freer than I had since I was a wee lass, playing in the mud on the lakeshore and making mud pottery with my beloved dog, Frankie. Changing my hair also gave me the freedom to change my mind. To challenge faulty beliefs. To open myself to the unknown. To grow.

Taking control of my own destiny for the first time ever, I began to blossom. Through the years, I started dealing with awful body image issues and unspeakable traumas. Dying my hair indirectly led me to healing and learning to deeply love myself in all of the ways.

Last July when I shaved my head, I was actually called to by the universe. I’d been being nudged since at least May, but I was apprehensive. What would I think of it? What would everyone else think of it? More importantly, could I live with myself if I ignored the call?

I realized after weeks of deliberation that the universe wasn't going away. It’s funny how that happens - when something is meant for you, the source doesn’t stop knocking. You can either answer the door, or the door will eventually get blown off the hinges. Either way, the door is opening.

Holding the clippers I felt nothing but pure liveliness. Blood felt like electricity in the veins. Jolting, electrifying. I remember with the first buzz down the middle, I laughed and then immediately cried. Shaving that hair saved me from everything I’d carried with me up to that moment. Saved me from over-identifying. Saved me from burdening the heaviness of fear. Saved me from carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders.

Yesterday I was leaving an appointment when an elderly woman looked up at me with her oxygen under her nose and left leg jutted to the side as she sat waiting for her ride on the bus bench. After observing my shaven head, without missing a beat, she said:

“Hey, I’m about to go home and do to my head what you’ve got!”

So, I responded.

“It’s GREAT, isn’t it?”

“DAMN STRAIGHT!” she yelled, despite her nasal cannula. “Been doing it for years.”

People often ask me if I’ll grow it back, or rather: when. The answer is always the same: I don’t know that I ever will. Being bald has been one of the single most amazing experiences of my life. Releasing your need to have hair, to have to look a certain way, is a type of freedom most women will never experience and it leaves me truly saddened. Powerful liberation comes in the form of a pair of cheap clippers.

Of course I keep a few fun wigs around, just to continue my own exploration of creativity. Rarely, I also need hair for when I film creative ventures. Ultimately, the bald head is sticking around for a while longer.

And honestly? I couldn’t be more thrilled. One baldiversary down, with a lifetime to go!