I wanted short hair for as long as I can remember. Afraid of ridicule my mother resisted because I would look like a boy and, my ears stick out so people would make fun of me. In 2020, and especially to those of you reading this, perhaps that sounds judgmental and dis-empowering. It was, but it happened within a different context. In the early 90’s people were men, women or men in dresses – freaks of the night.

For what it is worth, people made fun of me anyway.

Starting late in high school, well after my breasts ruined the lay of the garment, I looked for excuses to wear men’s button up shirts. I remember my college girlfriend saying, “Why don’t you just buy men’s pants if you want them?” The transformation it created went to my core. I loved how square and broad my body looked – except for those pesky breasts.

“Why don’t you just get a men’s haircut if that is what you want?” The feel of the clippers on the back of my head. Watching all my hair fall to the floor. I felt handsome AF. I felt attractive for the first time ever. My ears still stuck out but…they are kind of cute.

The haircut didn’t make me any less of a freak in my midsize midwest city. But my confidence changed. It was clear that I was embracing my otherness. That I was not to be effed with. I walked with a saunter that said, “If you don’t approve, I don’t care.”

Time for another haircut. “Is she your sister?” She is actually my girlfriend. I assure you we look nothing alike. I just say, “No.” That cut results in weirdly angled pixie sideburns. Disempowering.

Time for another haircut. “Are you a runner?” “No…” “Oh.” Sustained silence. “Are you a swimmer?” Now, in retrospect I was in much better shape then than now, but I was by no means athletic. What is with this line of questioning? Why can’t I just get a haircut in silence??

I don’t make enough money to have a regular person in this role and, I had yet to meet someone I felt comfortable with. I decide to take control of the conversation and mention what a great day it has been out riding my motorcycle. “Oh that’s why.” “Why?” “Why you have short hair. I thought you were a swimmer or something.”

How can I transform my face so no one ever talks to me again?