Why I am Cutting My Hair

Location

20708
United States

Just to clear the air,

I am not a lesbian.

Nor am I suppressing some deep, dark fear

or resentment. 

It is not a “statement.”

It is not a game.

Not to me.

 

I am cutting my hair 

because.

I.

want.

to.

 

I am cutting my hair

because I was so close so many times 

during my childhood

and told 

no--It won’t look pretty.

And I wanted to be pretty.

A princess, even.

What little girl doesn’t dream of that?

I selectively wore pink until I was five and 

danced around the living room in fairy wings and 

long, tulle skirts made

of my imagination.

 

I am cutting my hair

because

I.

want.

to.

 

I am cutting my hair

because I yearn to be rid 

of these locks

these strands of silk which have so often

been the reason I am mistaken for my mother.

And even though I love you more

than the air I breathe

and you was just trying to help me, Mommy-

you should have let me cut my hair

without adding another worry

to my list of blackheads, big feet, crooked nose, bad hips, big lip, stutter.

 

Mommy, I’m an adult now. 

Stop telling me how to fix my hair.

 

I am cutting my hair

because this hair is a history textbook that holds 

the lifeline of my love.

Number one:

Gay. We were fourteen. Great friends now.

Number two:

Love. He was my first love. 

And when I met him I was mere weeks away from scheduling my appointment.

But he gave me that look.

That look of sadness

and pleading

and he said

“Please, Sweetie. I love your hair. Don’t cut it.”

 

So I didn’t. Because I loved him.

And I wanted to make him happy.

And it wasn’t such a big a sacrifice

right?

 

I broke that boy’s heart

but he never let me cut my hair.

 

For god’s sake,

I am cutting my hair

because I think it looks

adorable

and anyone who says it makes me look

like a man can turn around and take another look

at my ass as I walk away.

Still a man?

 

I am cutting my hair

because my mother’s face

contorted into one of

sad disappointment

every time I brought up the subject.

 

Because every boy I have ever loved

has told me that 

he loved it.

 

It. 

My hair.

 

F!@% that.

I will cut my hair if I damn well please

I will snip it into a style that I love

regardless of who else 

“loves it”

or whether or not it makes me look like a suitable

damsel in distress.

Rapunzel, her long locks

luring tall, rich, handsome men into her castle.

 

I am cutting my hair

because if that’s what you’re looking for,

back away and start running.

Because you won’t find one in me.

And you should know

I do not take kindly to men expecting me 

to take a part of myself and

crush

it. 

And if you want to love me

you’re going to have to love

it

as well.

 

I am cutting my hair

because it does not make me 

any less of a woman

and my princess tiara fits better

without all that 

hair.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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