The curls kinks and waves that grow out of my scalp

They are filled with love, secrets and fear

These follicles hide me from coming face to face with my true self

Not an image of myself that is concealed behind a mass of darkness that seems to always cloud my vision and that of others

For they don’t see me they see a halo of hair

But if I were to cut it short then what would I be?

Still a woman?

Yes, but not quite

For as the length of my tresses decreases inch by inch a part of me does too

At least to those looking on the outside

They question my decision and judge my appearance

The shorter it gets the longer the stares, the longer the hate, the longer the glares

The curls, kinks and waves that grow out of my scalp

They are a symbol of beauty, race, and fear

These strands are a tool used by society to separate the women from the females

If it’s thick and long you are behaving like a woman in her own right

But if it’s short you are categorized as a female

A female who is trying to make an unwanted declaration to the world

Their justification is that it is a matter of age, rebellion, and impulse

NO!

It is a statement

I am not my hair and my sense of womanhood is not attached to something that’s dead

Our hair is the tie that holds together a preconceived image of femininity

Like endless scrunchies it has snapped

This is what I think as the stylist whips out a set of chrome clippers

If I could change something in this phase of my life it would be the attachment of women to their hair

We hide behind it and have accepted it as the root of what it means to be woman

How we present ourselves should be based on what we believe

How we present ourselves should be based on us and not an image that was created for us but not by us

Leave behind the idea that who you are is determined by how you choose to present yourself

Girls, young ladies, women

 Do not let one factor of who you are be the determining factor of who you are