my hair finally free

from the regime of the beanie to fully free expression: the things i love to do with my hair because they make me feel so good inside

once i finally had long hair, society’s restrictions on my bodily movements became too much to bear. within the narrow bounds of cis heteronormative masculinity, i was always trying to find deliberate ways to make my hair appear more feminine, even if i wouldn’t have always acknowledged that out loud. but once i saw how those pretty locks fell down to my shoulders from either side of a beanie, and once i saw the look certain people gave me when i emphasized my hair’s femininity by slowly escalating means, i needed to hold on to that simple magical object (i mean the beanie) that helped me always imagine myself to be presenting in a slightly more feminine way. this feeling put me at ease and made me more comfortable

but the beanie was not enough: the beanie provided only temporary relief, exhilerating and anxiety-relieving but… still temporary. the whole reason for the beanie was itself a concession to cis heteronormativity: with the beanies, i could keep my hair in some kind of permanent semi-femininity that might sometimes be acknowledged but would not get me into any kind of trouble or lead me into any difficult questions from cis men, even if it might generate troubled and confused looks on their faces (as the man picking me up at the airport when i had my curls down and my arm up carrying a tote bag hollered disgustedly at me: “you look like a woman!” my god how affirming no???) anyway all that to say: hence my beloved beanies: pink purple and turquoise: my standard tools this wintertime for bringing out more feminine aspects of my hair without outright rebellion against the patriarchy, though whenever i felt push back, i somehow felt seen in a way that i realized was closer to the way i actually wanted to be seen: because it was the way i felt

then the warmer months arrived. i desperately wanted to wear my beanies and keep my pretty locks flowing down my sides like i imagined a girl’s might, especially since my curls (which i didn’t dare do anything to emphasize) came out best in that structure, but obviously doing so made me become quite disgusting actually because like, it’s hot, and i was quite smelly. i felt trapped: like i had to brush my hair into a neat mostly masculine structure while keeping the femininity on the edges: and i had to keep my hands mostly out of my hair due to the fundamental femininity of the ways i wanted to touch it and be at one with it: all i wanted to do sometimes was swoop my fingers through my locks and run all my hair down one shoulder, but i felt pressure to keep my hands still and tight because i was performing a role that was not me, and when i did step outside of it by various tiny means, i could see the cis men’s looks

summer continued and i could no longer contain myself. when my hair was blowing in the wind, a female friend handed me a black scrunchie. her neighbor, supposedly a cishet man, squirmed with horror in his seat. he even looked away. i felt what i’d be up against if I did what my other friend kept talking about with her bubbly ways: purple ribbon! purple scrunchie! giant purple scrunchie! and then what a man interjected in that moment to say, a look of concern in his eyes: “what about a man bun?”

a man bun! a man bun!!! excuse me, but i want to use every color of scrunchie on the planet i feel like and i want to put my hair in the rainbow butterfly hairclips my friend sent me in the mail. you know ive always hated summer: i hate wearing my clothes in the summer because i hate dressing up as a cis man and i hate the selection of cis man summer clothes so i just avoided spending time in the sun. but now i feel my bare shoulders out and i feel how my soft hair flutters up against the skin while im walking down the street. i reach up and i touch the butterfly dangling on my chest hair from my necklace and i touch it all at once with both hands flowing around freely: bare shoulder, curly lock, butterfly amulet, butterfly tattoo, chest hair… all together and something about my long hair being a part of it and just feeling that hair on my skin and in my hands makes me feel so at one with myself and with my body…. so that’s why then i take my hand and i run my fingers through my soft fluffy hair and i just bring it nicely down across one breast and then once its settled and i’ve sort of run my hands through the rest to make it neat: i rest my hand, scrunchie around the wrist, right on my breast where the curls of my hair land, and i twirl them and twirl them and just gaze out at some trees. i do this over and over and i just so love basking in the feeling of it until the urge comes at last: i must tie my hair back with a pink hair tie

it’s a sensual and spiritual connection between myself and my body. i think it’s good and healthy to feel that sensual confidence in ourselves, to feel attracted to ourselves, to feel excited when we think about ourselves, to twirl our hair against our bare shoulders with our fingers, to rush a soft pony tail through a hair tie and feel it fall nicely down

it’s what i love most about a pony tail, a messy one especially: gently pulling it down across my chest on one side. then people facing me will see it: sometimes i can get the purple scrunchie to poke out a bit so they’ll see that too. they look at me while i twirl my beautiful curly flowing locks around as i dreamily fall in love with myself

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