Why did I cut my hair? Simple. I felt like it.
As I mentioned in my Best of ’16 post, I want to break habits, and one, in particular, is asking for permission to live. I do this thing where I call my girlfriends, not for opinions, but to persuade me to do or not do something. I used to evaluate my decision making based upon how someone else would feel. And now that I’m fully aware of my actions;
THAT. SHIT. IS. OUT.
Days before I transitioned I didn’t tell anyone because…
- I wanted that experience to be clear from any point of view that wasn’t my own.
- I don’t need fucking permission to live my life. I can do whatever, whenever, however.
Being stripped down has brought on a [take it or leave it] attitude. Hair will never make or break me. The life I want to lead is about being unapologetically yourself. Even if that means making people uncomfortable. And I’m okay with that because if what I do makes you uneasy, I encourage you to have a talk with yourself *news flash* it’s not my problem.
There’s something about looking in the mirror, embracing my imperfections, and knowing my beauty still runs deep within my spirit. Whacking off my hair has stripped the little shield I had left. I cannot hide — I will not hide anymore.
Feature Photo by: George Davis
Blog post Photos by: Osese Oboh