I have not done any research on this topic so this is really from experience. It is also a note specially written for a part of me that I have been emotionally attached to for years.
Twenty-five is not such a bad age to clock, unless you let it pass so quick and forget to enjoy what life offers. Because knowing that in a few months, you’ll be referred to as the girl in her late 20s, is really a big deal regardless of how I dismiss it.
I woke up on the morning of 7-7-17 and dressed to meet with a client. I had three hours before our meeting time which was more than enough time to dress my long length, very full hair but I was too lazy to do so. Only one thought was recurring on my mind each time I stood up to dress my hair so I impulsively went to the salon outside and told the woman to ‘cut it’.
The surprise on her face was not one she could hide. “Come make I talk to you”, she urged.
“Madam, you dey cut hair for your shop?”, I ignored her call. I did not want to be persuaded. This hair is all mine, it’s a part of me and does not belong to any other human.
She knew I had made up my mind. “I dey cut hair, when you wan cut am?”
“Right now”, I replied and walked inside the salon. There was no going back. I cared less about the comments from the other customers in the shop who clearly hated me each time the woman’s scissors cut my hair, bunch by bunch.
My hair was everywhere. I understood what Abraham must have felt when he placed Isaac on that slab for sacrifice.
No one noticed the new haircut that day, perhaps because I still had a few inches of hair left on my head.
I finally went with my dearest friends (now brothers) to lower the hair length on Saturday. I looked like an 18 year old boy.
I had a few excuses in my backpocket in case anyone wanted an explanation. I knew Ola would demand for an explanation, one I did not even understand myself.
Did I cut my hair because I loved Lola so much that I wanted to show solidarity when her head became bald from all those chemotherapy shots? Did I cut my hair because I was tired of spending so much on hair products just to tame it? Why did I cut my hair really?
Daniel answered correctly. “She’s experiencing life crisis”. He laughed when someone asked. I agreed. It was then that I began to understand the impulse. It’s really not something I can find the words to explain properly. It’s the feeling of taking control of what’s yours, that feeling of knowing you’ve gone through twenty-five years on earth and have learned enough to not let yourself be disrespected, the feeling that you are enough and can be confident in your own skin.
I have always feared that I’d look like a man if I cut off all my hair but you see, my confidence two days after taking all that hair off, is amazing.
I owe no one any explanation (except Ola of course, who was just so sad). Everyone who noticed has promised not to speak to me again. “That plenty hair!” “You cut that hair when I’m here begging God to give me hair!”
I laugh now and respond, “This haircut also looks good on me”, because regardless of what they think and how they feel, the hair was mine, is mine and will always be mine. This is how I shall welcome twenty-six.