The Fear of Cutting My Hair

What if I don't recognise myself anymore? Why is change so intimidating?

There’s a moment, just before my fingers dial the number of the hairdressers, when everything seems to hit me. One can just say “Actually never mind” and walk away unchanged. I’ve found myself at that moment multiple times, always hovering on the edge of change, unsure whether to leap or linger or turn around. Even when I’m at the hairdresser, just before the scissors cut and I suddenly change my mind, because of that small fear.

It’s not really about hair. It never is. It’s about control, identity and memory. About holding onto something familiar, even if it no longer serves you. I’ve grown attached to who I’ve been, to the comfort of predictability, that’s possibly why I’ve found it hard to change. And yet, again and again, I feel this ache of wanting to become someone new.

image from Pinterest

I’ve had long hair for as long as I can remember. It’s always been one of the most visible and consistent parts of me, falling down my back in childhood photos, braided for school, putting it into a bun for ballet lessons or tucked behind my ears for easier concentration. Apart from when I was seventeen, the year I wanted to change everything about myself after years of getting bullied, I decided to get a short bob. People at school were obsessed with how short I cut my hair, all I did was smile and overthink. Even my occasional haircuts tended to be soft corrections: just below the shoulders, never above. Since I knew how quickly it grew, it never felt like a real departure.

But to the people who love me, my long hair is part of who I am. My Mama adores it, runs her hand through it when we’re close or braids it, which makes me feel like a kid again. My godmother always tells me how lucky I am, and too would run her hand through my hair. My grandmother says it reminds her of when she was young whenever she would brush my hair. In a way, keeping my hair this long felt as though I was maintaining this gentle continuity between who I am and who they’ve always seen me as.

There’s comfort in that, and history too. My hair has seen many versions of myself. And perhaps that’s part of why the thought of cutting it feels so difficult, I would be letting go of my previous versions.

Françoise Hardy

I’ve been obsessing over pictures of Jane Birkin and Françoise Hardy for years, their simple and effortless bangs which call my name. I admire that hairstyle, there is something so romantic and powerful about it. It’s the sort of messy but elegant look that I long for, something I can’t seem to achieve. For years, I’ve saved reference photos on my Pinterest board and told myself “Maybe next time,” next time never comes.

Because wanting bangs, wanting change, feels dangerous. It’s a step into the unknown, even if it’s “just hair.” A million thoughts overwhelm my mind: "What if it doesn’t suit me? What if I ruin my hair? What is my Mama going to say? Yet, I continue to return to the idea again and again, I’m waiting by the door that I am too afraid to open. It’s almost embarrassing.

Maybe I don’t just want a haircut, maybe I want to feel different. I want to feel lighter, more like the person I imagine I could be. The version of myself who is confident and keeps her head high. The type of person who books an appointment and does not overthink it.

Unfortunately, I overthink everything. So I scroll, and sigh at the imaginary transformation I dream of.

Crossing a paths with a Fox means he's urging you to take action

It’s midnight and the stars are out, a rare sight to see. I wonder whether one will ever feel ready to change, or if we’re simply waiting for the fear to go away, hoping that one day it will go away and leave us fearless. But what if that day never comes? What if fear doesn’t disappear but simply becomes something we have to learn to carry?

I’ve spent so long believing I needed a sign, or a surge of courage, something that would push me past that line. Sometimes that sign is a whisper, the type of breeze you feel in your hair when you get to the top of the hill. You’ll just know.

Maybe the most important thing is not to be brave, but to understand that change requires faith. You have to trust yourself, not the outcome. You will change, that’s what life is. But no matter how different your reflection looks, one must give a smile and shrug.

You might grieve your past, but time keeps moving forward.