shirt – Nasty Gal; shorts – Jonathan’s old skinny jeans; shoes – Asos.com
Having a shaved head — while combating the miseducation of natural hair — has been quite the adventure.
Most days, I’m still in disbelief that I’ve actually done it. Most days, I feel beautiful, empowered, free. Most days, I feel more feminine than I ever have before.
But then there are days where it seems like everyone is staring at my head; where I feel like I stick out like a sore thumb; where I feel boyish & awkward; where everything I put on exaggerates the discomforting thoughts that I look a bit masculine.
I know it’s ridiculous. I know what people have told me incessantly (“Your face is far too feminine for anyone to ever think you look like a boy.”). But trying to make this clear to my brain, which is heavily entrenched in the age old misconception that hair = femininity, is not easy.
I wasn’t prepared for all of this inner battling with my ego. I didn’t think that I would have to talk myself into feeling feminine everyday. I especially didn’t think that I would feel so terribly foreign in my own skin.
To combat the yucky thoughts, I’ve made it a habit to repeat this mantra over & over until I can’t stand it:
I am not my hair. I am not my hair.
I am not my hair. I am not my hair.
I am not my hair. I am not my hair.
Then I peruse through Le Coil’s & Kwesi Abbensetts’ archives. After which, like clockwork, I am back to my optimistic, sunshiney self.
Which goes to show you: Sometimes all you need is a bit of inspiration to give you enough courage to keep going.
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