Hair

As you can see, I have none... well close to none.  The most common question I have been asked recently, if you can only imagine, is, "why Christine?"

The answer to me is simple.  It was the most logical thing for me to do at the time.  Okay, perhaps, "logic" isn't the most applicable word, but it suits my needs for the moment I suppose.

However, my actual explanation is a little more complicated.  There were many reasons.  The first and foremost, being, "why not?"  Simple enough.  I've always been curious.  And really, why should it matter?  It's not like we're living in a post-feminism society right? People obviously don't care about these things anymore.  The measure of a person isn't wrapped up in their hair.  Or is it?

When I had the electric razor in my hands, right in that moment before I went and did something that in all honesty should not have been considered all too drastic, I wasn't thinking to myself, "I'm out to prove something.  By doing this, I will reveal to all that women are not subject to inequality and prejudice due to physical appearances anymore!"  It's been done.

Instead, I was more concerned with how I was going to be treated.  It's just a common place fact in our society that if you are a female, white, and with short hair you are among a list of less than savory titles that someone may choose to associate you with, i.e. dyke, transvestite, ugly, boyish, feminist, idealistic... I suppose I could go on, but I care not to think any further on what I know other men, especially, have already thought about me.  And to me, an unsavory title is anything I care not to be recognized as, not necessarily that they're bad.

I just don't like titles.  When I had to title this blog, I felt like it was presumptuous of me to call these "musings" and even calling myself an artist, seemed... pretentious.  I mean, I don't really care, especially about the second part, when you get down to it.  I am an artist.  I guess I just didn't want to oversimplify, or limit what it was I could discuss on my blog here.  Plus, I know it's incredibly unoriginal.  It seems the only time I do like titles is when they're completely ironic.  To some of my friends, this puts me under suspicion of being a hipster.  God help us all if it's true.

But if I did want to prove anything, it was that I could do it.  That I could overcome the fear of letting go of something that is truly material, and inconsequential to my person.

But if it was so inconsequential, why had so much of my identity been wrapped up in it?  I'm not so much interested in answering this question for others to read, but for them to ask themselves.  Nearly all of us do it. Some of us, worse than others.  What I've noticed is a general, overall insecurity.  If we have little to identify ourselves by, then our appearance and our activities become our identities.  "Well, I'm a gamer."  Or, "I'm a girl, see my girly hair and clothes?"  "I'm a rebel."

And although, these things may be true, how inconsequential.  How simple.  How empty.  Even the statement, "I'm an artist."  Without some sort of substantial backing is trivial.  I had conflict over the statement not too long ago.  The sum of the word extends beyond the implied meaning.

It's pretty obvious , that hair and what is says about a character is a fascinating subject matter for me personally.  The way I paint it, the endless assault I've made to it over the last 8 years... I'm obsessed.  When I was 14, my aunt took me to get my hair cut and colored the way I had imagined it for quite some time.   It did wonders for my confidence.  Should it have?  No, but I was 14, angsty, and philosophical meanderings of "significance" and "true value" were not going to help me feel better about myself.  So, you take what you can get at that age.  It may be cliche and redundant to state, but true beauty lies within... although I won't argue that by societal superficial standards, I'm not too bad off either.

Balance is the theme of my life lately.  I wake up to Earl Grey, and relax to Darjeeling or Oolong.  I love eating healthy but a little chocolate won't hurt me either.

As I regrow my hair out, I'll have fun with it, and I'll like what'll it say about me.  It'll say, "she's weird" for starters.  But it's nice to start over, have a nice forced evaluation and appreciation for what really makes me, me.  Take away all my paint brushes and I'll still be an artist.  Take away my hair, and I'll still be Christine.  I believe that it's alright to take part in life's frivolities, as long you have an appreciation and understanding of what's more important.  I'm not out to prove much, but rather, amuse people with ideas, laughter, and emotion.  And if it doesn't reach others, at least it has made my life interesting.