Sarah, July 17th, 2018, photo by Korilane Henry
It is a tradition, of sorts, to cut one’s own hair in my family. From an early age, if you can hold a pair of scissors you follow the instinct to cut your hair. You grab what you can see and reach, cutting it. Some cuts are close to the scalp, and others feather out around the ears. Eventually, all that is left is an incredible mullet of hair. My mom would mourn the loss of hair, as she liked to put it in braids and pigtails, and she would take us to the hairdresser to salvage what was left. However in this case, my elder sibling opted to ‘even it out,’ buzzing what was left of the hair off. My poor mom bought many bows and headbands to put on the buzzed head, it was the only line of defense against people assuming Sarah was a boy.
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