My Big Chop

 

My “big chop” resulted in an even deeper feeling of freedom and empowerment.  This happens to many women in mid-life, not always as a crisis, but following a moment of reflection and relief linked to embarking on a new chapter.  For black women, bombarded throughout life with European notions of beauty, this can feel like lifting two fingers to social norms.  Personally, I have never been too influenced by dominant concepts of beauty because I feel this grows from within each individual and no ethnic group has the monopoly.  The challenge for women is finding the true source of their beauty, away from the increasing obsession with artificial appendages, and being confident enough to celebrate their natural gifts.     Many black women of my generation have been locked into a lifetime of processing their hair for various reasons and this practice has become an unquestioned part of their identity.  Walking down certain high streets it is obvious how black women are supporting the growth of successful businesses within other ethnic groups, without gaining the respect as loyal customers, particularly in the fast growing wig industry.    If we suddenly stopped buying these products our economic power would be felt in this small area alone.  There are many other areas where we could be far more assertive in using our spending power more politically.     

I have always been a wash and go girl, last visiting a hair salon over 20 years ago because of my strong dislike of being consumed by the smell of chemicals and frying hair.  I was more about low maintenance, becoming well known for my bun most recently, or as some friends called it “packing my hair”.    I moved to an even easier style of cornrows during the Covid-19 lock down, but decided that my next move was to revert to my natural hair.  This decision coincided with the increasing visibility around the Black Lives Matter movement and the George Floyd killing, with push many people of all ethnicities towards a greater level of consciousness and racism.  In taking the decision to cut my hair, I was less concerned about the toxic impact of chemical processing, than I was about the toxic impact of racism in our society.  

As I waited for the right moment, I tried to ignore unsolicited advice about the importance of head shape and facial features before taking such a bold step.  Afterall, how many bald ugly men had I seen walking around who had obviously not restricted their actions by such considerations.  The moment came as I found myself trailing my son to his barber shop down the road.  I opted for a barber shop rather than a hair dressing salon because I wanted to avoid efforts to discourage me which I felt would come from women there.    I was pleased that the barber took to the task without prying questions. Whilst snipping away, he mentioned that increasingly women were coming into his shop for the chop treatment. As a result, he seemed to have adopted some small checks as he applied his craft asking me whether the clippers, of which there were many, were too harsh on my skin and advising me on aftercare etc.  Nice.  I sat in the chair enjoying the experience without a hint of regret, doubt or worry. An inner voice was loudly chanting..” Go girl!”.   A whole new me was emerging and I liked what I saw and what it represented in equal measures.  My son watched in awe as I sat unflinching under the blades of an assortment of clippers.   We had discussed the chop and he knew that it was more than just a new style, but rather a statement that I was sending about my pride in my authentic self.   I left the barber’s chair feeling wonderfully shorn, not even stopping to glance down at the hair scattered on the floor from the former image of myself.    I was also pleased to make a small investment in a black-owned business and looked forward to my next visit.   

My son gave me a big thumbs up and told me he was proud of me. I could see his comment was heart felt and hoped that I had somehow impacted his perception of women and the diversity of beauty.  Sharing selfies of my new look, comments resonated around bravery, courage and strength.   These traits were always part of my character which the big chop seemed to amplify more to onlookers.   My daughter looked at me in amazement when I returned home.  She was also seeing a new me and as a young black woman it obviously meant more and required greater processing. I could literally see her mentally absorbing the new image I presented, before she too joined my celebration.  In some ways, there is more to see without hair when I look in the mirror. Understanding the importance of having the confidence to present the version of womanhood that pleases oneself, rather than seeking approval from others or being overly influenced by society, is the ultimate gift to my girl child.