I keep finding my long hair stretched across surfaces at home.
I am sitting at the hairdressers; a young Japanese man cuts my hair and after each snap of carefully grown long strains, he puts the hair on my laps respectfully, with a silent gesture allowing me to farewell with a significant part of myself. I look down on my laps full of all these singular threads collectively called hair, which in my eyes become both, alive and dead. Cut from their mother they are taking on the new type of existence, and so am I. They will most probably land in a bin, mixed in a cocktail of genetic material, with shades of hair taken drastically in the swift motion from a boy with short brown hair just before me, and a young woman with long blond curls sitting next to me, and this tanned, tall man with his black hair hiding behind his ear, as if they knew soon their home, the head, will no longer be theirs. I on the other hand, am loosing all these years of wearing a specific look, being recognised as a woman whose hair are braided, soft and gentle, suddenly standing up in a chaotic, and what is considered to be more brave look. Last time I wore hair like this was back in Łódź, studying philosophy and going full-on blond, exploring my femininity - and before that in high school, desperately trying to get out of my teenage skin, proudly aiming for the never changing haircut of Johnny Greenwood. I am sitting on the hairdressers chair and shyly looking at myself in the mirror. Even though my shoulders are tense and I can feel the smell of my body sweating in distress, I am excited and thrilled to be effortlessly inhabiting a new role in this play I found myself directing.
Dear hair - I am intentionally trying to move my thoughts up to the bulbs of the hair still hanging on to me, hoping they receive the message - I say;
goodbye to the hair I lost, thank you and I wish you all best on your own journey of transformation. I hope you make new friends and won't hold grudges. And, hello to the baby hair, buckle up and get ready for the ride. Love,
x ma
.