In 2016 I shaved my head and it was traumatic.

I really did this to feel some kind of agency over my body. A lifetime of sexual abuse, abusive relationships, poverty, and chronic illness made me feel like I had no control over my life, or my body. At a really low point, I wanted to feel like a badass beauty. So, I shaved my head.

If you’re here and you’re thinking about shaving your head, don’t ask me because you probably have your own super romantic idea of what it will be like and I’m about to ruin it. Because, if I were sitting on the floor in front of my mirror, clippers in my hands, knowing what I know now; I would throw the clippers in the toilet, flush them and pay whatever it took to fix my toilet and never look back.

Did I love my short hair? Yes; I felt so sexy. Until I walked out into the world. Then, I experienced a tremendous amount of misogyny, abuse, intrusive behavior, possessive rejection, body dysmorphia, and trauma that lasted about three years.

Here are some of the greatest hits:

1. A woman was with her son and he asked her why I looked like a boy. She didn’t realize I could hear her and she said, “She doesn’t want to look like a boy, she’s sick.” I don’t know why this stung so much but it made me so dysphoric about the way I was presenting to the world. Not only was I sick, I was now presenting to the world as sick, and that made me feel really helpless.
2. The day I posted a pic on instagram my ex-boyfriend who I hadn’t spoken to in 10 years messaged me and told me “I really wish you hadn’t done that… I mean good for you and all that… but your long hair was so nice, I really preferred it that way.” It was the first comment I had gotten about my new haircut. This is gonna set the tone? Great. I replied “I’m so sorry, I should’ve consulted you beforehand.” and then I blocked him.
3. One of my regulars at the bar who was a shameless, but what I thought was harmless, flirt was truly furious with me. The first time he came in and saw it he sat at the bar and wouldn’t even look at me. When I finally asked him if he was okay he said, “How could you do this? You knew I loved your hair. How many times have I told you how beautiful your hair was? This is terrible. I hate it. I can’t believe you would do something like this. You knew your hair was my favorite.” He acted like we were dating or something, it was possessive and creepy. I told him “Dude, I literally don’t think of you ever, when I make a single decision in my life.” He didn’t like that, so he paid his tab and left. After that he would come in, sit at the bar, and order from the other bartender and actively not look at me. It was really uncomfortable for everyone. I didn’t even know the guy’s last name, and somewhere in his head he had some kind of ownership over my body. Scary. Thankfully, he eventually stopped coming in altogether.
4. A lot of people openly asked me if I had cancer. Coincidentally at this time, I was going through a lot of testing because my treatment team suspected I may have thyroid cancer. I was asked this question a lot during this really emotionally fragile time. It was such a strange thing to be asked that question, and feel obligated to answer. I would awkwardly answer “No… well… I don’t know… I mean… no… no… no… it’s just a style.” This goes without saying, but I shouldn’t have to say anything, because who asks a stranger if they have cancer? I worked a job where I interacted with maybe 100 people a day, so there’s more opportunities for people to ask me stupid questions, but I really underestimated the lack of boundaries that people have around intimate health issues like that. Fully developed adults would ask “So, did you do it to be cool, or do you have cancer?” As if I could ever have an answer to that question that isn’t totally demeaning, or vulnerable, or intrusive. I felt constantly on trial for this decision.
5. Then “concerned” people would ask me if I was okay. They said it with a face that said “You know what I mean… you get it… are you okay okay…” They were not friends and family, all those people knew how I was doing. These “concerned” people would ask because they attributed a woman shaving their head with Britney Spears’ Mental Health Crisis, and they wanted to confirm the suspicion that I was in a crisis, so they could gawk at me the way they gawked at Britney. They wanted to be privy to a meltdown about to unravel before the public’s eyes, and they wanted to say “See, I told you, I knew it when she shaved her head.” The worst part was that they were picking up on something, because I was not fine, and it was really embarrassing to realize that I’ve unknowingly shown my cards. It wasn’t like anyone was offering help, they just wanted to know the tea. No one asked if I was okay weeks before when I told them I was sleeping in my car because I was working triple shifts. I was surrounded by so many people during this time, and I was so obviously in such a bad place. Now that I’m older and surround myself with good people, I look back and I’m amazed at truly how little the people around me cared for me back then.
6. The most traumatic part of this whole experience was that it was suddenly very clear who saw me as a human being with value, and who saw me as an object. The people who loved me, loved it because they knew that I loved it, and they love me. I had plenty of friends message me saying “Holy shit dude, it looks SO COOL” or “You are absolutely rocking this look.” No doubt, I definitely got lots of compliments from people who love me. In general, women liked the look a lot. The most common reply was “I wish I was as brave as you. I’ve been dying to do this for so long.” But if they saw me as an object that served them somehow, they were angry with me. They didn’t just dislike it, they felt personally victimized by this decision I had made about my own body, and the fact that they didn’t have any say in it. I had betrayed them by ruining whatever image they had of me that had some kind of self-serving purpose. Let’s be clear, all of those people were men. Men were angry with me for shaving my head.

I had some idea that people would have something to say, but I wasn’t ready for the level of rejection and misogyny that came with this haircut. There’s a part of me that wants to say “GO FOR IT, DO IT TO SPITE THEM,” but I am also on the side of harm reduction. If you’re sensitive to abuse especially perpetrated by men, know that shaving your head comes with a big old heaping helping of that. For three years, I was reminded daily that I’m basically a guest in the male world. Men really felt a sense of entitlement over my body, and it was like a constant re-traumatization. Even on a good week I couldn’t go more than a few days without a strange man handing out unsolicited microagressions like saying they preferred women with long hair. I didn’t fucking ask buddy, just sell me my coffee please.