let your hair down
Yesterday my hair was cherry wine. Today, my hair is back to black. Whenever I was asked why I dye my hair, I always answer with the same sentence, “Because I wanted to.”
But I never realized how significant my hair was for my life, until recently. If you knew me personally, you would know that I would go from Red, Orange, Pink, Blue, Green, and Purple in like a span of months. It was fun and you know, colorful. I felt so different, so unique from others. I would always stand out; like I am the main character in my favorite TV Show, a Rihanna song plays and the world moves in slow motion wherever I go. But there were also times when I dyed my hair black, dull, dark, and well, colorless. I would easily blend with others, basically part of the crowd. I feel like I was one of the extras, poorly paid after standing in the back of the set pretending I was a stranger in the show.
What I cannot understand is why do I feel so dull with bright unnatural hair colors, but I feel so light and at peace whenever I dye my hair black?
When I was a child, I grew up with my hair always down and my eyes meeting the ground. I had a simple dream; to tie and style my hair as other kids do. I always wanted to put my hair in a bun, have my classmate braid my hair during class breaks, put ribbons and hair clips in every strand of my hair, and do all that girlie things a child always loved. But I never had the chance to do that freely. Because apparently, I always have to keep my hair down to “protect” myself from judgments.
I was born with only one ear open; my right ear did not fully develop hence my struggles with hearing. I was born with Grade 3 Microtia, with an absent of an inner ear canal on my right ear. One would think that is only burdened my freedom to communicate with others; but as I see it, it damaged my self-esteem immensely.
Keeping my hair down was once my comfort space, for I did not have to explain anything to people. I did not have to go through the long process of explaining how my right ear is smaller than my other ear, how it does not have an opening, how I can still hear vaguely from it, how I feel whenever someone touches it, and other questions that feed their curiosity. As a child, I did not fully understand the concept of boundaries; whenever they asked, I always answered despite feeling uncomfortable. I tried so hard to explain everything to them just so I can justify that I was normal; that I was just like them. I can function just like them. But each question they ask reminds me that I am in fact, different from others.
That no matter how hard I try, I was still a twelve year old girl dreaming to braid her hair the same way as other girls do.
You would think that just because I kept my hair down all the time; it protected me from judgements. Aside from the Philippines’ naturally hot weather, my teachers did not really understand my situation. They often asked me to tie my hair up to “look clean and proper.” They lectured me in front of the entire class how it was unlady like for us to have our hair down as it messy; that I look messy. God, I can still feel myself sinking down in my seat, trying my best to hide, avoiding eye contact with my classmates who were laughing, at their “mukhang mangkukulam” joke. I always hated Buwan ng Wika Celebrations before. Not because I hated wearing our National Costumes, but because we were expected put our hair in a clean bun to achieve that “Maria Clara” look.
In December of 2020, I was talking to a guy. He sent me a link to a song and said that it reminded him of me, it was a song by MAGIC! entitled Let Your Hair Down. It was about a woman, being encouraged to let her hair down and be herself — be foolish.
“Let your hair down” was an idiom to let yourself loose and behave freely; to relax and enjoy yourself. But, I had it the other way around. When I was letting my hair down, I had to be careful. I have to make sure my hair do not move with the wind. I have to make sure I don’t push my hair out of my face too far or else the world would know my secret. I cannot cut my hair too short, I cannot tie it too high.
I lost so much opportunities back when I was a young girl just because I cannot put my hair up like dancers do, like singers do, like those in the marching band do. I mean, how can I, while other members have their hair up like uniform, only I have it down? Only when I grew older, I realized how I let half of my opportunities pass by just to keep my hair down. I was too afraid to let the world know that I was not the same as them; that I am a bit different, just like them.
Now, that I am old enough to play with my hair, I dye it different colors, primary, secondary, tertiary, whatever you name. You could say that I was healing my inner child, because now, I realize that I was not only dyeing my hair because I wanted to, but because I lost the opportunity to style my hair when I was a little girl. My once pink hair symbolizes the pink bows I never tried on my hair. My once blue hair represents the blue hair ties I would always wear as bracelets.
But out of all these vivid colors, why do I only feel like myself when I have black hair?
Having bright unnatural colors made me feel unique, but isolated. My black hair helps me blend in; it reminds me that I am no different than others. It reminds me that I do not have to change my hair color to stand out — because i have my cute little butterfly ear to do that for me. Unnatural hair colors may be bright, but my black hair reminds me that life, itself, can be vivid too.
