"I just wanna be myself, and I want you to love me for who I am
I just wanna be myself, and I want you to know
I am my hair" - Lady Gaga, "Hair"
It's been
a long time since I've done a
Body Acceptance post.
This one was tricky because I have a long
history of loving and hating my hair.
And hair is covers a lot! (pun intended)
For the
majority of my life, people have been sending messages about what to do with my
hair. My classmates talked about how "gross"
they felt when they didn't shave their legs or when they couldn't wash their
hair every week. I got bullied for not
shaving my legs and having greasy hair. My dad laughed at my hairy thighs, and
my mom forced me to shave my armpits after preteen me told her that American
women shaved. A Mary Kay salesperson
teaching a friend and me how to apply makeup for prom told me to wax my
eyebrows, and one of my friends in college insisted on tweezing them. The Companion, during a more immature time, once
requested that I trim my pubic hair, and to this day, a flash of pubic hair
could get a show shut down.
Being an
anxious perfectionist, I was doomed to develop a discomfort with my naked body
and a terrible relationship with my hair.
I didn't want to do burlesque because I felt too hairy, and thus too
ugly. I couldn't see myself stripping
down to a G-string, as those strips of fabric never to covered enough.
Then I
started to learn about dancers who bucked societal norms.
It began with the belly dance community,
namely
Unmata, who had tattoos and unshaven armpits.
In burlesque, I discovered
Rubyyy Jones, who
stopped shaving her armpits and even wore a hairy merkin for an act.
At
Viva Dallas Burlesque's DC vs. Marvel
show, I met
Shan de Leers who was on her own journey to reclaim her body
through not shaving.
I started wondering
if I could do the same.
By this
point, my dermatitis had me not shaving my legs out of necessity, and thanks to
the queerlesque community, I was slowly growing okay with it.
However, I've never truly had hairy legs,
just dark hair.
The real test would be
when I stopped shaving my armpits, a decision I made at the end of August as I
prepared for
Glitterbomb's Hair show.
I
would be telling my story.
 |
Glitterbomb: Hair
Photo by Kristen Gaddis |
The act
was a reverse strip based on the premise of getting ready for a show. I wore my long black wig to symbolize how
long and thick hair represents femininity and the struggle I have with my mom
every time I want to cut my hair.
Although the inclusion of my samba costume was motivated by a desire to
recycle an essentially retired outfit, I must confess other motives. It was my most glamorous ensemble, and it
symbolized a difficult thought that lingered in my mind with regards to all the
troupes I joined or considered joining.
Despite the support I received, I still felt pressure to shave in order
to not distract from the troupe aesthetic.
In a group, you have to consider everyone else in addition to
yourself. Maybe this is why I prefer
going solo— in burlesque and in life.
Glitterbomb
provided the perfect venue for this new step.
The audience has always been ultra supportive, and some of my fellow
queerlesquers didn't shave. Plus the hair theme was perfect! The
gods might have been sending me a message that it was time.
 |
| Photo by Saraphimart |
I never
looked back… at least when it came to armpit and leg hair. It's an extra reveal and a way to challenge audience members who have certain expectations of beauty. I still worry about my pubic hair
making an unexpected appearance and causing an issue, but I can solve that
issue with costuming and safety thongs.
As for the hair on my head, it's another beast.
My photos
for the
Esteemed project cover how complex my struggles with hair have
been.
Anytime I wear my long black wig
and get a compliment on how good I look with long hair, I start feeling a tinge
of regret.
Then I see fellow performers
with undercuts and shaved sides, and I wonder if I'll ever be brave enough to
do that.
Lately, as I embrace my
genderfluid identity and do more drag, I'm more assertive about getting shorter,
more masculine cuts.
I also try not to
go into hairdressers with too specific expectations because that would lead to dissatisfaction
and more angst over being too shy to let them know.
There are always wigs, I tell myself.
We're just working on acceptance after all.
Ironically, my drag self has a hair-related name. I take the Pink approach with Tony Fo-Hawk in that one's hair does not have to match the name. Speaking of the extreme dude with perpetual helmet hair, you can catch him tomorrow night at Glitterbomb.
