Body Acceptance series - Hair

"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.