Hair Color and the Female Psyche

Today, my daughter sent me an essay she wrote in response to her brother's criticism of dying her hair and wearing make up. She decided to put her rebuttal in writing and send it to me. I found it sad, - sad in थे थौघ्त that my son and his generation take such a narrow view of female "self embellishment". However, I post this essay with pride in a यौंग woman who could frame such an intelligent, insightful response to this type of female stereotyping. Enjoy.

Aurora

My brother gave me something to think on today. He told me that he and most other men he knew didn’t always trust women who dyed their hair or wore a lot of makeup or participated in many primping and plumage rituals as a whole, as they got the impression that it was a form of disguise that women wore, a sign that those women were uncomfortable in their own skin, signaling issues unresolved, a type of baggage few men want to deal with. This surprised me. I’ve been dying my hair since middle school and have never once thought of it as a disguise or anything like it (for anyone who cares, my hair is currently true red pomegranate, and if you can guess which brand it came from, treat yourself to a cookie). In fact, I’ve always felt the exact opposite about my decision to mess with my hair color. My hair color and occasional instances of wearing makeup have always felt like representations of who I feel that I am, something that allows me to express myself more truly than my own skin, totally au natural.

I’ve known a lot of girls who fool around with their appearance, and while the reason for the cosmetic tampering is always varied, never within my circle of friends has the reason been to hide or change something internal about themselves that they didn’t like. I concede there are women out there who do use cosmetics to hide from some inner ugly truth, but the girls I’ve met and spoken with about this all do it for one of three main reasons. They are as follows: १. to express something about themselves which they feel their natural appearance does not convey or misconstrues, or they dislike their own hair color –my group, २. they wish to emulate someone –or something- they respect or admire physically -think cosplayers-, or ३. it is an act of rebellion against controlling family or lovers who wouldn’t allow them control over their own bodies.

We rarely know ourselves as a whole, self-discovery being a lifelong process and all (yet somehow, we’re expected to by the time we hit college), but what we do know and feel about ourselves rarely matches completely with what shows in the mirror. (For the sake of argument, let’s leave the issue of weight out of the picture and focus on the physical things that can be changed in a day with breaking the bank.) We create characters for and of ourselves which mirror who we feel we are inside, what are bodies naturally fail to show about us. It’s a mask we wear that shows clearly what we know while we work behind it finding out more, adding details and colors. It’s not a disguise, but a preview of the person who will be.

How do we feel about our bodies? Do they represent who we are naturally, or are they mannequins of flesh, which our minds and personalities spend lifetimes transcending so that we show? Don’t our opinions change and shift with age? Shouldn’t our appearance, the badge by which the world sees and ranks us, be allowed to shift with it to match? Perhaps the people who don’t shift are really the ones wearing a disguise; hiding behind the mask of normalcy and compliance while in their minds, they have electric blue hair, wear evening gowns with combat boots, and keep ninja throwing stars next to the stick of aloe lip gloss in their purses. Maybe they cower, afraid of what the world would think if it ever knew how weird, or quirky, or nerdy they were, afraid that it might not love them anymore. Meanwhile those of us who dare to fry our follicles all shades of the rainbow, and wear t-shirts that shout loud and clear to the world exactly what we think of it, face the threat of immediate love or condemnation head on. None of us are judged at first on what we think or who we are, only on how we look when faced with the looking glass of society. We hurry the decision, cutting short the long, cruel process of introducing our individuality to the mob, waiting to see if they love us, or like our mask enough to stay in spite of the insanity, or if they turn away in search of someone less threatening to their tender, politically correct sensibilities.

I can’t help but think of the Ganguro girls of Japan who defy their country’s standard of beauty, bleaching their hair and tanning their skin an improbable brown in protest of the idea that beauty comes in only one form. I think that’s awesome. I think, if I were Japanese, or lived in a society where concepts of beauty were that rigid, I’d do the same thing. Then the otaku and cosplayers, whose choice to emulate something they love often labels them in their society as slackers or idiots. Stereotypes are death to imagination, individuality, and humanity in general. But that is another post for another day. For now, I have to wonder, according to the philosophy my brother and kind hold, do ganguro girls and cosplayers, do they all have some deep emotional issue? If so, then I’m far happier that they choose to wear some funky outfits to deal instead of any of the alternatives.

To get to the point, my nerd fighting brethren, I am curious as to your opinions on this matter as a whole. Girls, why do you –if you- dye your hair, or wear the things you do? Guys, what do you think about those of us girls who dye our hair, regardless of whether it’s some out there color not found in nature or just a modification of shade to something lighter or darker? Or what about the use of makeup? Do you think it’s some girlish ploy to make ourselves more attractive? Do we do it to hide some deep emotional scar that we’re too paranoid to go into therapy for? Are we that susceptible to the pressures of media? I want to know what you all think.

I, for one, dye my hair because I want to; because I think it looks better than my natural hair color; because I think that, if genetics didn’t dictate what I looked like and my body could mirror my personality exactly, I’d be a redhead; because, as any girl with half a brain would tell anyone who bugged her about it, it’s my body, and if I want to dye my hair a shade of red found only in anime, wear purple glittery eyeliner, and paint my toe nails green, that’s my business and you can just go look elsewhere if you find it disturbing. This is Me in all my colorful weirdness, as it is many people, men and women alike.

But the idea that hair dye is a sign of some emotional issue threw me for a loop, and I want to see what other theories guys have for the stuff we grrl folk do, and if any girls out there care to validate it or toss these twats out a proverbial window. Don’t worry about my brother. I set him straight and he conceded that he’d never thought of it as a means of self-expression. We’re cool now, and we both know a little more about the craziness one gender thinks the other is capable of. In closing, this post is full of my opinions. They are flawed and possibly wrong, as will be the opinions of many who respond. I respect that whole-heartedly. That is what opinions are about. To paraphrase Voltaire, we all have the right to be wrong, and I, even if I disagree with it, will fight to the death to uphold that right. And as sure as I am that I will dye my hair again in another 3 months, I know that even sooner than that, I will look back on this post and think of something else I could’ve said, or something I won’t believe in as adamantly by then. So please, disagree. Be civil, but disagree. Challenge me and anyone else who sees my point. Let us all be individuals with opinions and points here on nerd fighters, where, theoretically, we are talking because we have something to say, not because our profile pic shows skinny and cute and casting come hither looks at the camera. Because, while this is by no means the most poignant post, I must know what the consensus is. Please, indulge me.