Why I Chopped My Hair, and No, I’m Not in a Crisis—But It’d Be Fine If I Were
I wrote this a month ago, but I finally bit the bullet today. If you even care.
It was March 2023 when I’d just had a breakthrough therapy session (though, to be fair, every session had felt like a breakthrough since I started therapy in December 2022). My therapist was helping me confront my indecisiveness, and she gave me some of the best advice I’ve ever received: don’t stress about decisions too much because every next decision can be informed by how you feel about the consequences of the previous one. If you’re disappointed with an outcome, use that disappointment to guide your next choice. Nothing is permanent (well, except for a few things, like having kids, but you get the gist).
So, after that session, I called my mom on the walk home, put a deposit down on one of the graduate school programs I was deciding between, and cut myself bangs (or "fringe" for my Irish friends, who probably aren’t reading this).
I’d wanted bangs for years. Every time I saw my little cousin’s curly bangs, I envied her boldness (and undeniable coolness). Yet, every time I asked friends if I should go for it, they discouraged me—trying to protect me from a potentially self-image-shattering mistake. Spoiler: it didn’t go wrong. I respect their advice, though I must say, some of them went on to surprise me by getting bangs themselves (ahem, Clara).
There’s a funny double standard, or gender based bias, when it comes to dramatic hair changes and perceived mental states. For women, big hair changes practically scream “We should probably check in on her, right?” But for men? My brother-in-law shaved his head, and did I question his mental health? Nope. Did I even notice his haircut at all? Barely. My only thought was, “Good of him, getting a head start on where he’s headed” (said with love, Warren). If a guy with a man-bun chops it off, people praise him for looking “so fresh,” almost as if it’s a signal his mental state has improved based on the fact that he’s “cleaned himself up a bit” (know that I do not agree with this sentiment, I support the man-bun to any man-bun friends out there reading this).
People often think bold hair changes are a trauma response, and maybe that’s sometimes true. But why does that mean we shouldn’t do it? If you’re craving a change, and it’s something temporary like a haircut, why not encourage this non-life altering change? I suppose people do think of it as a life-altering change, but hair grows back. Sure, dealing with awkward lengths as it grows can be excruciating, but that’s part of the fun—the thrill of the “high-risk, high-reward”. The risks are relatively minor, but the excitement? Completely worth it. Also note that I say this as someone whose identity, since March 2023, has been grossly defined by having curly bangs (it’s superficial, yes I know). I have curly bangs, I support curly bangs, I will live and die for and with curly bangs.
I’ve been wanting a proper chop for ages. When I graduated college in 2019 and was set to work at a summer camp in Ohio, I thought shorter hair would be more practical for handling the humidity (and the grim hygiene routine that comes with camp life). But my hairdresser—Gina, who’s been the only person I’ve trusted with my hair since she rescued me from a pre-high school graduation haircut disaster—suggested a shoulder-length chop to start. “We can always go shorter,” she said. I trusted her (still do), but because I didn’t fully commit, I didn’t fully love it. It was an awkward length, and I spent the next year growing it back.
Since then, every time I’ve desperately needed a cut—and that’s been often, between the sporadic visits home during the pandemic and now living halfway across the world from Gina—I’ve flirted with the idea of a full chop. But each time, I settled for a trim just to see if that’d scratch the itch. It usually did…until this last summer.
This past summer, while home in the States, I was this close to going for it. I’d booked a haircut as soon as I bought my flights for my friend's wedding–three months prior–but the urge to chop it all off hit me just as I walked off the plane, desperate for a haircut. I hadn’t warned Gina about my intentions, knowing if I was serious, I’d need to walk into the salon with confidence, pretending that I’d been thinking about this for more than three days. So, naturally, I turned to an Instagram poll to help firm up my decision (don’t tell my therapist I backslid by crowd-sourcing my decision). With 94 votes, 60% of people said “Do it!” while 40% advised caution. The votes came from friends and strangers–it’s funny strangers had an opinion on the matter but I’m so appreciative they did.
Some individual, direct polling of friends brought up some practical considerations. One pointed out that since I was about to be a bridesmaid, it might be best to wait in case it took a while to learn to style the shorter cut. Another friend pointed out that, with my “boy troubles” and general vulnerability at the time, it might not be the best timing (which, honestly, was a fair point).
Having weighed all this feedback, and having satisfied my need for change with a mere trim, I’ve held off—though I’ve been thinking about the chop ever since. To address my friends’ points:
Weddings: I’ve been a bridesmaid in three weddings in the past 13 months and will be in two more in the next five months. I’m 28, and I have a lot of close friends (not bragging, just blessed). There will always be a wedding coming up. But the truth is, their big day doesn’t outweigh my desire for change. If a friend is close enough to make me a bridesmaid, they’re concerned with me being there, not how my hair looks (which is usually in a low bun anyway). And as well, I’ve been in enough weddings that I’m beyond subscribing to the social norm that we need to look perfect as bridesmaids (and brides). It’s an impossible standard that we place on ourselves as women–though institutionally instigated by the patriarchy–that we all need to work to unlearn.
Boy troubles: Not chopping my hair won’t keep anyone around. Shit things will happen and your hair length has nothing to do with any of it, and if it does, good riddens. It won’t matter to someone who’s going to stick around. Cutting your hair isn’t anyone’s concern but your own–do it for yourself and know why.
My reasons why:
I’ve always wanted to donate my hair but whenever I did a big cut growing up, it was never quite long enough, nor was it in 2019 when I chopped it. But due to the impatience I struggled with growing up, I got my haircuts when it suited me and my schedule instead of trying to prioritize the minimum length needed to donate. My patience has improved much since my tween years, so now (hopefully) I have enough to donate.
I work in a cafe, so it’s constantly in a claw clip anyway.
It tangles in my scarves all winter. While amidst the summer heat seems like the “sensible” chop time, I’d argue winter is actually worse for us curly-haired gals (I’m not complaining about my curls, I’m purely justifying my timing).
The risk of cutting curly bangs has paid off, who’s to say this won’t?
I’ve been seriously considering it since August, but loosely considering it for five years. In that time, I’ve lived in two cities, two different countries, moved through seven different apartments and built entirely new communities as an adult. If I can shake things up that much in five years, I don’t see why a haircut should feel like such a big deal.
I think it’d match my style, particularly when I wear my glasses.
I’m curious. My hair has gotten curlier since the (somewhat failed) shoulder chop in 2019, and I’d want to see what it’d look like now. But I’ll never know if I don’t give it a go.
Long hair is a pain for sports. I said what I said.
No shop in Ireland sells the shampoo I prefer, so this should help make the supply I smuggle back from the States last longer.
I turned 28 a couple weeks ago, and I just feel like doing something a little crazy. The impermanence of chopping my hair seems like a healthy coping mechanism considering all the arguments I’ve just made.
So there it is. No need to weigh in; I’ve come a long way since that therapy session in March of 2023, and I’m getting better at making my own decisions and sticking to them. And to my hairdresser, Gina, this post is proof that I’ve thought long and hard about this. But to my whole point, if it goes wrong one way or another, my next decision will be informed by that dissatisfaction–I’ll just grow it out (and probably find my way to the nearest pub in the meantime).