It’s just hair, it’ll grow back

I took Mary for a haircut at my salon before the start of school. This was her first experience with all the bells and whistles of hair care — shampoo, scalp massage, post-cut styling. This is a major upgrade from the lollipop that comes with the toddler hair cuttery. Although, a lollipop might put the whole experience over the top.

Mary did not want a haircut. In fact, the technical term for how she went in is “kicking and screaming.” When I said “hair cut” by her reaction I can only assume that what she heard was, “we’re going to shave your hair into spiky patches and then use your head to clean toilets.”

She wants long hair. I get it, I really do. Wanting long hair was a huge part of my identity as a child. To this day, if you ask my mom what it was like getting me to trim my hair she reflexively starts shouting “YOU HAVE TO TRIM YOUR HAIR IF YOU WANT IT TO GROW LONG!”

I explained the situation to the stylist. Mary wants long hair but she has a lot of damage from chlorine and sun this summer. I wanted at least six inches off, and Mary wanted to just go home and forget about this whole thing.

I formed a quick alliance between the three of us and promised Mary that I wasn’t there to trick her, to gang up on her, or to try to convince her to do something she didn’t want to do, but that I was requiring some sort of a trim.

The stylist was immediately empathetic. She was a woman, a mother, a daughter, and most importantly — she was a person with hair. She bent down and looked into Mary’s eyes and told her that she understood how deeply personal hair can be and how important it is to love how you look.

I’d never really thought about it before, but the the fear and vulnerability of a haircut is universal. Mary felt alone, like she was in a one-person fight for her hair. But she wasn’t alone at all. She didn’t have to explain herself, and I didn’t, either. This woman who we’d just met was immediately understood and was on the exact same page.

I didn’t walk back with Mary while she got her cut. I am terrible at holding my tongue, and when I promised Mary that I wasn’t going to try to make her feel guilty or persuade her beyond her comfort level, I meant it.

After about 20 minutes, Mary re-appeared in the lobby. The stylist was standing behind her, beaming. She had cut exactly 1/4″. Since it was also straightened, Mary’s hair actually looked longer.