Changing looks by getting Locs

"I want to shave it off!" I uttered through my gritted teeth one day, frustrated, whilst yanking at the strings of bedhead knots trapped between the bristles of my paddle brush. I envisioned hacking off the tangled nest that lay above my head and how alleviated I would feel not having to manage a constant hairdo. Had I had a pair of scissors to hand or an electric razor in that moment, I would have committed recklessly to do the deed right there and then; but I didn't, so the vision quickly drifted as I slumped into my mundane morning routine of a 'quick comb' into a mid-pony. Simple and easy. No hassle for aching arms or trying to get an even partition; this was my go-to style since middle school.

Periodically, I would catch a glimpse of my reflection and find myself bewildered on how on earth my hair got that loose and scruffy from the time I had just dealt with it. Why wasn't it straight and glossy, or curly with cute ringlets like what every other girl I saw seemed to have? Why was my hair an amalgamation of the two that couldn't decide what it was?

The muse would return:

"Just cut it off; life will be so much easier. You don't have to spend money on shampoo, and you don't need to dry your hair afterward. It'll be out of the way. Just think about it."

All these pro shaving idealities from my internal dialogue were compelling to my mind, however quickly dissipated when I decided to debate myself out and write a list of cons:

• People will think you've had a mental breakdown.

• It'll look like you've gone through chemo.

• You'll look like a rebel or a feminist.

Evidently these arguments stemmed from a place of deep insecurity and societal conditioning, caring way too much of what other people would think of me and my appearance. Being 15, I was not at all fond of the spotlight or being labelled and I certainly did not want to draw any more unwanted attention to myself. I chose to wait it out, but the reveries kept coming, creeping up on me like a compulsion that I would resist for 5 years before succumbing to action.

This is my story of (no) regrets:

I was 19 at the time living in New Zealand on a working holiday visa. Scrimping on money with a friend so we could enjoy the fruits of our labour in between various farming jobs across the country.

One day whilst strolling down the streets of Auckland, a hair salon took my eye. Not because I was in need of a dire haircut but because there was a poster in the window with before and after photos of people with dreadlocks.

Dreadlocks were quite a popular hairstyle in New Zealand at the time however I had originally assumed people created them themselves by not washing and knotting their hair together. Learning something new, I smirked and continued up the High-street when an idea came to me: 'To get rid of dreadlocks you'd have to cut them off right?'

This was my "Eureka" moment of solving the shaving of hair dilemma I had been dealing with the past few years.

I promptly turned back and stepped into the salon observing the customer getting their braids done when a friendly looking Ghanaian woman approached me and asked if she could help. I asked her what she thought about the possibility of me getting dreadlocks.

She observed my hair noting the wisps of baby hair in the front and replied she could do it tomorrow for a sum of $535 *approx.

My eyes widened in shock. ‘Does getting dreadlocks really cost that much?’ I exclaimed to myself in surprise.

Now, I had never in my life spent more than £25 on my hair for a haircut which I only ever had every couple of years or so and the thought of spending £250 on my hair (A sum I would have never considered spending on my hair) made me wince.

I quickly pondered the possibility of doing dreadlocks myself and conducted a brief internal discussion before making the impulsive decision of accepting an 11am appointment the next morning.

My reasoning for saying yes was as follows: I knew the locs would not be as neat if I had done them myself and I might as well experience the full head of locs in one day rather than trialling out a few first and spending time on them individually.

I was only able to justify my decision of agreeing to pay the amount by telling myself that I would keep the dreadlocks out of compromise for at least a year because that way I wouldn't have to pay for a haircut anyway or spend much on hair products. Furthermore, if they really looked that terrible on me I would have wasted a lot of money but at least I would finally be able to shave my head! (Which was a win in my mind)

I washed my hair that evening sifting my hair through my fingers, knowing it would be a long time before I’d be able to wash my hair again, let alone comb it.

The next morning, I arrived 10 minutes early for my 11am appointment. Nervously entering the salon, the lady I spoke to the previous day readily acknowledged my presence and insisted she would be with me shortly. My friend had come along too, eager to time lapse the process and since there was another client getting a head full of box braids happily chatting away with another hairdresser, we sat down on the waiting bench and watched mesmerizingly at the rapid finger movements of the hairdresser creating some of the neatest braids we had ever seen.

Nearing 11am the woman explained she just needed to pop out to get some lunch and would be back soon.” Fair enough” I thought. By 11:20 she returned and began picking on her lunch while redirecting me to the seat in front of the mirror. The woman then announced we would just wait for the gentleman to finish up however he had only half a head done, and so the two hairdressers proceeded to work together quickly to finish him up.

My friend became a little impatient as the hairdresser claimed it would be a 5-hour process and it had already been over an hour before they had even begun on my hair. Having nothing to do that day I let my friend go and told her to see the update in 5 hours.

It was nearing 1pm by the time they had begun on my hair after almost finishing the gentlemen and eating a little bit. The woman filtered my hair between her fingers said it was a good consistency then spoke a few words to the hairdresser next-door and the process finally began…

The woman started by partitioning my hair into little square patches on my scalp. Segmenting each one to start the process of crocheting. They began sticking plasters on their fingers so they wouldn’t get pricked. ‘Odd’ I shrugged, “how painful was this going to be?” I questioned. Little did I know was that when the crocheting neared my scalp, it felt as if the small strands of hair were being plucked like a chicken and I was holding back the tears whilst clenching my jaw whilst each of the 34 dreadlocks were started.

The woman again examined my weak hair once the segments had each begun and mentioned adding some extensions to the front to bulk out the locs. I was learning a lot about dreadlocks already. I had never contemplated extensions before and thought it rather unnatural but when she pointed to the length the loc would be at the front, I readily agreed. They then mentioned that if I wanted to keep the length of my hair they could add extensions to all of them. Now the idea of having plastic in my hair outweighed the image of having half the length of my then mid back hair. She whispered the sums into my ears. Explaining that I could have extensions the length of my hair or even longer. I thought it unusual for her to lower her voice but perhaps she was being polite about discussing money matters I presumed. I considered that if it was $20 extra to keep the length of my hair and $50 for it to reach my coccyx then I’d go for the latter. I’d never had that long hair and thought why not experience it and I could always cut it off later.

It was getting late my friend had come in for the 5 hour mark but there was still a long way to go yet. At that time people walking past were looking through the window waving and giving thumbs up to the hair. It was nearing 7pm by then. The hairdressers said not to worry as the kids came home from school and ran around for a few hours waiting for their parents to finish. I offered to come back the next day but they refused and found it a little unusual but I assumed it was perhaps a small business in need of their clients. I could not believe how quickly time flied as I endured a 9 hour hairdo of tugging pulling and sitting in the same spot to complete a set of locs attached to my head. I learnt a lot about their lives and time in New Zealand and they had told me life won’t be the same again with dreadlocks like these. I didn’t think much of the remark as I was in a such a good mood that day excited about the prospect of someday shaving off my hair.

It was 11pm by the time my hair was finally finished and after happily chatting and exchanging smiles and photos it was revealed that the price for my hair was $1250! I became frantic. I have no idea of my facial expression in that moment but believe me it was of utter disbelief. She had whispered One Two and Fifty into my ears which I had interpreted as $20 extra for mid back and $50 extra for waist length!

I didn't even know if I had had that much in the bank and immediately asked if I could transfer. They asked for cash. I was scrambling in worry my mind racing in incredulity of what I had just done. I was in the middle of an unknown city trying to get money out of an ATM at 11pm and the machine read decline! Typing various digits into the ATM I luckily manged $500 out as there was a limit due to being a notorious high street for theft. I tried to explain calmly my situation.

Mercifully, they put their trust in me to return and allowed me to come back the next day to pay the remainder of $750.

Walking back alone to the hostel with a heavy head (literally) was the first time anyone had stopped me in the street for a liquor store. I put that down as coincidence but once I arrived at the hostel I was stopped immediately by security at reception because they didn't recognise anyone with a main of dreadlocks. I was filled with panic of the decision which I had just made. When they told me, my life had changed I didn’t envision a negative perception of people with dreadlocks. I tried to explain my situation and once they listened and understood, they let me in. A girl at the hostel gave me a confused look before bursting out with laughter asking me what I had just done. The next few weeks were filled with reactions of people and acclimatising to my new look.

Embarrassed at the amount of money I had just spent on my hair I didn’t dare tell anyone how much I spent on it. *(Lucky for you; you are the first to know)* Just 2 days after getting dreadlocks I was questioned about how long I had had my dreadlocks and how much it cost. Thus began a string of ‘lies’ keeping to the notion that I spent $500 (still a very large sum) and that I had them in for a year. I was so ashamed of spending that much on extension dreadlock hair, I felt fake.

The first few nights it felt like my hair was Velcro, extremely heavy and about to rip off. Running or any other form of exercise with dreadlocks was like trying to balance a beanbag above your head that became itchy whilst you sweat. It was not fun to start with.

The amount of work to maintain my hair exceeded my expectations. I was compelled to maintain the neat dreadlocks and followed a rigorous wash schedule and crocheting. I ended up paying more money to have them neatened up every six months or so as I couldn’t keep it up.

I began to comprehend what the hairdressers had stated. My life was different. People’s perceptions of dreadlocks come from all over. Many perceive your look as “hippy”, or Rastafarian. I was neither. Just a girl secretly wanting to shave her hair off. It was a good conversation starter and helped my confidence in ways I cannot describe. I experienced some crazy things along the way which I have thanks for my hair to open my eyes to. A man once asked if I wanted free food and of course being on a tight budget I assumed we were going to go on a dumpster dive but instead ended up in a homeless shelter. I couldn’t accept food of course because I wasn’t homeless, but I don’t think he would have taken me had I not had dreadlocks.

About a year or so later whilst continuing the travel work life, the Australian heat became too much for me to bear and I cut the dreadlocks to the point I could see my natural hair. Each of the 34 dreadlocks took approximately 4 hours to get all the plastic out and I was left with my natural hair. I liked my natural locs even more and marvelled why I had ever gone with extensions in the first place.

Moving back to Europe where perception of dreadlocks again differ, I was intrigued to find out that my boss mentioned she had hired me because she thought I was more chilled; ( the complete opposite of my own opinion.)

I kept the dreads for a while longer and decided 2020 New Years was the perfect opportunity to finally shave my head. Just under 2 years of having them.

New years was here, spending time with my cousins and her friends when I finally got the courage to cut them off. A few friends helped cut off the sausages (my host kids liked to call them) and eventually I was left with a few fibres of 1cm hair above my head. Happy and weightless I just stood under the rainfall of water stroking my hair. Although just cut, I never got that same attention again. My hair then looked more like a hedgehog and I reclined back into my introvert hole enjoying the regrowth of my natural hair.

So after spending a staggering amount of money on hair that I eventually cut off I regret not questioning more. My hair has half grown back now and I have yet to shave my head completely bald but having learned the hard way I insist you always clarify a price before accepting a service!