Hair and belonging

I knew shaving my head would be . . . challenging.

I've had the desire to shave my head for the longest time. I remember once when I was 20 asking my south Indian parents if I could shave my head.

We were at the table, my family of four, my dad, mom, me, and my little brother, eating breakfast. Amma had made crispy dosa and spicy mango chutney. Thinking about it sitting in my third-floor apartment in cold grey England makes my mouth water and my heart ache. We were engaged in mundane everyday conversation, the kind that made me forget about all the worries on my mind. I was with familiar people, in the home I grew up in, surrounded by love and everything was good.

"Acha, can I shave my head?"

He did not miss a beat before nodding his head yes.

"Amma, you're fine too?"

She smiled and said, "sure, why not?"

My brother though, knew what was up. He knew how long I had carried this dream in my heart. He immediately told them "She's not kidding you guys. She'll actually do it."

Amma simply said "Let her." I could see on her face how sure she was that there was no way her daughter would do something like that.

Achan followed with "hair will always grow back"

Kannan shook his head mumbling "don't say I didn't warn you"

And that was the end of that conversation. A year went by and I was in Bombay doing my internship. I hadn't thought about the hair on my head and how I would like to watch it grow out from stubble in a long time. Around this time, my best friend dragged me along to the salon when she went to get her hair done and that was when it happened. No. I did not shave my head. I still didn't have the courage to do it. So instead I chopped the length that reached my mid-back and shortened it to just below my ears. It was effectively a pixie cut but it didn't look like one. And that is the story of how I discovered that I've had curly hair all my life but didn't know it because I was taught to brush it out like normal hair. The lady who cut my hair was wonderful, she told me how to take care of my hair so it would grow out strong and healthy. While all this was exciting, there was a thought at the back of my head "how will Amma react?"

I sent a photo to the family WhatsApp group. Just as I left the saloon my phone rang, it was Amma.

"Hello?"

"What did you do?"

It was Kannan's voice. Mirth coloured his tone.

"Amma is going to freak out"

"I know, but remember that time I asked them for permission and they said go for it because they didn't think I'd do it?"

"I knew you'd bring that up"

"Well they literally gave me permission. So they can't be upset about it"

"It looks nice on you"

"Awww thank you"

"We'll talk again once Amma gets out of the shower and sees the atrocity that is your haircut. Bye now"

I was smiling as he hung up. I couldn't remember the last time my hair was this short and it felt liberating. Amma predictably freaked out and Achan sort of tried to not involve himself in the conversation and that was that. My hair grew out. It took two years but it was finally the same length as when I chopped it short. It was gorgeous and curly and I loved my hair.

The urge was back again and this time I knew the only way out was through. I had thought cutting away the length and watching it grow back would satiate my desires, but apparently not. So I told my brother and my best friend that I was going to shave my head and before they could object, which they both did, vehemently, I told them I'd do it no matter what anyone said or whatever the consequences would be. Little did I know how harsh they would be or how unprepared I was to face them.

The morning of the day I shaved my head I had called home like I always did and Amma had told me remedies to fix my dandruff as she always did. I nodded and told her I would do those things and instead went to the bathroom with the electric razor and shaved my head. I got my best friend to clean up the back of the head because I couldn't get to it. She looked at my long curly hair bunched up by the bathtub and shook her head. She was not happy about it, disapproval raged in her every move, but she did it for me.

After she was done I stood there for a long moment. Just staring at my bald head in the mirror. Seeing for the first time what my face looked like without hair. Noticing the subtle things my hair hid. I had a mole just below my hair line, I'd never noticed it before. I touched my bare head and it felt like electricity. There is a small dip at the centre of my skull. I suspect my parents dropped me when I was a baby and decided to not tell anyone about it. I smiled at myself. I couldn't stop smiling at myself. This was it. I had done it. Fingers still roaming over my scalp I went to take a shower.

Afterwards, when I came out of the bathroom was when it hit me. The reality of what I had done came at me with all the force of a runaway train. That night Amma answered my video call, saw my head, and said one word, my name. She stared at the screen for a few moments, refusing to believe her eyes. Like if she looked for just a little longer my hair would grow back and this would all just be a joke. And when it didn't she promptly cut the call and refused to pick up no matter how many times I called back. Next was Achan's turn. Achan had never been a fan of video calls so it was an audio call conversation that we had.

"I shaved my head"

"Why did you do such a thing?"

My father is a calm man. There are but few things that trigger him. And I was glad to find out that this wasn't one of those things.

"Because I wanted to. I've wanted to for a long time"

My father is also very good at not speaking when he thinks he doesn't have anything to contribute to the conversation. So I was met with silence. I knew he wasn't going to talk so I did.

"Would you like to see? Everyone said it looks good on me"

"No"

"Why?"

"I don't wish to see you like that, that's all"

I took a deep breath in and kept talking to him like what he said hadn't hurt. We said our goodnights and our I love yous and I went to bed with a smile on my face despite what happened, enjoying all the sensory input I received from my new bald head. There was a deep sense of satisfaction within me and nothing could take it away.

Living in the UK with a shaved head is not much of a challenge. People aren't bothered about what you do with your body and there is always someone doing something crazier. I barely stand out here. But the world is small these days. And while most of my friends and old acquaintances had good things to say there are always those that would rather put you down than lift you up. I've learned to let these interactions be what they are- reflections of people and their inner worlds. I've come across a lot of encouragement too. Women telling me I was brave, offering me support, reminding me of my power.

I look forward to my hair growing back. Not because I miss it- trust me, once you've experienced the freedom of short hair you are always going to want it back- but because I love my hair. It wasn't an act of rebellion or despair when I decided to shave my head. It was just something I have always wanted to do and I didn't think anything beyond fulfilling a desire I had carried inside me for a long time. It has been a liberating experience. I don't have to plan out my wash days to line up with my plans. I just wake up and I'm ready to go. I like how my face looks without my hair framing it, and my smile, and the brown of my eyes. It has made me fall in love with myself all over again. I would highly recommend that everyone shave their head at least once in their lifetime. Whatever comes of it will only contribute to your growth as a person and maybe even help you see things from another's perspective.

I sometimes wonder if I would've gone ahead with it if I was still living in India, surrounded by eyes and mouths and minds ready to judge. I like to think I would. Have I convinced you to?