Professional Appearance

The Drill Sergeants were particularly careful on this part of the climbing tower. The rope hung suspended over a twenty-foot drop into a net. My fly-away hair was desperately trying to escape the neatly wrapped bun in the Oklahoma wind. On my turn, I crossed my legs around the rope leaned my chest against it. Shifting my body hand over hand, I climbed across the gap.

"Dickens!" I heard a female Drill Sergeant call out from the platform slightly above where I am climbing to. "Is there a bit of green in your hair?" I was suspended by a delicate balance of my legs, hands, and rope, much like the young female Soldier in the picture below from Fort Sill Tribunal Staff article "10 weeks from civilian to Soldier."

"Yes, Drill Sergeant!" I shouted, before continuing to climb horizontally across the rope. Reach. Pull. Reach. I heard laughter from multiple levels around me.

"Why is there a bit of green in your hair?" she asks with a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

Unphased, I finally explain the hair I meant to explain during military in-processing. "My whole head was dyed blue-green a year ago. I thought it would fade by the time I got here, Drill Sergeant." I had to pause as I had reached the platform at the end. I worked to safely disengage before I finished. "I thought it would fade or the Army would make me get a haircut."

She was now somewhat blocked from view by the wooden structure, and I got ushered on to the next challenge.

I had not intentionally concealed my hair. When I swore in at MEPs my green hair was plainly visible, even if this angle doesn't capture it. I remember the recruiters saying I could get my hair cut before I went to basic training, but even if I showed up with something out of regulations they would make me get a haircut once I got there. Not having much funds to spare, I decided I could wait.

The Drill Sergeants had inspected our stuff for contraband in an ugly room with a dropped ceiling. They had also subtly checked us for body piercings, problematic tattoos or glaringly out of regulation hair. I remember being asked to turn my head as the in-processing Drill Sergeant inspected my hair. The lighting had been poor and my hair was already secured in a bun that showed only the blond majority of my hair. As my hair grew longer, the little inch or so of green that stubbornly would not fade moved within my bun. By the climbing tower it was prominently visible in the two inches of hair that everyone could see.

The week before Basic Training graduation the females were finally taken to a hairdresser. We couldn't look ate-up on our graduation day. I cut the sliver of stubborn green. I actually went from long hair to a pixie cut, because I was sick of the Okahoma wind blowing hair out of my bun onto my face. The Drill Sergeants were baffled by that change too.

I didn't know if I would be transitioning after one enlistment or a twenty year retirement. However, the rough idea that I would go green again when I got out has stuck with me. I have always been fond of symbolism in real life. Cutting my green hair helped me recognize my shift from a civilian to a Soldier. The change in color at the end of my service provides a physical manifestation of my renewal and growth. When that day came, this is the haircut I got.

The many green shades I recognizing connect to important pieces of life that have come before. There are many shades, like the temperate rainforest I grew up in. They are varied and mixed like the camouflage I wore as a Soldier. I picture a forest when I meditate for healing and renewal. Throughout my adult life I have associated the colors with my most prevalent bouts of creativity. I was sorry to leave the military so short, but being able to express myself through my hair has been one of the highlights of returning to civilian life.