Why I Am Shaving My Head

More people than ever are experiencing alopecia. Hair loss from drugs, chemo, cancer, chronic illness, hormonal imbalance.

I am priveleged that my mane is  thick and healthy, an adaptable color and medium wave. I am very blessed, and I know that. I want to know some of how the other half lives.


It’s also a reclaiming for me.

Historically, and still in some parts of the world, to shave the head of a woman is one step removed from rape. It is a sign of humiliation and shame, a taking by force of something she values, stripping dignity. A man can do it in a fit of moral passion and still sleep at night. 

It was meant to brand the “wayward woman”, the rebel. The social outcast. The less-than. The UnWoman.

Come on, baby, light my fire…

I have talked to women who are in relationships where the other person will literally not allow them to cut their hair, or has such strong opinions about its beauty value and what the loss of it would be that the woman is too afraid to lose their appeal or worth in that person’s eyes.

I have been that woman.

I have hidden behind my hair, distracted myself with updating it when I couldnt or wouldnt change other things in my life that needed attention.

I have tried more products, styles, changes, and accessories than I care to count. A lot of them worked for me! I am priveleged with great hair, I can carry off a variety of styles and looks. Almost everything looks good on me.

I don’t know if it’s because of the amount of blessing or not, but for me my hair has been both a canvas of experimentation and a visible barometer of my internal journey. So if I feel my hair is not reflecting my state-of-soul, I get dissatisfied.

Until recently when I figured this out, I just thought I was a flighty and shallow, insecure bitch!! And so have a lot of hair stylists and probably my husband, LOL! 

Also…I’m kinda just done. Not even pixie-cut done, SHAVE done.

I have really thick hair. REALLY THICK. I get flaky scalp, oily sebum stuff that gets under my nails, and after the first day post shower it just ends up pulled back, out of the way. And then I get headaches and tender scalp because it’s so heavy.

My hair is in my way.

I am a mother of a toddler. Or should I say, tugger.

I want some freedom.

Also, I’d like to switch it up and spend more time with makeup when I go out because I KNOW what my hair is doing! 

This hair has been with me through some of the most stressful times of my life, to date. It and my cells are carrying the memory of that.

I can’t slough off all my old cells, though they will all be replaced within a year. Except for my hair… that I can chose to part with, now.

So many cultures have traditions of hair cutting. For grief, repentance, marriage, shame, new beginnings.

I ran across a quote on Pinterest, “A woman who changes her hair is about to change her life.”

And I am.

I want to finally get back to my art post-baby.

I want, for the first time in my LIFE, to join a gym.

I am finally in a new state for the first time, away from parents and friends and anyone who knows me or expects anything of it.

Yes, my husband (a cis hetero man) is complaining. I really do have awesome hair, and I know that. But, he also understands. He has shaved his head multiple times, and is encouraging me out the other side of his mouth to go for it and experience it. 

I have amazing eyes, flawless ears, good skin, a dramatic mouth, and (hopefully) enough chutzpah to carry this off. 🙂

Plus, he might do it with me!!

So, in a sacred (and slightly scared) act of female empowerment and hair activism, I will be learning to love myself for what is there without anything to hide behind or blame.

It will free me to shower more and care for my skin alone, decorate my face, explore core confidence, change my style and habits, embrace new routines and develop my body’s potential for beauty.

As it grows, I hope to have an entirely natural hair care routine, along with brushing and oiling and many fun cuts along the way!

I am excited to learn and love my hair from the roots upward. 🙂

Have you ever engaged in a drastic hairstyle change? How did it make you feel? What, if anything, did it change for you?

XO,

Sarah

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Self Love

I just saw something browsing Instagram.”Here’s to all the girls out there trying to love themselves in a world that’s constantly telling them not to.”

I thought I knew what all parts of the world did that to women, to anyone really, but suddenly I realized there was an element I was ignoring.


Years ago, I ran across Gala Darling and her passion for “Radical Self Love”.

A small, shy, starved part of me wistfully wished I could join. The larger arrogant part skimmed right over it as “all you could expect from someone who had no God to follow”.

Because that part, so bloated with self importance, was terrified. Terrified to love myself.
I have a theory. Please pay close attention, because by saying this I’m not saying it’s the ultimate truth or that it’s even necessarily true for everyone.

But because it is true for me, and because each person has at least 7 physical lookalikes in the world, I think it may be true for seven other women.

And if I can only reach those seven others, I will have done my part in this life.
Most modern Christianity has its roots in Catholicism, or was created by a person familiar with those teachings.

As much as denominations vary greatly, I believe there to be a zietgiest that permeates all of the modern organized church. The idolization of martyrdom and the hatred of Self as a path to holiness.

Like any cultural spirit, it does not affect everyone. And among those affected, not everyone takes it the same way.

I speak just now of the most extreme cases, more particularly of my own case. If you are not one of my seven, please don’t find it your burden to comment and sally forth to right my misconceptions. Ive tried, you see.

And I believe Ive finally found a path that opened me up to the Love and Happiness God and the Universe offer us with each breath. I’m so grateful.

This path is one difficult to define or describe.

The blanket sentiment of “spiritual but not religious” is being adopted by my generation of late.

I have no problem calling myself a witch. I’m flirting with the idea of calling myself Pagan. Though it’s hard, because of what this often means to the world and because through a divorce of culture I find it difficult to keep my “maiden name”, I can call myself a progressive Christian. I believe the shamanic worldview, the wisdoms of Buddha, the virtues of Native American spirituality. Most of all, I believe in science.

And the beauty is that none of these things are mutually exclusive, if you dont want them to be.

But the one thing I have not believed in is myself.
For the longest time I believed I didnt need to love myself. How could I? I knew what I was like.

I thought I had to find people who would love me.

In a way I knew God did, but I needed to see and feel it desperately.

Because I wasnt loving myself. And, I’m sure, ignoring the Divine invitation to do so.

I had somehow concocted the belief, “You don’t need to love yourself. That’s vain, selfish, self centered, and a wrongful use of your time. Let God love you, and Jesus, that’s his job.”

And oh my, didnt I have my work cut out to try and follow this sage advice… Which of course only led to more grief, since by starving my

capacity to recieve love from myself I shrank the whole works. There’s not two seperate tubes. Your love receptors work the same no matter who’s doing the loving.
There’s a memory I have, of playing on a red swing set we had growing up. It’s late afternoon, I think. I and some friends or possibly my brother are talking about our bodies being a temple of the Holy Spirit. I remember seeing in my mind’s eye sandstone walls, open sky, a river, a light, and a white dove with a purple gem flashing on its breast.

Perhaps that was a vision of the temple that I am for Spirit.

A temple is a fitting house, a dwelling.

Young me knew I was worthy.

Something changed.
It’s not just the ads saying to shrink this or cover that.

It’s not just movie star waists and tumblr fashion dreams that hold us back and make our hearts sick.

It’s in our churches, our homes, our hearts.

It’s a culture of not loving yourself.

A man called Yeshua said the entire second point of the Torah and prophets was to love our neighbor. In the same way that we love ourselves.

I had entirely skipped the first part to attend to the second.

What makes me think the second has any gas without the first?

Somehow, I can only guess through religious misinterpretation, parts of our culture have been so viciously twisted that we truly do not love ourselves anymore.

And this Self-Love Generation? They are working on reclaiming that for us.

If the official canon of scripture were not closed, I would be interested to see the progression and commentary on the words of Yeshua to the words of Abraham Hicks, Edgar Cayce, Hildebrand von Bingen, Jung, and others.

Whimsically, I say they came to tell the world what he meant just as he came to explain the meaning behind the Torah.

I feel I am ready to fling open the doors of my heart and say to the Universe, “I am ready.”

This full moon I KNOW.

I know what my purpose is. There may be many ways I go about it in the future but I’m ready to begin trying.

I have been a healer and shaman in past lives. I have those gifts again.

But in this life, I know I am meant for bigger fish. Many need healing, and I want to help. But I cannot heal the world one person at a time.

What I can do is teach many, to heal more.

And right now, an army of healers is being held captive under churches and Bibles throughout the world. I was one of them.

It may be as simple as believing with all your heart the antiquated Mr. Carson-of-Downton-Abbey opinion of a man named Paul whose foolish words in a personal letter have not permitted any woman to teach or ask questions. Or someone believing it for you.

Either way, that’s powerful.
Have you been afraid of Sanscrit? My mother was.

Ashamed that you liked dreamcatchers or fairies?

Kept silent when asking about all the murder, incest, and slavery in the Bible?
Have you felt all your life that being a daughter of Eve meant you were cursed and inheirantly wicked? I did.
I’m not a self-love teacher, not yet. I am a journeyer. And I can only share where I have so far been.

 

To the pure all things are pure.

Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God [in everything].

Come join me in the light. Come see Everything.
Xo,

Sarah