September 01, 2004

PASSING

I cut off my hair. A lot of it. Kind of just hacked at it with scissors til it looked satisfyingly ugly. I wanted to look like all the German women I love who have these really irreconsilable ugly hairdon't and pull them off with sexy aplumb. My hair was down mid-chest length. Being femme-y was fine, but I think real long hair is kind of porno. I felt like a mermaid. So now my hair is about eight inches shorter and looks like an accident. It's okay, because 2004 is really just about looking as weird as I feel. Willingly having an unflattering hairstyle is my way of saying I don't agree , for this week,, inspired by my weekend experience of djing to women who stopped operating on the patriarchy's clock sometime around '67 and who, as a result are deeply and profoundly free . I, like most of the young universe, spend a decent amount of of my 24 hours concerned with how I can be cool, stay cool and navigating fantasy hinged on coolness and what having it means. I kind of realized, you know, I really don't have that kind of time. My smart outfits and cunning witticisms do not go forth as doing good work in the world.

So, yeah, about my hair: For years, I had really short hair, shaved my head, which I loved. I loved it because I could pass for a boy on occasion, because I am of a slight build and my bitchiness easily transmutes to butchness. Passing was great and sedituous fun, and it still makes me envious of my friends that are gender-queer -- as gender ambiguity forces other people have to reconsile their own ideas about identity -- it's a pretty radical thing to take on. Being an "unfeminine" girl in the American-now is like treason.

When I was blonde, men generally expected very little of me, were marvelled by my brain power, laughed harder at my jokes and let me (sic) get away with (sic) most everything. Being blonde is like having some pass card, or secret hand shake - you can take the Concorde over certain brunette obstacles because you are graced with male-approval in the 7-11, at work, at the show. It was a clever trick, but I stopped going blonde when I realized that it's greatest impact on my life was having less respect for men than I already did.

I am anticipating a return to a shaved head by xmas.

Posted by Jessica at September 1, 2004 11:40 PM | TrackBack