Blogger Natalie Hage has been hosting our Summer Sunday Facebook Live series and spending a lot of time with our community. Right before she chopped off her long locks, she consulted the Dia Community to get their opinions and gather the courage she needed for the big cut. Now that she has short hair, she’s reflecting on everything her long hair used to represent for her—and what her relationship to her hair is today.
Written by Natalie Hage
If you would have told me five years ago that I’d now have hair that sits on top of my shoulders, I would have thought you were out of your mind. It’s not something that I like to admit, but I held way too much of my identity in my super long, thick hair. My hair always ran the length of my back and sat at the top of my butt. When I had my hair down, I felt powerful. I swear my hair had a mind of her own! When my hair was flowing, I was glowing.
I had convinced myself that pretty much all of my beauty lied within my hair. I convinced myself that my hair defined my femininity, my sexiness, my attractiveness. I convinced myself that if I cut my hair off, I would no longer have something special about me.
I convinced myself that my hair defined my femininity, my sexiness, my attractiveness.
I never realized how common this feeling was until I started discussing the possibility of going through with “the big chop” in social media groups containing mostly plus-size women. When I poured my heart out about wanting to take the plunge but being afraid of losing my attractiveness, I was met with so many “Me too!” and “I know exactly what you mean,” responses. It was so overwhelming that it made me think deeper about the connection between the idea of “femininity” and being plus size.
There seems to be this unspoken societal expectation of “femininity” from plus-size women, especially in the fashion world. That in order to be taken seriously, we must be extremely put-together to be seen as stylish or cool. We must be dressed to the nines with our hair perfectly in place, our makeup done flawlessly, and our bodies posed elegantly to get the same appreciation as our thin peers (who can literally roll out of bed with no makeup and get told they look so edgy and effortless). Though I could write a hundred more blog posts about my theories on this subject, for now, I digress.
All of that is to say that I felt like my hair was part of my “femininity” costume. I realized that I used my hair as a figurative—and literal—shroud that covered me and kept me protected against the world.
There seems to be this unspoken societal expectation of ‘femininity’ from plus-size women, especially in the fashion world.
I had an a-ha moment late last year when I got real with myself and admitted I was afraid of way too many things. If I wanted to live a fuller life, I had to specifically do the things that scared me. I told myself that it was okay to be scared to do something, but that I needed to do it anyway. This new outlook encouraged me to go on my first cruise (I am terrified of being stuck places), it helped me go on a coaster through the Haitian mountains, it helped me fly more places, it helped me climb a waterfall, and it helped me create so many new memories that I would have never made if I let my fear control me.
I knew cutting my hair was one of those fears. Of course, logically, I know that hair grows back. But when you feel like your identity is defined by your hair, a regular haircut becomes as scary as climbing a mountain. I looked up salons and made an appointment. I had so many breakdowns over the next few days. I documented my feelings the night before in a YouTube video. The morning of, I almost vomited and asked my boyfriend if he would still think I was beautiful if I cut it all off. He, of course, responded with a resounding yes, over and over.
When you feel like your identity is defined by your hair, a regular haircut becomes as scary as climbing a mountain.
I got to the salon and had a chat with the hairstylist—she was so excited for me to take this step. Once she did the first cut, a wave of peace came over me. Sounds dramatic, but it’s true. There was no going back at that point, so I made peace with it.
When she was done and I looked in the mirror, I couldn’t believe what I saw: it was still me. I was still Natalie. Two feet of hair and a lifetime of fear were gone. It felt like, for the first time in my life, I could actually see me.
What this experience taught me is that some of your greatest moments in life live on the other side of fear. Whether it’s fears about traveling, your body, your clothing, your hair, your career, dating—whatever they may be—when you face your fears, magic can happen. I implore you to do the same: Be scared and do it anyway.
P.S. I’ve since cut even more of my hair off and couldn’t be happier. Who would have thought?
Want more stories from women in our community? Bookmark the “Meet” category!
