Many San Luis Obispo High School students care too much about their hair.

I have always had a love hate relationship with my hair. One side always grew shorter than the other because I vigorously twirled and yanked at it until I satisfied my anxiety driven needs. As I watched my friends hair grow longer, mine stayed stunted. 

  I ruined my hair and did not care enough to stop it, so why should I care enough about it to enact change? But like all good things,except the right side of my hair, change is destined and common. 

  I sat through continuous hair appointments and handed over $850 dollars for hair extensions, just days after thinking it did not matter to me, because once your own thoughts are belittled by others, your chance of changing something is higher than before. 

  How did something so unimportant to me become my sole use of money, time, and my biggest insecurity? Like everything in my life, it was the influence of a guy that made me drop everything. It was not necessarily the first time someone has said something about my hair. I used to dye my hair pink every time I felt rebellious or slightly depressed, and people would say rude remarks. I should add warranted remarks as well, because pink hair is hard to pull off, but that is besides the point. This time those remarks were coming from someone I held high regards for, whether that was smart or not, it was uncontrollable. 

  The first time we hung out, I said something along the lines of how excited I was that my hair was finally growing. Harmless- I thought I was keeping a conversation going, as he was talking about cutting his own hair, but his response was, “Ya, bummer you cut it. Girls with long hair are way hotter. At least it will grow, right?” Needles to say I stopped talking to him, because I’m not an idiot and still had some self trust. But his words stuck with me. As I found out he had a new girl with long blonde hair, and the naive idea in my head that we could talk again left, I still craved having long hair. I thought maybe if he would just see me with long hair, maybe if everyone saw me with long hair, I would be prettier.  

  After words with my parents who discouraged me when seeing the cost and upkeep, I got them put in. I was hesitant at first but soon began to think I looked better. I even got my senior photos taken with them. A memory now tainted with someone’s else’s thoughts rather than my own. It was not until two months later and a long awaited cry of all that was going wrong, that I began to rip my hair out one by one. This was two days ago.

   I realized the way he portrayed the ideal hair for women affected my confidence and worth. I know this has not just happened to me, many girls with dyed or short hairstyles are labeled a sexuality and political party before even opening their mouths. Something so small in someone’s worth defines their beauty, sexuality, and desirability. The worst part is not that these women are having to deal with this, because I know they are strong, being oppressed for so long, but the fact that most men do not believe this is wrong. 

  I’m not condemning men for having preferences. I’m simply letting them know do not pursue a woman if you can not stand by her decisions with her body and hair without having to say something negative. If you’re looking for a blonde hair bimbo then find one but don’t come crying when she decides to cut her locks.

  Hair as you know is dead, and in my case, it was fake, a ploy that fooled myself into thinking 16 inches of some girls hair from a foreign country glued to my scalp was going to make me, “all that”. As I ripped it out laying on my ground, kleenex covering my floor, I have never felt more powerful. 

  And to all the men who are listening; baldness affects fifty percent of you in our American Country.