Snip snip! Time for a haircut
I’m writing this letter after a BIG haircut. For the first time in my adult life, I chopped it short. And honestly, it was one of the most liberating experiences that I’ve had in a while.
If you know me at all, you understand know that this is quite a big deal for me. I’ve had the same shoulder-length hair for as long as I can remember.
There was a moment in the early 90s when I rocked a bowl cut, but it wasn’t by choice (thanks, mom), and it devastated me. I stood in front of the mirror of my childhood bedroom, crying and wallowing in my self-pity. I’m not sure why it upset me to the extent that it did (gender norms start early, I suppose), but I distinctly remember believing that the other kindergarteners were going to destroy me for my boyish look. After that, I wasn’t willing to take any chances. I grew my hair out and vowed to never change it again.
Over the years, I experimented with small tweaks in colors and styles (the slicked-back ponytail, the jersey pouf, the chunky highlights), but beyond these blips of self-expression, things stayed pretty much the same.
Looking back, my resistance to take any big chances on my hair represented a deeper desire to appear “normal”. I desperately wanted to fit in, and I didn’t want to make any sudden changes that could draw criticism or judgment.
And for awhile, this is also how I lived my life. Coloring within the lines. Following the path. Playing it safe. Ensuring my look was palatable to the masses.
With all the changes I’ve stepped into this past year, I’ve played with the fantasy of cutting my hair shorter. But each time I went in for a haircut, I found a reason to talk myself out of it. I would commit in my mind, and then pull back. I was clearly settling into a pattern. And if I’ve learned anything on this journey of self-discovery, what you resist will persist. If something continuously circles back, it means there’s something there.
When I dropped into my body, I realized that the only thing keeping me from cutting it short was people’s perceptions of me. Could I still pass as straight? Would it change how strangers treated me? What unspoken privilege was I giving up when I let go of my long hair? The fact that I was making decisions based on other people’s perception was enough to convince me to chop it off.
So, I went for it. I didn’t even tell my partner that I was going short because I didn’t want any outside influence. Without giving it too much thought, I sat down in the chair, showed my hairdresser a photo of what I wanted, and told them I was ready to let go of my hair.
They picked up the scissors and asked, “Are you ready?”
Slowly, I watched the inches of hair drop to the floor. I knew this haircut would be a big change, but I didn’t realize the spectrum of emotions that it would stir up. I watched old parts of myself fall away: the shame, the fear, and the containing and maintaining, the parts of my life that I held onto for way too long. I grieved the years spent conforming to someone else’s story. I mourned the parts of myself that let other people’s opinions run my life.
As my brown locks fell away, my shoulders relaxed. I put down an unnecessary weight I had been carrying around. I surrendered to a new version of myself. Everything felt lighter.
In that moment, I felt immense pride that I followed my instinct, that I stepped into this change fully and unapologetically, without needing anyone’s sign off or stamp of approval. I didn’t do it because it was going to boost my social status, or to make someone like me. I did it because I was curious, and it kept showing up, and that was enough.
Yes, I know it’s JUST a haircut, and people cut their hair all the time. But for me, it felt like a lot more than that. And sometimes, the smallest changes hold the biggest insights.
Cutting my hair gave me a startling sense of agency and choice. I was consciously releasing an old identity to make space for something new. It represented a deliberate reordering of what was.
It meant stripping myself of old cultural conditioning that was keeping me small. It meant shedding a layer steeped in self-betrayal, self-doubt, and fear.
It was the catalyst for deeper self-inquiry. It brought up potent questions and reflections about my gender and femininity and privilege and power and how I move through the world and new parts of myself that are yet to be explored.
Cutting my hair made space for new growth. A growth that is brimming with curiosity, self-expression, and self-trust. It empowered me to follow my own becoming and make room for an unexpected shift.
It’s not everyday that we get to watch these changes happen in real time. Our evolution is a slow process that requires a lot of trust and patience, and we can’t always “see” the shifts as they’re happening. My haircut was a tangible representation that something inside me was ready to be reordered.
An interesting thing happens when we move in the direction of who we’re meant to be. As we start taking steps towards our true nature, our psyches begin giving us instructions about how to reorganize the remnants of our old identities into something that is completely different, something that makes more sense—without reason, explanation, or justification.
You see, in these moments of evolution, you’re becoming a new person, and you’ll start to develop curiosities and traits and interests that your old self didn’t have. There is a death and rebirth happening. You may feel drawn to change your hairstyle, or clothing, to clean out old pictures, or to redecorate an entire space in your home. The old order no longer makes sense, and you begin reordering your outer situations to reflect your inner rebirth.
It’s fascinating how making small changes in our outer world can give us big answers about what we’re craving on the inside.
Oftentimes, to make space for this inner rearranging, we need to let go of the old parts that are no longer working. We need to get rid of the shit that’s taking up space, that’s holding us back from how we truly want to feel.
We need to let go of the hair, or the couch, or the dying plant that just won’t bounce back. We need to clean out the garage, or the attic, or the office.
We may need to let go of the relationship, the job, the draining client, or the desire to get your kid into that very specific preschool.
We may need to release expectations about how our lives “should” look, or how we thought things were going to go.
We may need to cut ties with old identities and patterns and limiting beliefs that are keeping us from our truest, most beautiful lives.
When we let go of things the old attachments, we clear the path for more authentic parts of ourselves to come through. We provide a fertile environment for new growth to take place.
My friend, I’m wondering if you can think of something that you’ve been holding onto for too long. Perhaps there’s a part of you that feels outdated or expired? Ripe for reorganizing, rearrangement, or reshuffling?
Where in your life are your ends splitting? Where could you use a fresh cut?
Might you be ready to release that old part so you can make space for something new (something more YOU) to come forward?
I know some of those cuts you need to make are kinda scary, but when you remove the dead weight, you can start to focus your growth energy on who you really are and what you really want.
So, let’s get trimming.
You’ll be amazed by what starts to rearrange itself.
Nicole is coach, business mentor, and entrepreneur living in the Pacific Northwest. She specializes in life coaching and business mentoring for individuals, entrepreneurs, and creatives.
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