{"id":1887,"date":"2016-06-14T05:31:27","date_gmt":"2016-06-14T00:01:27","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/13.201.39.237\/bald-woman-india-haircut-relationships\/"},"modified":"2016-06-14T05:31:27","modified_gmt":"2016-06-14T00:01:27","slug":"bald-woman-india-haircut-relationships","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/13.207.105.184\/?p=1887","title":{"rendered":"Why the World Can\u2019t Handle a Bald Woman"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

O<\/span>h, what a luxury getting a haircut is! The whole ritual of walking into a <\/p>salon<\/span><\/a>, being asked what look you want, trusting the stylist to make the better choice, relishing the pre-cut hair wash, savouring each cut, and feeling the tiny hairs on my neck prickling with each snip. The hair dryer\u2019s heat sends waves singing through my body. All the anxiety comes to rest when I take a final look in the mirror at my transformed self. <\/span>\n\nThis luxury has eluded me in the last year. A bout of dengue here, the after-effects of hair colour there, accompanied by a cocktail of different hair oils and shampoos, has meant that I\u2019ve managed clumps of balled-up hair strands on the floor without having to sit in the <\/span>hairdresser\u2019s seat<\/span><\/a>. Looking at those black orbs, floating into oblivion every day led to further stress, and in turn induced even more hair loss. \u00a0<\/span>\n\nWhen I first began to lose hair, people around me began to think that I was also losing my mind, because there were times that I wished I could shave my head. Grappling with the idea was a favourite pastime. But my idea of female beauty and notions of womanhood were so deeply entrenched that it ensured that for a long time, the idea remained just that\u2026 an idea. <\/span>\n\nEvery time I\u2019ve taken one of those \u201cAre you spontaneous?\u201d quizzes in beauty magazines, my answer has always been: Can\u2019t say. I consider myself free-spirited, but I am also an over-thinker. All that changed one wintry Sunday evening. <\/span>\n

All it took was one more look at the floor for me to reach the tipping point.<\/blockquote>\nAfter oiling, shampooing, and conditioning my hair, I sat preening like a shampoo model in my balcony. All it took was one more look at the floor for me to reach the tipping point. I straightaway announced my intent to <\/span>shave my head<\/span><\/a> to my mother; to my surprise, the only thing she asked was why I had wasted so much oil and shampoo if I only wanted to get rid of them. <\/span>\n\nFlush with the excitement of finally seeing my intent through, I walked into a women\u2019s salon that promptly refused to shave my head. They cited non-availability of a trimmer, but I suspect it was because I\u2019d sent them into collective shock. So I had to resort to the <\/span>men\u2019s salon<\/span><\/a> next door, where I was greeted with even more shock — but at least, they didn\u2019t turn away a customer. One staffer callously chopped my hair, as I attempted to look unperturbed. He then took an \u201custraa\u201d to my head, leaving me feeling almost naked. I could sense the discomfort in the salon, which mirrored my own. \u00a0<\/span>\n\nOnce my head was stripped clean, I gingerly looked into the mirror. This\u2026 would take time getting used to. I didn\u2019t realise it then, but the lack of my hair would become the concern of the world I was about to step into. \u00a0<\/span>\n\nImmediately after exiting the <\/span>salon<\/span><\/a>, I was plagued by buyer\u2019s remorse. I headed straight to the mall nearby to buy beanies. I had to soften the shock; it\u2019s not like you can spring this kind of surprise on your colleagues or fellow commuters on the metro. Back home I took several selfies, pretending to look like Doctor Evil and the Joker from the <\/span>Suicide Squad<\/span><\/i>. Could I get used to this? <\/span>\n
Once the haircut happens, though, the relationship is well and truly over.<\/blockquote>\nThe following morning, no one paid attention to the girl with the beanie on the train. At work, however, there was an almost unanimous show of \u201cwhat the hell happened\u201d. After all, aren\u2019t women supposed to take these extreme steps after a life-altering heartbreak?<\/span>\n\nIn the absence of any such dramatic motives, I received hearty congratulations for my \u201cbrave\u201d move from friends, who began to greet me with a customary head rub. <\/span>\n\nMy relatives meanwhile, had polar opposite reactions. I had the endorsement of the tiny ones, the nephews and nieces, but the older ones seemed genuinely concerned about my mental health. One cousin considered my baldness such a challenge to normalcy that he refused to be seen in public with me. I wish I had asked him why this embarrassment was missing with other family members who are also bald, but are men. <\/span>\n\nI am pretty certain none of those men have had to defend their baldness to complete strangers. A bald head on a man draws sympathy; on a woman, it draws curiosity. My answers varied from \u201cA rat ate it\u201d to \u201cI was in Sudan on an assignment and did not want to waste time grooming.\u201d <\/span>\n\nOn my commute, I was routinely mistaken for a man, and pushed or brushed aside. I was perplexed over how to react to that. Should I be happy about the diminishing of gender stereotypes? Or be enraged by the total disregard for another human being\u2019s space? Should I feel thankful for being treated as a man in a man\u2019s world? Or was it yet another manifestation of how women are expected to look?<\/span>\n\nFinding the answers to that nearly did my head in. But at least, my hair began to grow back. <\/span>\n\nI now have a decent mane. I could be a shampoo model now — except for my greying hair. This new issue has again left my relatives in a tizzy. My hair, just like my marital status, is of concern to every single aunty I meet. They\u2019re now devising amla-shikakai-henna hair concoctions that will help me tide over this new episode of life. <\/span>\n\nAs for me? I\u2019m resigned to the fact that a woman\u2019s hair is never really her own.\u00a0For now, I sport a short crop of hair that is in most places a cringe-worthy orange, owing to incessant beseeching from my mother to put on the henna-laden hair mask.<\/span>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Once I decided to shave my head, there was an almost unanimous show of \u201cwhat the hell happened\u201d. Relatives were concerned about my mental health and complete strangers asked me if I was suffering from a terminal disease.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":189,"featured_media":1888,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[170],"tags":[3726,3727,710,3728,22],"class_list":["post-1887","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-gender","tag-bald","tag-bald-woman","tag-feminism","tag-haircut","tag-relationships"],"yoast_head":"\nWhy the World Can\u2019t Handle a Bald Woman<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Once I decided to shave my head, there was an almost unanimous show of \u201cwhat the hell happened\u201d. 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