2:28am July 3, 2014

Do not ever ask a trans person for a before and after picture: a personal rant about hair and dysphoria

My mother still has a picture up from when I had long hair, which makes me cry just thinking about it. Cutting my hair was a big step for me coming to terms with myself. All last year at school, no matter how many times I talked to staff, they always used my freshman picture, taken from my very first day, in which my shoulders were not deemed “decent for a young lady” and the photographer made me borrow a (very pink!) sweater, and in which my hair was shoulder-length. I was forced to see myself as I was every single day for attendance purposes, and I hated it. I cannot express to you how much I loathed it. Every fucking day I would pull it up into a hat, or a bun, or anything that would allow me to see myself with short hair looking in the mirror before I went to school. I didn’t know the word “dysphoria” at the time, but looking back at that photo my mother has now, that’s definitely it. She wants to invite friends and family over for the fourth, but refuses to let me take the picture down, and it’s really upsetting.
As I just told a friend, I may not have access to therapy, hormones, surgery, or any of the stuff I’ll need, but right now I have my hair. And it means a whole fucking lot to me. This is my only show of the hell I’ve gone through recognizing and learning to understand myself. I don’t care if you liked it better before. Do not take this away from me.