Hairstory/Herstory
4 is when I remember
Being blonde, and sweet.
Fairy Ellen living in a daydream.
8 when my hair started to darken
And curl
As I reached womanhood
When I first knew what it was like
To feel ugly.
13, straightening my shining coils
In the hall mirror
So I wouldn't look so different,
So unlike the beauty standard.
15 when my boyfriend ran up to me
And said
"Now your hair is short
There is nothing special about you anymore."
That one still bites.
17 when I got depressed
Cut it all off, wore hats and shirts
Flattened my breasts
And wondered
If I would be happier as a boy.
I threw myself into work making coffee
And lifting the spirits of strangers
My first spiritual role.
19 when my hair was henna red and I was in love and awkwardly beautiful for a time.
20, the year of bleach and exploration
And the year my husband laughed at me
And said there was a phrase
In Polish that meant
"Smelly dreadlock"
23 when I cut it all off after having my new baby
And cried and cried and cried.
I went all the colours of the rainbow
Trying to find myself.
I eventually succeeded.
26 when he shaved my hair
So close to the skin
I looked like a prisoner
It was an act of violence.
27 when I did nothing and let my hair
Knot together like I'd always wanted
The year people told me that white women
Couldn't have dreadlocks
At the same time people shouted at my brother
In the street
“Jew.”
27 when I combed my hair out crying
In the refuge mirror at the thought
That I still carried anything from him
On my body.
28 when he said
"You're de-armouring for me."
He was mistaken.
I am a master of disguise.
29 when I made myself the most beautiful crown
For my final victory.
When my hair tickled him on the nose
And in sleep
It held his scent
It's final act of beauty.
It was my cloak of protection
To help crack open my vulnerability.
30, I survived, now stripped back and
Hopeful.
No hair
My worst nightmare before
I knew what real nightmares are made of.
Learning not to annihilate old versions
Of myself
For I am still them.
New as baby bird feathers
New as the dawn and the heart that is brave enough
To start again.
