I Don't Give a F***, you wanna know why....
It all started in 2010, in some random hotel in Baltimore, Maryland, when I sized myself up in the
good enough––good enough to be someone's woman, good enough to be my parent’s child, or even good enough to be great enough. Nothing didn't make sense to me at the age of 20, and I was doing what I said I was going to do: I’d moved out of my parent’s house, had my own apartment in my name, went to school, had a car, a good job, was dating, partying… but something just wasn't right and I couldn't figure it out. Like most people, I ignored it and I definitely didn't share it with friends; I didn't think they would even care enough to listen to my thoughts. I have always been the non-verbal one who showed little to no emotion––you wouldn't be able to figure out what I was going through if I were to tell you anything.
So I turned on my clippers with no idea on how to buzz-cut hair or what guard to use: I just wanted to set myself free, free from confusion, free from perspective, free from my habits. I just needed to set myself free from all the cares and expectations I had. Staring myself in the eyes with clippers in my hand was making me hesitate so I closed my eyes, flipping the switch on my clippers, and listening to the buzzing noise. I took one deep breath, opened my eyes and my right hand, which held the clippers, rose toward the back of my head
I remember the first time I walked around with this new look of mine. I carried a "I don't give a f**k " attitude, because I truly didn't anymore. Facing the challenge of wearing no hair as a woman was probably one of my biggest challenges I had to test. Why was this challenge particularly significant? Because being brought into this world as a woman, and being taught “hair” is the essence of a woman's beauty, or that hair symbolizes “feminine” was starting to be bullshit to my beliefs; I saw differently. But that wasn’t the only thing I saw differently as I traveled the world in my twenties, but that hotel room is where and when it began. The stares that use to break me down, the whispers that filled my ears with bullsh*t, they all seemed to evaporate out of my life because I was focused on working on me and knowing what makes me happy.
It wasn't an easy process for me to detach my feelings, and I did seek out professional help, a psychologist and I journaled my behavior and thoughts to try to diffuse the battle I was having with my self-esteem and relationship with others. During this process, I noticed that a lot of things about my behavior stemmed from extended family problems that I had carried into my life, and now that energy was carrying over into everything I was doing, thinking, and being. Being away from home, on my own, with no one watching or caring allowed me make mistakes and regain myself confidently. The day I came out the womb was the start of me being compared to my older sister because our birthdays are on the same day. Throughout my young years, I felt like I had an expectation to meet with, not only my parents but also the extended family, for them to see who I am as an individual. Over the course of years, it became exhausting and frustrating, and I started to get lost in my thoughts and soaked up in my silences, while allowing all that buildup to turn into occasional outbursts. While everyone thought that was just my character, I didn’t want to accept it as my character because I knew I wasn’t like this, especially when I'm around people who know nothing about my background. Once I identified these my habits, I mapped out things and people I needed to steer away from; I worked on and damn..... it was and IS the best feeling to NOT GIVE A F**K about these things. My life let so much weight off, and my drive is inevitable and my thinking pattern is better than I’ve ever had it in my whole entire life. I had all that bullshit sitting in my mind, weighing me down and keeping me from my full potential, and at the age of 29, I am better and happier than ever.
I couldn’t ask for anything better than that time period or phase in my life, and I have to say that it was my most pivotal moment that will keep me grounded. With me going through so many of life's lessons that have strengthened my self-esteem, I feel like no one can tell me otherwise. They weren't there when events were happening, or witnessing my post-behavior after the situation, so why should I feel like they have the right to voice their opinion on my life and what makes me happy. I'm happy because I found a way for me to be comfortable in my own skin, and I'm happy in the direction I am going thus far at the age of 29. Most importantly, I found a way to stay in my lane and not give a fuck! I’ve been bald for 6.5 years, and in the moment I decided to go back to having some hair, I don’t know what it was but it just didn’t feel like it was me. It felt like an extra “thing” to worry about, like the feeling of moving back to your parent's house after being on your own for 9 years.