"That Mommy has no hair!"

A woman with a shaved head is rather unusual in most societies. Having had one for many years, I am very aware of the curious looks - some furtive, some very open - and can see, like thought bubbles, the questions flitting through people’s minds as they wonder…”Sick? Skinhead? Crazy?” I can see them trying to reconcile the shaved head with my big smile and rather suburban style. It was the small daughter of a friend of mine who first said what others were thinking. As we were introduced, she stared at me with huge eyes. Backing slowly to her mother, she kept her gaze on me, and in a stage whisper informed those around her, “That mommy has no hair!” At three years old she was able to recognize that I was an anomaly in her world.

I first shaved my head eight years ago. At the time, I’m certain that anyone who knew me felt some degree of shock. Kari? Really?! Throughout my life I had always conformed to every social nicety, at least outwardly. I know that there were many times when I inwardly rebelled against the pressure to look or act a certain way (especially in my teens), but any resistance was quietly and passively executed.  Discreetly rebellious...sounds a wee bit like an oxymoron, but that was me! As I grew older, my layer of bravery grew with me, and it became less frightening to go against the flow. Still, when my husband teased me, daring me to shave my head, I just laughed. Women don’t shave their heads! How ridiculous.

Before; 2009

One day, during the early days of July when my body and teacher brain were beginning to recover from June, my husband again joked about shaving my head. “Ha!” I laughed, as I had always done. But, then something happened. The idea of it had, for some reason, appealed to me even as I scoffed - and I had a sudden realization. The only reason I kept saying no was because I was scared of what people would think! I had been scared, on some level, of public opinion my whole life, and in this moment it became clear to me that this was not how I wanted to live the rest of my life! Shaving my head wasn’t hurting anyone, so why should I care what people think? Why should I be afraid of strangers’ stares? I always had been, and had always resented that fear. It was this recognition of the subtle fear of being different that had ruled my world that finally did it. I hate being afraid of something! And I wasn’t going to be, anymore.

Within the hour, my husband had the clippers out, and my hair was coming off. I’ll tell you, once that first swipe of the clippers is done, there is no turning back!

After! 2009

So, why do I have a shaved head? I’m not sick, though I have no desire to make light of the loss of hair in those who are! Nope...for me, it is a daily reminder that it is okay to be different. It is okay for me to think for myself, to be myself, even if that means going against the crowd. I feel so passionately about the importance of questioning and wondering and critically thinking about the incredible flow of information that bombards us every day. Looking differently gives me the inner strength to think differently, and as a result the world has opened up.

When I shaved my head the first time eight years ago, it was a spur of the moment rebellion against the pressures of fear. I kept it shaved for six years, because I quickly came to realize how freeing it is to have a shaved head - physically and emotionally! Seriously...I spend five minutes a week with the clippers on my hair. Can you imagine how much time that would free up for the average woman?! I also fell in love with the emotional freedom. Before, I would have worried that people were staring at me when I walked in a room, afraid that I looked silly. Now, with a shaved head, I am guaranteed that people are looking and wondering and thinking I look weird. Realizing that is rather liberating.

For a change, I grew my hair back over the last two years. During that time, I learned a lot about how people had perceived me with my shaved head. I realize that it seems obvious that I might appear intimidating or unapproachable, but as I only really see the inside me, it never fully occurred to me that this was how others might feel. You see, the inside me still feels very normal. However, as people rarely tell you how they feel about or perceive you, I had no idea what people really thought or wondered until I started asking questions (once I had hair again). The funny thing is, I love it when people ask about it, and I’m never offended. It’s the wrong hair style for someone who gets offended easily!

This July, I shaved my head again. It’s odd, really, because as soon as I did it I felt like me again. But this time, believe it or not, was far more nerve wracking beforehand than it was the first time. This time, I knew exactly what I was getting into! For the past two years, I’ve been able to walk into a mall, an airport, a school - and no one stared at me. Opening up my shy, introverted self again required me to dig deep. But that’s why I knew it was right! Being strong means meeting the things that scare you head on. I love having a shaved head, so it was worth dusting off my courage.

As a teacher, I recognize that I have the ability to influence many young minds. It is my greatest hope that I might help people to question some of the ideas they have taken for granted. Perhaps - since Mrs. Petzold has a shaved head and she’s nice - perhaps that person over there with tattoos all over his body is nice, too. Maybe that person who has a limp, or is in a wheelchair, or whose face is scarred - maybe they are nice, too, even though they look different or "scary". I remember a childhood friend who shocked us all, in the summer between grade eight and nine, by shaving half her head, dyeing the other half purple (and spiked!), and piercing just about everything. I remember staring at her - this girl I knew well and had gone to parties and sleepovers with - looking so unapproachable and, to my mind, frightening. But she was still the same girl! As soon as she talked, and laughed...she was still my sweet, kind friend! I’ve always remembered that, and think of it whenever I see someone who fits that “scary” description. And now, maybe I can help someone think twice about how they view others. Or think about what they really want to do, but are scared to do.

Wouldn’t it be a beautiful thing, if we could all be ourselves, without fear?!