Soundtrack – NYC Transit
Seven years ago I left.
I drove him to the Johnstown Mega Bus station and handed him a debit card loaded with a whopping eight dollars – the time had finally come. For five months I shamefully put his comfort over my safety, creating space for him to be a terror in my conscious and subconscious mind. Let me tell you this though, when I pulled off I didn’t blink once nor check the rear view mirror.
Have you ever listened to the replay of grief composed by your broken heart? My body was a hollow chamber echoing the defect of my crooked upbringing. Weeping in anguish and sorrow I could feel in the pit of my pelvis; there’s nothing like heartache. When I got home all 185 lbs. of me sunk into a queen sized luxury bed I was almost done financing. I slept and wept for what felt like a millennia but the truth is my alarm clock went off at 5am reminding me that work was on the agenda. For two months, I wore sunglasses to work, never revealing my eyes and keeping my head down. Lord knows I needed the job because I was down to $95, overdue expenses, credit card debt, and medical bills were piling up. Then my first blessing came, a mass layoff accompanied with a six month severance. It was such a relief for two reasons:
- I didn’t like the job.
- I was beat. (pun intended)
After much needed rest and tears I started a journey of bringing my spirit closer to God. My dad always said, ‘cleanliness is next to godliness.’ For years I’d been wanting a change in my diet and lifestyle, so I joined the gym and changed my eating habits. Although my mind became clear and my body was getting lean and strong my heart still wept. Four months and two major eye procedures later, I hadn’t even glanced in a mirror. I wasn’t ready but I knew it was time to take it all in.
When I finally got the courage to face my reflection, the only thing I knew to do was clean. I lived in a city with a declining population of 19,700 old, white, and bigoted neighbors. The closet stores were Sheetz and Dairy Queen. Gratefully, my two story townhouse wasn’t filled to the brim with new furniture and worthless knick-knacks because I didn’t have the fortitude to deep dive into mindless clutter. Peeling myself off the bed, I straightened my back and let out a sigh. On that day decided I was in control of my life for what felt like the first time.
Blasting music reinforced the mood for cleaning, but it did nothing to drown out the thoughts swirling my mind. Time to hit the bathroom. Muscle memory rewarded me on this day to get through cleaning the tube and toilet with ease. It was as if my mind was light years ahead of my body because time practically slowed down when I got to the sink. Like the grime just didn’t want to come off. Out of frustration I huffed and turned to the mirror. There I was, staring back at me.
My skin was soft and clear yet dull, the expression on my face was pure exhaustion filled with deep sorrow and anguish. Some sort of fungus was taking over my scalp. It was itchy, flaky, and my hair was matted down. I looked and felt disheveled! An intense feeling started to boil inside of me – excitement, rage… insanity. I felt like Britney Spears in ‘07; I grabbed the first pair of scissors I could find and instantly started cutting my hair. Grabbing clumps of hair, putting the scissors as close to the root as possible and snip, snip, snip. There was a rush of satisfaction running through my veins as I scissored away. Once finished, I had hair in the sink and a smug look on my face. Without thinking, I grab a cap and run to the nearest Sally’s. I walked into Sally’s with tiny shorts that showed the bottom of my booty cheeks and a flimsy tank top with no bra on, I searched the aisles for clippers, but I was unsuccessful. As I approached my car I stole a glimpse of my reflection – oh yeah, I looked wacky.
I returned home to change my clothes and googled the nearest Black barber shop. The shop was in a neighborhood that felt familiar. Like there was a small group of black and brown families I probably could have made friends with. The shop sat on a corner in a pastel colored building whose paint was chipping. When the door opened everyone’s attention turned to me me. An expression of confusion raced across everyone’s face. Could it have been my fit petite body on a young lady they’ve never seen before? I sat in the chair of the second barber and took my hat off. He gently placed both his hands on my shoulders, looked me square in the eyes through the mirror and clearly asked, “Are you okay?” At that moment all the men in the shop patiently awaited my answer. “Yeah, I’m good. I just tried to cut my hair with a pair of scissors. That’s why it’s patchy.” The entire shop went into an uproar in laughter.
The first breeze wrapped my bald head like a soft blanket and in that moment I knew everything was going to be okay. Sure, nothing would be the same, but that’s exactly what I needed. To become a completely different woman. I was closer to God. I was free.
Shaving my hair gave me permission to be acknowledged. I hid behind sunglasses for nearly 11 months, seeing the world through a tinted lens. Removing the hair and sunglasses was the first step of many and I thought I was walking into a new city with a new career and life of freedom and happiness.
“Nah.” – Harriet Tubman
One year later, I voyaged to Tulsa, Oklahoma with one checked bag and a duffle, every inch filled with my ruins. Freedom wasn’t mine yet. My eyes were bound by thick gray clouds that casted a tint never escaping my vision. I swear there was no sunshine for the first two and a half years. I distinctly remember the day I noticed a bright day with clear blue skies – I saw myself in the mirror; glowing with natural beauty. At this point I understood myself objectively while simultaneously honoring my rights to dignify, nurture, and express my feelings. And so I started my loc journey; a commitment to patience and love.
P.S.
In order to show up in the world as your truest self you must be revealed. I was so insecure about being visually impaired that I hid behind my hair since I was a child. I needed to let my hair go to experience my beauty, remove vain insecurity, and rise to my potential.
