A few weeks ago, I shaved my head. Actually, I had a friend do it for me while I sat in a chair in her dining room. She tried to do it tentatively in stages, but I insisted, "No. Shave it all off." And so she did. I went home that night, irrevocably bald.
I did it for a lot of reasons. One of these is The Daily Iowan. The most influential column I ever read was written about four years ago by a beautiful bald woman. She wrote that every woman should shave her head at least once in her life, just to see what it is like. I never forgot that advice, and finally got the gumption to try it myself, four years later.
Things that prevented me from doing it sooner: the vehemence with which various lovers decried the idea, a presentation at a conference, serving on various university committees, a fear that my head would be shaped funny. But eventually I decided to take the risk of a bumpy scalp and societal disapproval, mostly because I wanted to see what it would look like.
One of the most interesting things about shaving my head is being the recipient of a variety of unsolicited comments from people whom I do and do not know. It seems appearance, whether it is considered attractive, acceptable or repulsive, merits public reaction. I began to understand why I had been so tentative about doing it. It was no longer my private hair, but everybody's public scalp about which they could comment at will.
The body's appearance is simultaneously private and public; It is both our own and everybody else's. There is no such thing as making such a drastic change in appearance merely "for oneself." There is no such thing as unobtrusively shaving one's head. Other people's reactions are part of the experience. Everybody gets involved in what we look like. I am sure this is true for all kinds of appearances, but I had never known the public gaze to be so vocal as when I shaved my head.
Here are a few choice entries from my running tab of comments I get about my scalp:
From two women, both of whom are quite a bit older than me, at the swimming pool: "You need to get some boobs now so they won't think you're a boy," and "You're smart. I'd never do it, but I admire you."
From my guitar teacher: "You could be a rock star."
From my rabbi: "You wanted to take a load off your feet?"
From a potential employer: "I'm not sure I like it ..."
From a groovy teenager in the Pedestrian Mall: "I like your hair!"
From a bald guy I don't know: "Great haircut!" Me: "You, too!"
And, in the tasteless and inappropriate category: "I have to ask, is that a statement or some kind of chemotherapy?"
A fair number of young women have said I am "brave." Being voluntarily bald does not seem like it should require bravery. A good pair of electric clippers and a steady hand, surely, but not bravery. Bravery normally refers to slaying lions or protesting injustices, not to shaving one's head.
But I know what they mean. In a society in which women are still judged by their conformity to "feminine" standards and appearance is an important reflection of this conformity, a woman removing the hair on her head blatantly defies this social norm. Does it take bravery for a woman to experiment with an "unfeminine" (read: bald) appearance? In our society, it unfortunately does.
But maybe I am not as brave as they think I am. I noticed when I became bald that I wanted to wear more dresses, skirts and earrings than I ever had before. I bought makeup. I paid even more attention to my appearance and spent more time in front of the mirror. Did I like the way I looked in dresses, or was I "apologizing" to society for removing my hair by compensating in other areas? Is a bald woman with lipstick brave?
But I did not shave off my curls to be "brave." I did it for fun and to see what it looked like. And maybe that's why I am trying these other things, too. Playing with appearance and with gender assumptions can be fun, perhaps because it takes people aback.
Being bald is a very interesting sociological experiment. It has taught me that bodies, whether or not we want them to be, are public commodities that elicit public commentary.
Date: 7/12/96