Hair has always been important to me. I remember being a little girl and leaving my mother’s side to grab the hand of a beautiful woman solely because I loved her fiery red hair. Growing up, it amazed me how everyone’s hair was so different; a plethora of textures and colors. I saw the women around me changing their hairstyles frequently, and noticed the instant change of how they looked or felt because of a different hair length, shape or color. Hair provides women with a sense of comfort and confidence. Knowing that this directly applied to me puts me in shock when I think about how I chopped all my curls off.
I was so attached to my hair. In my early childhood, my mother instilled in me a sense of pride in the twist and density of my locks. Even when I began to style my hair on my own and was granted creative freedom with it, I was against coloring, bleaching or processing my hair in any way. I managed to stay away from heat for months at a time and did a ton of DIY hair masks and treatments. With my hair, I always played it safe and I was completely fine with that.
It wasn’t until college when life started to hit me hard that I stripped my hair of its purity. They say when a woman changes her hair, she’s going through a personal transformation and that I was. From being depressed, constantly ill and on my own for the first time in my life; I didn’t know how to express myself and craved something new and positive to balance what I saw as a negative change in my life. I decided to dye my hair red, just like the woman who’s hand I had grabbed hold of when I was younger, and I loved it! I felt brand new and unafraid, just as fiery as my hair was. Each time I went back to my stylist for a touch-up, my hair became a different shade. I had plum-red, red-orange, burgundy and every one of them was so cute! After two years and three haircuts later, a confident, happy and newly single woman emerged. I decided the red phase of my life was over and I felt a need to be authentic Arielle again. Back to black, it was!
Little did I know I would get the most devastating news of my life a month later. A family member very close to me was diagnosed with cancer. I felt as though all the effort I put in to create a better, happier version of me went down the drain as I plummeted into yet another dark place. It was then when I decided to do something that I never thought I would. To show support for my loved one during such a trying time as well as an attempt to release my pain from the situation, I chopped all my hair off. It was a truly freeing experience. I could no longer hide behind my curls. It was a metaphor for the challenges my family and I would have to now face; there was no running or hiding from them, we had to band together and attack this illness head-on!
It’s now nine months later and although my loved one is still fighting this terrible illness, my family (and my hair) is stronger than ever! Every day, I look in the mirror and I am reminded of why I got rid of the hair that I cherished and held onto my entire life. Once a very vain and materialistic attachment, I now feel connected to my hair in terms of strength, support and love; a transformation I will forever value.
All photos courtesy of Arielle Lawson.
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