At the age of four, I made the decision that it was time to get my first haircut. What I chose, was of course none other than a “fuck-ass bob”, or as it is now affectionately called by many, the FAB. By the time I had reached this age, I already had what my mother lovingly referred to as a “mane of Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader hair”. It was long, golden, and full-bodied, waving ever so slightly at its ends. Knowing nothing of the sorts at the barely conscious age that I was, I was somehow emphatic that it was time for a change. Amanda, my stylist, had to cut the upper layer of my hair shorter than the lower layer, in order to manage its puzzling thickness and curious shape. Thus, my fuck-ass bob was born. Instead of wrapping flatly and chicly across the back of my head, like Leslie Bibb’s bob in season 3 of The White Lotus, my bob formed the chaotic shape of a scalene triangle. Although my decision to get this haircut was simple, and based on no rhyme or reason, my defiant four-year-old self was unknowingly participating in her first political act as a young girl — an act revolutionized nearly 90 years before her.
A bob, as I have learned, is not just a haircut. It is symbolic of female liberation, independence, and modernity. Before the 1920s, the prevailing beauty standard at the time was long, well-kept hair that represented femininity and youth. Think Empress Sisi of Austria, with her chestnut-brown tresses, or the mountainous updos of the Gibson Girls, who famously had long curled strands escaping their elaborately piled hair.
The bob waltzed itself into American culture for the first time in 1915, when a dancer named Irene Castle chopped her hair, to help support a convenient recovery after a procedure. At a time when most American women were still prioritizing long, feminine styles, Castle’s cut made waves– not all of them good upon first impression. Some stylists did not want to comply with clients’ requests for a short haircut, deeming it manly and unattractive. But, many women persisted, opting to go to barbershops instead, where their demands would be met.
In addition to Irene Castle, as well as famous actresses of the early 1920s like Mary Thurman and Colleen Moore, flapper girls helped make the bob become what it is today. In countless images of fashionable young women in short, fringed dresses and blingy modernist headbands, there is often one common denominator -– a bob. We think of the flappers as women representative of a “new age”, and of having a daring independence that was not especially present at the time. By bobbing their hair, they were performing against their set social norms, an act of defiance that would soon become a mainstay in female style and culture. A few more famous bob wearers of the time include actresses Clara Bow and Joan Crawford, both of which were renowned for their strong stage presences and roles as early “it girls”.
Other trends of the time, which, although rooted in the same lust for female liberation and ingenuity, did not stay current like the bob did. Whereas painted knees and boyish drop-waist dresses waned in popularity as the 1920s closed and The Great Depression made its way to the forefront of society, the bob stood strong, taking on a new meaning — practicality. In a time of economic scarcity, the hairstyle required little maintenance or money, further cementing its popularity in American culture.
In the following decades, its representation continued to shift, moving from the practicality of the 1930s to the efficiency and neatness required during wartime for women in the 1940s. In the 1950s the bob was curled and elegant, denoting a glamorousness and sense of refinement most idolized in stars like Marilyn Monroe and Grace Kelly. In the 1960s, the bob was boyish again, this time “mod”, representative of a sharp and sleek new age. In the ‘70s it was “pageboy”, in the ‘80s it was feathery and somewhat rebellious, once again. By the ‘90s, it was everything: chic and supermodel-esque, choppy and tousled, flippy, or blunt.
Whichever kind of bob someone may have cut, for whichever reason, a commonality many have experienced (myself included) is a newly termed quality -– that of being “fuckass”. This concept emerged around 2022, after a viral tweet regarding Kat Hernandez, a character from HBO’s hit series Euphoria. The quote, regarding a scene where Kat was trying to deny her involvement in a certain pornographic video that had been circulating around her high school, reads “I hate her. ‘Is it because I’m fat Mr. Hayes?’ No it’s because you the only one with that fuck-ass bob.” After this quote hit the internet, thousands came forward, proudly posting photos of their own FABs, many an endearing photo from childhood, some a result of a botched trip to the salon, and others, simply fuckass, with no provided reason at all.
I think the biggest moral here is that the bob will never die. Through being part of feminist movements, wartime practicality efforts, and even internet memes, the bob has earned its place in our culture -– as a symbol of resilience, new beginnings, and the everlasting power and creativity of women.