repost-this-image:

anonbeadraws:

 a personal comic about haircuts and being queer and not realising your body isn’t really yours until you buy a pair of hair clippers
 That’s my experience anyway

✨(commission info)(kofi)✨

Transcription:

My hair was long until I was 21, and it never belonged to me.

It was a nuisance, quickly tied up, tidied away.

It seemed to belong to everyone else, my mother, my lover, my friends.

They loved it. Strangers loved it too.

Drunken men, telling me; how pretty it’d look on a pillow,

How they’d like to pull on it,

And I tied it tighter.

I sliced a bob into it at 22.

A spur-of-the-moment decision preempted by months of worry.

And when it was gone…

I couldn’t stop.

I bought scissors, hairdressing ones.

I gave myself the power, to wield the scissors myself.

I kept surprising people, “how could I cut off such lovely locks?”

I needed a change, I said.

I bought clippers this year.

They’re HEAVY, and the metal shines, and the colored clips tell me how much I take away.

I run my fingers through it, barely enough to hold onto.

It wouldn’t look pretty to those men anymore,

And isn’t that a relief?

And it feels like, the more I take away, the longer my stride, the stronger my voice, and it feels right.

And it feels like I belong to ME.