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“It’s been a long long time coming.
But I know a change gonna come.
Oh, yes it will.” - Sam Cooke
I don’t think it had settled in. I woke up that morning and went to go buy a couple of beanies. I decided that I wasn’t going to shave all my hair off, but I’d go for the brush cut. It seemed to just a scrape above the most radical.
Mpho sat on the barber's chair first. The barber started the machine; she immediately screamed. The barber laughed. He was very patient. I thought that he would become irritated, but he never did. He even encouraged that we take our time.
I watched as more and more hair came off, and the immense bravery of it all. And then, it was all off. She looked beautiful.
I sat on the barber chair. It was my turn now.
I told the barber, "‘I’ll start with a brush cut. If I don’t like it, then I’ll go bald as well.”
I hadn’t come here expecting to go bald, but I had been so encouraged by Mpho’s bravery, it became a consideration.
He buzzed away, cutting away at my dead hair.
Mpho started to film. She vocalised her doubts about whether other people would like her new haircut.
‘As long as you like it,’ the barber said. ‘You can’t keep on waiting for other people to like it. That’s like giving someone else the paintbrush to your painting.”
Mpho later reminded me that I had prayed for a good and patient barber, and that God had supplied.
‘I want it shorter’, I said.
“Okay, let’s try a 1’ .
He shaved my hair again, until it was super short, giving me the brush cut I had initially wanted.
‘Shorter,' I said.
‘Are you sure?’ he asked.
‘Yes,” I said, quite unsure.
‘Are you sure sure?’
It was a difficult decision, and I consider myself a really indecisive person. But right then, I took the risk.
‘Yes’
‘Okay. 0,’ he said, indicating to Mpho that I would also be going bald.
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It’s done. I’m walking around the mall, more confidently than I had thought. Still, I’m avoiding mirrors to avoid coping with the reality that I’m C O M P L E T E L Y BALD.
How did it feel?
Cold. Very cold.
I was surprised by a few things, how sensitive my head was to the weather.
When there was a slight breeze, I could feel it. If it was hot, I felt the extent of the heat. If it was super cold, my head felt cold. I described my head as a thermometer.
I put my hand on my head constantly, feeling my smooth head.
Would I do it again? Probably not.
Do I regret it? Absolutely not.
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