in layers: reflecting on my hair timeline
how a series of haircuts became my roadmap to self-discovery
A heatwave hit much of the northeast last week, and good ol’ Ohio didn’t get a pass. As I slid into the scorching interior of my car to meet a friend for coffee, I was thinking about how I’d love to just not have to deal with my blanket of hair. During my drive, as the air conditioning started to do its job, I thought about my hair journey, and what it’s like to be a girl who experiences the dichotomy of wanting to grow their hair out and wanting to cut it all off.
People have told me, “Hair’s not that deep.” But over time, I’ve realized for myself, with each haircut, it was not only a chance to feel refreshed, but also a chance to explore what that change represented in my life.
So here is an exploration of my hair timeline, the memories I associate with each new cut, and the reflections and lessons I learned along the way.
My Hair Timeline & Lessons
Complacency: Birth to 18
I like to call this chapter the time I was asleep within myself. You know when you rewatch movies that you watched as a kid as an adult, and now all the references and jokes make sense? That’s kind of how it is to revisit this period of my life. Which sounds dramatic, but bear with me.
This era of my life was when I went along with whatever. My parents grew my hair out as a child, and when it eventually got to the point where I could make decisions about how I wanted to style my hair, the thought never occurred to me to make any sort of change. I think this was due in part to taking ballet lessons and “needing” my hair to be longer to put it up in a bun. But mostly I think, due in part to the way I was raised and just my personality. I’m someone who’s good at keeping cycles going—even the ones that aren’t good for me. I fall into ruts and stay there a while, especially when they feel safe.
This was a time in my life where I kinda just went along with whatever. And it was just easier to keep up the cycle and avoid making any sort of change. Both because it felt easy, but it also felt safe.
That was, until it felt too uncomfortable NOT to change. The boldest thing I’d done was experiment with pink hair dye (not even committing to a full head of pink, mind you - I wasn’t allowed to do that).
The Year of Contemplating My Identity: 18
Then came along the shoulder-length bob. The elation I felt in cutting quite a substantial bit of my hair off was both freeing and addicting. Between visits to the salon, I kept scolling Pinterest, thinking to myself, “What if I got one more inch cut off?”
As my hair got progressively shorter, the hunger to simply cut it all off grew like a little ravenous beast within me. Literally the day after my 19th birthday (flashback to 2016), I went to the hairdresser and got all my hair chopped off.
This was a scary change for me, for a multitude of reasons. First, I had to deal with the people in my life making my change about themselves. My sister chimed in with how she’d once chopped her hair, regretted it, and hadn’t cut it since. I recall telling my friends that I was going to make a dramatic change with my hair, and instead of responding with enthusiasm and delight as I anticipated, my closest friend provided me with a long list of reasons why I would regret it (I am no longer friends with her). So go past me for ignoring all the selfish people in my life. That’s a firm win.
Secondly, I am a firm believer that hair holds memories. And up until this point in my life, I was coming to terms with the idea that I was living in constant anxiety. So I saw this “big chop” as a way to take control back, actively start to make change, and as an attempt to release myself from all the negativity, pain, and guilt I harbored up until this point.
Lastly, there was this little voice deep, deep within me that I hated to acknowledge but heard ringing through my ears like bells.
That maybe, possibily, I was queer (and in love with my girl best friend - but that’s another story). And that was quite possibly the most terrifying thought to consider.
So, rather than acknowledge that (thank you, internalized homophobia), I did what any spiraling girl does—I got a queer-coded haircut. I told myself it was for the change. To get rid of damaged hair. That I needed a “fresh start”. But what I know now that I wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge then, is how I was able to use this haircut as a safe way to play with how I represented myself, what it meant to feel attraction to other girls, and begin the journey of figuring myself out.
The Pixie Cut Era: 19 - 23
This was one of my favorite eras because even though my haircut fell under the category of “pixie cut”, I experimented with numerous styles. I got angular cuts, longer bangs, and tried out different shaping to frame my face.
I even bleached all my hair blonde, intending to dye it all mint green. But then I loved how it turned out so much that I kept the blonde.
The blonde grew out. So I bleached it all again and went through with the green hair. And I’d never felt more badass in my life than with my green-blue-minty hair.
One time, I got it cut so short you could see my scalp through my hair (and while I was devastated at the time, when I look back at those pictures, I think it was a kick-ass cut).
Fuck, I loved experimenting. It was so thrilling to take steps outside my comfort zone and take action. This period helped me discover what made me feel more and more like myself.
Ultimately, I made these changes for myself. And while that in and of itself was rewarding, I think it’s also fair to acknowledge that, along with this change in appearance, I got to witness people reacting to me. Until then, I’d felt like I was coasting—barely noticed by people in the real world (which has its perks, particularly as a socially anxious person, don’t get me wrong). It felt thrilling to be noticed. To have people commenting, “And who is this stranger?” when they saw me for the first time post-haircut, or to be complimented on my dye job.
Awkward Growth Phase: 23 - 24
When I got accepted to graduate school, I felt the itch for change once more. I knew this time of my life was going to be incredibly stressful, and I didn’t want to have to think about maintaining a pixie cut (also because getting monthly haircuts was not in my budget). Thus began the awkward hair growth phase.
This was fun in and of itself, because I still got to be experimental. I got to feel the joy of “unlocking” new hairstyles as it slowly but surely got longer and longer. Little clear elastics and hair barrettes became my best friends.
I learned about patience - because do you know how long it takes to grow out a pixie cut? A year. Or more. It depends on what you’re going for. I learned that if you want an analogy for healing, hair is a good one. And I learned even more about who “Rose” is. She is flexible. She adapts. And she’s cute—no matter the length of her hair.
…now what?: 24 - present
By 24, my hair had grown long enough to feel like a full-circle moment—I was back where I started, but with a new perspective. This time, I knew I wanted to shape it intentionally. I went for something soft and a little whimsical: first a wolf cut with curtain bangs. (Spoiler alert: the wolf cut was not for me.) But it led me to the butterfly cut—and that felt like slipping into something that had always quietly belonged to me. It didn’t shout for attention, but gently affirmed: this is who I am now.
This chapter isn’t about bold reinventions or dramatic changes. It’s about integration. I’m not trying to prove anything with my hair anymore. I’ve played, rebelled, healed, and redefined. Now, I just get to enjoy it.
Sometimes, I still think about cutting it all off again. In fact, when I’m especially stressed, I’ll give myself a little trim—less out of crisis, more as a reminder: I can. That’s the shift. I’m not chasing transformation through outward appearances anymore. I’ve already done the work.
Right now, I’m in a season of self-trust—letting who I am begin to settle in, and learning to love her as she is. My hair isn’t a question mark anymore. It’s a reflection of everything I’ve grown through.
Let’s chat!
Have you experienced anything similar to what I’ve described? Or is hair kinda just hair? Let me know. :)
Until next time,
