Red Hair
Hair. Something we all have to some extent, whether it's on our head or somewhere else. I'll be focusing on the ones on my head on this post.
The name ''Red'' obviously comes from the color of my hair. Well, not just that, but it definitely started that way. It has become the color of my very essence. Red is the color of passion and fierceness, in my opinion at least. And I have found myself with more passions than I can count.
''Hair is a woman's crown''. That's a sentence I took to heart in my youth. I wanted to grow my hair long and beautiful, so I could make all kinds of do's on it. I died it red when I was 12 years old. It started off as a mild copper-hue, but sooner or later it became full on bright red. And I loved it.
When I turned 15, I was having trouble fitting in. Everyone else had ''normal'' hair, so I made my own so as well. I died it brown with blonde highlights. I also cut it. For a while I felt content with how it looked, and how it made me fit in. But it made me feel less special, less like me. The brown color almost felt like it stifled my inner flame and creativity. And it was so very short. Less maintenance, yes. But very short. So I grew it out, and one fateful day I died it red again, when I was 18 maybe. And it stuck, probably for good that time.
I guess Red has always been my name, whether I knew of it or not. I grew to look at my hair as a trademark, a representation of me as a person.
I don't know if you have noticed, but in most of my pictures my hair is open. I feel most confident with my hair down, to frame the face I used to be ashamed of. I felt like
my face was better with parts concealed. It was subconscious, I now realize.
I cut my hair recently, again. This time, however, not for the sake of fitting in. Not for the sake of it being low maintenance either. I cut it because it felt like the time. My hair has seen a lot, and it started to show. I was so desperately clenching onto this image I had, what I wanted to look like, that I refused to see how awful my hair looked closely. It was worn down, dry, no shine. Just like my old perception of myself.
So I cut it again. I thought I would feel sad or regret for cutting it, but I didn't. That caused relief. I know it's going to grow back stronger and prettier, but right now, the change I need shows in my hair, as it always has. I encourage anyone to make radical changes with their hair, because for me, it's a way to find myself again. Even if sometimes I lose who I am in the midst of trying to be what people expect from me.
I no longer need my hair tolook feel beautiful.
(The last picture is the work of the one and only Anna Pyhäjärvi, one of the many people who have made me see the beauty within my looks and imagination.)
The name ''Red'' obviously comes from the color of my hair. Well, not just that, but it definitely started that way. It has become the color of my very essence. Red is the color of passion and fierceness, in my opinion at least. And I have found myself with more passions than I can count.
''Hair is a woman's crown''. That's a sentence I took to heart in my youth. I wanted to grow my hair long and beautiful, so I could make all kinds of do's on it. I died it red when I was 12 years old. It started off as a mild copper-hue, but sooner or later it became full on bright red. And I loved it.
When I turned 15, I was having trouble fitting in. Everyone else had ''normal'' hair, so I made my own so as well. I died it brown with blonde highlights. I also cut it. For a while I felt content with how it looked, and how it made me fit in. But it made me feel less special, less like me. The brown color almost felt like it stifled my inner flame and creativity. And it was so very short. Less maintenance, yes. But very short. So I grew it out, and one fateful day I died it red again, when I was 18 maybe. And it stuck, probably for good that time.I guess Red has always been my name, whether I knew of it or not. I grew to look at my hair as a trademark, a representation of me as a person.
I don't know if you have noticed, but in most of my pictures my hair is open. I feel most confident with my hair down, to frame the face I used to be ashamed of. I felt like
my face was better with parts concealed. It was subconscious, I now realize.
I cut my hair recently, again. This time, however, not for the sake of fitting in. Not for the sake of it being low maintenance either. I cut it because it felt like the time. My hair has seen a lot, and it started to show. I was so desperately clenching onto this image I had, what I wanted to look like, that I refused to see how awful my hair looked closely. It was worn down, dry, no shine. Just like my old perception of myself.
So I cut it again. I thought I would feel sad or regret for cutting it, but I didn't. That caused relief. I know it's going to grow back stronger and prettier, but right now, the change I need shows in my hair, as it always has. I encourage anyone to make radical changes with their hair, because for me, it's a way to find myself again. Even if sometimes I lose who I am in the midst of trying to be what people expect from me.I no longer need my hair to
(The last picture is the work of the one and only Anna Pyhäjärvi, one of the many people who have made me see the beauty within my looks and imagination.)
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