I poked my head into the office to greet my friend and said, “I see you changed your hair. It looks nice.”
She said, “David, you impress me. Guys don’t usually notice changes in a woman’s hair.”
I shrugged and thought for a moment, then said, “I guess with my background, I learned to pay attention and comment. It helps establish rapport.”
Now that I have time to reflect, I have a more significant reason I pay attention to hair: A sudden change in style can indicate that a person is struggling.
I remember a woman who suddenly hacked off most of her long hair, leaving it ragged and unattractive. I found out she was dealing with memories of molestation that had been triggered recently, and part of her response was to change her appearance, starting with her hair.
I look back on teens in my churches who changed their hairstyles radically, and I now realize some of them, including my own children, were struggling with gender dysphoria.
One day, at a funeral, I spoke to a little girl who was the daughter of the deceased woman. I took a moment to tell her she looked nice in her pretty new dress and short hairstyle. I thought she would have been pleased, but instead, she looked embarrassed, and the rest of the family became tense and uncomfortable.
An aunt cleared her throat and said, “Uh, that’s not a hairstyle. She pulls her hair out when she’s upset.”
I nodded and kept my face neutral.
“Oh, I see,” I said. “Do you know people do all kinds of things when they feel bad? I have friends who bite their nails. I crack my knuckles when I’m tense. And many folks actually get sick, if you can believe that.”
I was trying to normalize the situation for her, and let her know she was not alone. She relaxed, and the family did, too.
When it was time for me to leave, she hugged me around the legs and wouldn’t let go. I reached down to pat her on the back, and we stood there for a long moment.
Images of people come to me now. After all these years, when I look at them in my mind, I remember their hair, and I’m affected by what I see. Some hairstyles were a celebration. Others were a sign of anguish. Still others were statements of rebellion, perhaps mixed with loneliness. It makes me cry that I didn’t see it before now, and I’m frustrated that I’m bound by the linear nature of time that prevents me from going back to tell them I noticed.
Deep Calls 