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MY HAIR
- Joy Krauthammer
On July 26th, I went to the hair beautician, and with Aviva visiting and by my side, Mike cut off a few inches of long, wavy hair from my head that had been growing since Marcel, z'l, died 18 months earlier. For me, cutting my hair off at this time was symbolically a time when I could let go more of what I had been processing during grieving. The release was important for my journey.
I had kept my hair short for decades. Prior to marriage, my wavy dark brown locks had been longer, about the length it had just grown to be now. Long enough to be in a healthy pony tail, and when in braids, long enough that I was mistaken for a Indian princess. (I introduced my tanned self as "Princess Brown Bead" when I was hitch-hiking across a reservation.) My hair was long enough to put it up while swimming; to put it up on top of my head and take it away from my face; to change my look for a special occasion, like performing on stage in New Mexico last month, or visiting dear old friends in New York the month before.
In December 1988, I had my hair 'permed' into curls, for the first and most likely, last time in my life. At that time, six months after Marcel's z'l, twice done brain surgery, I needed a drastic change-- something to feel, following the terror that I had gone through with my husband for the prior six months, as he survived surgeries, being on life support, comatose for a few months, and then cancer treatments.
I needed to shake free of what had been, to seriously transition over to something else. That was before I was receiving Aliyahs at Torah, or taking Mikvehs for spiritual purifications, actions that I do now. Drinking was not my ‘thing’, so how to transform? Was with MY HAIR, I decided. Hair surely has changed its way of manifesting on my body as I have lived and matured, and ‘aged.’
I wanted a ritual to cut my hair, since growing my hair longer than I ever do, had been my ritual. Prior to that it was for decades-- my ritual to cut it short. It was from the time of loss and mourning that I let it grow. A time to separate out on my own body, differences in my life. I had also lost weight and that was a sign of health. My hair had grown a lot of grey from stress, and aging. I was proud of the grey as a sign of sage-ing, of wisdom. I wanted the grey to show and not to dye it as others had freely suggested to me.
My end of 18 months of mourning ritual became for me, time to have my hair cut (and for my big birthday). Although I had imagined for my celebration, an adult female Upshernish, no other friends were invited to participate in this ritual with me, and my beautician and my visiting daughter. I finally gave away the barbie type of doll with long hair I had purchased for my Simcha, so that friends could first practice on her hair.
2007
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