In this op-ed, Jamilah King reflects on the significance of Lena Waithe’s haircut as it relates to gender ideals and homophobia.
Lena Waithe proved once again why she’s one of the most important voices, especially queer voices, in our culture during a red carpet interview with Variety this week. Waithe recently cut off her signature locs in favor of a skin-fade. When asked what prompted this decision, Waithe responded:
“I felt like I was holding onto a piece of femininity that would make the world feel comfortable with who I am. … and I said, “Oh, I gotta put that down, [because] that’s something that is outside of me”…If people call me a butch, or say “she’s stud” or call me “Sir” out in the world, so what? So be it. And I’m here with a Prada suit on, not a stitch of makeup and a haircut; I feel like, why can’t I exist in the world in that way?”
It had been roughly three weeks since the writer, producer, actress and creator of one of TV’s best shows, The Chi, quietly announced the cut to her more than 400,000 followers on Instagram.
In a follow-up, she hinted at the fact that the cut had deeper political significance for her when she posted another selfie titled, “Well…I did it.” This time she was rocking her signature snapback and throwing up a peace sign with the caption, “Gay as fuck.”
In the LGBT community, cutting your hair isn’t just a fashion choice. It’s often also about affirming your gender. It’s about letting the world know who you are, yes, but it’s also about looking at yourself in the mirror and feeling aligned with the person who stares back.
I can relate. I cut my hair off in the summer of 2016 after years of careful prodding by a supportive former partner. As a child, I constantly got messages from society and from my family that my hair was the most attractive thing about me.
Growing up, my hair grew to the middle of my back and was considered “good hair” by my family and the people around me. But I often hated everything about it, especially the tedious routines I had to engage in just to maintain it. I was always tender-headed, sensitive to the pulling, shampooing and blow drying that my mom or older sister would subject me to to get me ready for special occasions. I’d scream and cry but grit my teeth through it.
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