Confession

I'm a fraud.

For all this talk about getting people to change their idea of what "beautiful" looks like, I have been living in conformity to the very standards I have lambasted in this blog.

Before you rush to my defense, let me assure you--this post is not a self-indictment. This blog is about seeing ourselves and our world differently, and I recently realized I have not seen myself honestly.

I have lately defined myself as an advocate for a new kind of beauty, but--ironically--I actually do everything in my power to fit the old mold.

You'll notice, for example, the lack of photographs in which I appear bald. (That will change very soon...stay tuned!)

More subtly, my style preferences over the last year have reflected my need to look like the faces on magazine covers, even given my lack of luscious locks. I compensate by wearing long scarves that hang down my back and can drape over my shoulder. I pull the front of the scarf down low enough on my forehead that I appear to have bangs. I have recently discovered a new way of tying my scarves so that one end wraps around the tail, creating the illusion of a ponytail. I wear long earrings that dangle and swish. I even have liners to wear under my scarves to give them more volume, as if there were hair under there.

Essentially, I create the illusion of long hair even while I decry the unfair societal standards of beauty that place more value on long hair for women.

I can't help it. I feel more feminine, more attractive and, consequently, more confident when I have something framing my face and falling elegantly down my back. This is my confession.

Is that okay? Is it possible to continue with this illusion and still maintain the integrity of my message?

I am living in the tension between cultural values and inner satisfaction. One directly influences the other, and yet they can be independent with a lot of effort and retraining.

I'm not ready to go around bald all the time. Nor do I feel the need to give up my beautiful scarves. They are, after all, not hair. And therefore unique. But I do feel that I need to spend more time intentionally noticing and naming the beauty of my face when it is unframed. For instance, I may note the graceful curves of my profile, or the way my lack of hair draws attention to my soulful eyes.

Yes...there can be poetry without hair.

In the meantime, I appreciate that I have found a way to feel pretty. Don't judge.

And, in turn, I won't either.