Earlier this year, I dyed my hair neon green, just like that. After four months, it’s time to say goodbye. We’ve had a good run, and it turns out that dying your hair a highlighter shade actually teaches you a couple of things. To end an era, here are some of my musings on those green haired life lessons.

When I decided to bleach and dye my hair neon green four months ago, it was on a whim. That’s how most of my hair stories go: I get a crazy idea, I can’t get it out of my head, I have to execute it as soon as possible. That’s basically what happened to the green. It’s funny: I am an overthinker pur sang, but when it comes to my hair, there’s not a lot of thinking involved. One particular thought *did* cross my mind, though. As I was seeing my green haired head in the mirror for the first time, one of the first things I said was “Well, guess I better get ready for a couple of months without sex!”.

I said it jokingly but, as always with jokes, there was a ground of truth in there.

Here’s the deal: I was right. Well, partly. It wasn’t that I got no action whatsoever throughout the four months of me looking radioactive, but, to be frank, I got considerably less action than I had when I had ‘normal’ brown hair.

Wearing my queerness on my head

I don’t want to make this about my sex life. Having green hair influenced my entire personal life, not only the part spent between sheets. You see, I quickly realised that the neon green do was a way to wear my queerness on my sleeve, well, head. And people respond to that, whether you like it or not. In the past, I could easily ‘butch it up’ if I wanted to. Present more traditionally attractive. Take off my pearls when I wanted, wear a more neutral shirt for my dating profile pictures.  Shocker: my long, neon green hair wasn’t something I could take off on the way to a first date. And that’s what I realised in that moment of seeing myself in the mirror for the first time. With this hair, there was no way of hiding myself.

Over these past years, I have been teaching myself to dress for me, to wear what I want because I want it, and make me happy with the way I look, not others. I dyed my hair because I wanted to, and I needed to remind myself of that. Yes, my hair would make me stand out more than I ever had. No, not everyone would love it. But it’s here, and you love it, and that’s what counts. In that sense, my hair reminded me of an everlasting cliché; you must love yourself first before you can love anyone else.

Neon green forcefield

Soon enough, I started seeing the beauty and strength in my personal neon light. Living out loud each day gave me a sense of calm I never knew I had, and a freedom I had never before experienced. With my hair already fluorescent, there was no point in trying to fit in, so I did the opposite. I wore the outfits I wanted, extravagant or not, I wasn’t bothered with what other people thought, couldn’t care less. I truly started living my best life, and people started to notice.  Yeah, some men probably ignored my dating app messages because of my hair. I realised, though, that instead of cursing my decision to get neon locks, I should thank it. Thanks to that decision, people who in the long run wouldn’t have been cool with who I am, stayed out of my life.

My hair was a neon green forcefield, designed to keep out toxic masculinity, internalized homophobia and superficiality. What a fucking superpower.

I was finally out here doing me unapologetically, bringing out my full potential, not living for anyone else but me. Not to be dramatic, but the green hair changed my life and the way I think about myself. Once I became aware of that, I knew it was time to do something else. Change shit up. So. Here I am. Keep your eyes peeled for Things My Mullet Taught Me. JK. The only thing that’s teaching me is that I am one step closer to becoming Ezra Miller.


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