I often compare past images of my hair to my current locks and notice changes in its length, colour and style. I reflect on all the hands that have shaped my mane and its journey, how I am perceived through how I choose to wear my hair, and the impact it has on my autonomy.
In the last three years, my hair has had many lives—a myriad of unorthodox colours (blue being the most boisterous) and different lengths. Each cautious trim or pleasant growth spurt has brought with it contrasting textures, my latest experiment endowing me with a head full of curly, beach blonde hair, complete with bangs.
For a while now, I’ve been using my tresses to navigate my internal sentiments. As a Sufiwoman, covering my hair helped me feel spiritually protected; growing it out allowed me to find warmth and safety in my femininity; and colouring it guided me in unlearning the cultural expectations I had internalised as a Bangladeshi woman.
Anything open to unlocking, alignment and renewal is awake, including our body. I view my hair as a spiritual opportunity. Like my inner dimension that is ever-evolving and ever-shifting, my hair is powerfully susceptible to transformation. If I am curious, I must dream, explore and play without entitlement to certainty. This motto shapes my ability to surrender to the uncertainty of outward modifications.
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