On hair and gender…

“Can you cut my hair when we’re at Nana and Grandad’s?” Jeremy asked.

“Umm… yes,” I replied. I was a bit startled seeing as I’d cut their hair just over a week earlier. “How short?”

I was hoping they didn’t want too fancy a cut. I have no hair dressing skills. I can barely manage a simple braid and bang trimming. Well, hair dressers don’t seem to think I can manage bangs but my kids have never complained.

“Buzz cut,” Jeremy said happily. “You can use Grandad’s clippers.”

This was obviously going to be harder for me than them. I’d spent years fighting against so many people for their right to wear their hair the way they wanted, which was long (and usually dyed). Now suddenly they wanted it short (and undyed). But part of their right to bodily autonomy meant short hair as well as long.

“Okay,” I replied, hoping my reluctance didn’t show. If it did, Jeremy didn’t seem to notice.

I put on the #7 clipper first and soon the lawn was covered in clumps of hair. The cut looked good on them. Long enough to be feminine while short enough to be masculine.

“It looks good,” Jeremy agreed, looking at my camera phone (seriously, who needs a mirror anymore). “I’d like it shorter though.”

Shorter? Sigh. I pulled out the #5 clipper and began cutting again. Their hair became decidedly shorter. Soon I was done. The ears weren’t perfect but, if they wanted professional, they’d have taken my parents’ offer of a real hair stylist instead of me.

“Do you think he’s are feeling more like a boy again?” my Mom asked hopefully as soon as Jeremy hopped into the shower.

I thought back to the evening before. We’d been watching an anime Jeremy wanted me to see (Gurren Lagann if anyone out there’s interested) and they were excited about an upcoming character.

“Look,” they’d said, pointing at a bluish character. “They’re both a boy and a girl. They’re non-binary, just like me!”

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“No,” I replied honestly but as gently as I could. “I think they just wanted short hair.”

I wandered into the family room a short time later, where Jeremy was sitting with their cousins… all playing on separate devices.

“Mom, this hair cut makes me feel more feminine,” Jeremy said happily.

And why shouldn’t it. Hair is just that. It’s not gender. It’s not even a secondary sex characteristic. It’s simply a head covering (and in my case a ‘blowing across my face’ covering).

The next night Jeremy informed me, once again, that they don’t think gender exists… that it’s just something society made up.

“Are you sure you’re pangender?” I asked. “Do you think you might be agender instead?”

Jeremy thought for a moment. “I think you’re right,” they replied.

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Jeremy and their cat Lara. They’re not male or female… just perfectly themself.

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Jeremy’s long hair…

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I can’t get over how long Jeremy’s hair is getting, especially since it was barely shoulder length on New Year’s Day. It’s also getting straggly on the ends and needs a trim. My woefully bad hairdressing skills are not up to the task.

I need to talk to the hairdresser down the street and see if she can a) handle the eczema he’s currently dealing with (Emma got sent away from one chain hair cutting place in tears when they claimed her scaly patches were lice) and b) if she’s willing to cut his hair in a girl’s style without any sabotage or negative comments. I’ll even fork over the extra $2 for the girl’s cut.

This is just one of the pictures I’ve shared on Twitter; there have been others. Also, you can see his new water bottle in the top left corner of the photo.

p.s. I know the desk looks horrible but it’s Jeremy’s desk. I’ll need to clean it up soon though because he’s lost one of his keys on it.

Jeremy’s hair…

I’ve been wanting to do a scrapbooking layout of Jeremy’s hair, featuring all the different colours he’s gone through over the past half year. This latest shade of purple is a different hue than the last and I figured I should get a shot of it while it’s still fresh.

Jeremy was underwhelmed by the thought of leaving his Minecraft game but went outside willingly. He walked a few steps ahead of me then stopped, still facing away from the camera.

“Umm, Jeremy, you need to face me,” I pointed out as I tugged on his shoulder.

He turned around, looking disappointed. “It’s not for the blog?” he asked.

“Sure, I’ll do a shot for the blog too,” I assured him.

So here it is, a photo of Jeremy’s purple hair. He’s holding one of our cats (the one he’s taught how to give hugs).

Jeremy's purple hair

When are you going to cut it?

I dyed Jeremy’s hair on Friday. We were aiming for dark purple but the jars of Manic Panic were on the wrong shelves. I didn’t realize until after I got home and had bleach in his hair that “After Midnight” was blue and not purple. It doesn’t look much “After Midnight” either but he likes it and that’s all that counts.

I was in the middle of painting the dye onto his hair when Jeremy commented that his teachers keep asking him when he’s going to get a haircut. This is not new. Every single time he grows his hair long there’s a chorus of people asking when he’s going to get it cut. Last year, his teachers actually brought in a hair stylist then asked classmates to tell him how much better he’d look with short hair. He got his hair cut really short then immediately started growing it back out. And now they’re at it again.

Meanwhile I’m trying to figure out what the hell business it is of theirs what length hair he has. If they like short hair, they know where the hairdressers are and can get their own hair cut as short as they want. I told him to tell people he’ll get it trimmed once his hair’s down to his waist.

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