“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!”
“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.