I’m trying to grow out my hair. The reason I bring this up is because I got an email last week asking me if I had thoughts about femmes and hair, and I responded that “DO I EVER.” Well, that’s not exactly what I said, but something to that effect. I have thoughts about femmes and hair especially now because I’m in the middle of trying to grow mine out. I say “trying” because I am at the point right now where I’m on the verge of tearing it all out because it’s pissing me off so much. (Awkward in-between stage much?)
So, femmes and hair. The best angle I can really appropriately come at this from is that of my own experience and relationship to my hair, obviously, so I’ll start there. I used to have long hair. And now my hair is short. I had straight, long, light brown hair that went halfway down my back. Someone told me once that he didn’t think he’d ever seen me wear my hair the same way twice, and though that is definitely NOT true, I was able to do a lot of different things with it. I wore ponytails, obviously, when I was feeling particularly casual. “Princess ponytails” (as my mother dubbed “half ponytails”) were for when I was feeling particularly feminine or girlish. I would also wear braids, or half-ponytail braids, or pigtail braids, or French braids, or messy buns, or what’s that thing called where you turn your ponytail inside out? Yeah, that. Often I would just wear my hair completely down, blow-dry it… I had a habit of twirling a strand of hair around my finger when I was bored.
When I was 20, I cut my hair short. Pixie short. Largely, this was part of my coming-out process. It was a signal that I wanted to be taken seriously by the queer community at my women’s college, that I wasn’t a LUG. (That is a whole sociological can of worms right there.) As I’ve written before, I understood that being taken seriously as gay necessitated toning down femininity and taking on androgyny or masculinity. (What I didn’t understand was that having a pixie haircut did NOT automatically make me androgynous or masculine!) It turned out that I *loved* the short hair. It framed my face better, made my eyes more prominent (I already have pretty prominent eyes as it is), was super easy to take care of, and looked flirty and fun. Once I passed safely to the other side of my masculandrogynous stage, I totally embraced my pixie hair as femme. Not in an “I’m femme… but I have short hair” way, but in a “hell YEAH I’m femme and I have short hair!” way. No “buts.”
And, yeah, I definitely think that’s put more of a burden of proof on me, in a way. In a community that has so much protection around labels (another whole sociological can of worms that I’m not going to open right now), there have been plenty of occasions I’ve felt weird about my short hair, have felt that I can’t actually be femme with short hair, and that I’m co-opting someone else’s identity by claiming I’m a femme with short hair. (White) femininity and long hair are closely linked in a biconditional relationship in our culture — if you’re a white woman with long hair, you’re perceived to be feminine, and if you’re going to be perceived as feminine, you need to have long hair. It’s a closed loop. But of course, there are so many exceptions to this. Winona Ryder, Natalie Portman, Keira Knightley, and now Emma Watson are all white female celebrities who totally pull off the short hair but still feminine thing.
And yet. Female celebrities cutting off their hair is generally perceived by society-at-large (and forgive the sweeping generalizations) as a bold step away from docile girlishness and toward the re-defining of the self as a “strong woman.” When I Googled “emma watson cuts her hair,” the underlying themes in news articles and blog posts linked in the search results seemed to me to be shock and trepidation: words like edgy, boyish (though I think she looks *far* from boyish), and drastic, and questions posed to the audience like “what do YOU think about Emma’s new look?” underline the notion that white women cutting their hair short is “making a statement” that people can agree or disagree with. Comments to those blog posts and news articles tend to go in one of two directions: either people support the “bold move” and take a “rock on, girl” pro-girl-power stance, OR they think it looks horrible and wax nostalgic about her long hair, regretting the move away from traditional femininity. Long hair, then, can be read as a symbol of traditional white , while short hair is a symbolic move towards liberation. (Emma even calls it “liberating” and “incredible” herself.)
Obviously, Emma is straight (or at least, she has a boyfriend and has never made any statements to the contrary), as are the other celebrities I mentioned. So how do femmes fit into this? I think white femmes who typically pass as straight (which is probably most of us) probably are perceived similarly to straight white women in terms of our hair: long hair is more traditionally feminine, while short hair is a distancing from traditional femininity. Since gayness is also a distancing from traditional femininity, at least in terms of dominant definitions of femininity (which define it in oppositional and exclusive relation to man/masculinity), it makes sense that cutting one’s hair short is a move many women make when trying to find a place in the queer realm. On the other hand, many femmes participate in actively re-defining femininity as un-relative to men and masculinity, partly just by virtue of not being sexual partners of men, and partly by their intentionality in regards to their gender presentation. In that sense, a white femme having long hair, I think, uses a traditional marker of white femininity in a non-traditional way, thus also “queering” the discourse around traditional white femininity. (I think I’m talking in circles now.) A white femme having short hair is still probably read most often as being non-traditionally feminine (if read as feminine at all by hetero-dominance — I think there are many folks in my life, for example, who take ONLY my hair as being signifying of my gender presentation, and assume that just by virtue of having short hair I *can’t* be feminine) and, because even queers are typically socialized by hetero-dominance until a certain point in their young/adult lives, white femmes with short hair might not be taken seriously as feminine by fellow queers, either.
All of this a round-about way of saying: I have short hair. I’m femme. Even if you don’t perceive me as femme (especially when I’m wearing jeans and chucks and no make-up), I’m still femme. Short-haired femmes and long-haired femmes alike are re-defining femininity in our own images, distancing ourselves from a male-defined and male-owned femininity. [Aside: this isn't to say straight women can't participate or aren't participating in re-defining femininity in their own image too. Of course they can and are. I do think, though, that it's probably gotta be a more intentional thing for straight women.] AND, my growing out my hair right now has nothing to do with changing my orientation towards or relationship with my femme-ininity. The reason that I am growing out my hair is that I no longer have an income, and so I can’t afford haircuts. That’s it. The end! Though I think it will be very interesting to see how my understanding of my queer identity and my position in queerness and in community changes, both internally and in terms of external perceptions, as a result of growing longer hair.
In other news, our date on Sunday evening was perfect. We went for a walk up to Corona Heights, got winded, sat on a bench overlooking the entire east side of the city and felt appropriately invigorated. We ended up deciding to eat out (graduate student budget notwithstanding) and that was an excellent decision because it was so nice not to have to wash up dishes and whatnot. Plus, we got cocktails and fondue — you can’t argue with that! And then, just as planned, we camped out on the living room floor with our featherbed and lots of pillows and blankets and watched old movies on our projector. And then we fucked. It was awesome. It also really subdued my rising anxiety about not having time for and with each other. I feel a whole lot better. This week has been very busy, too, and not without its moments of frustration and anxiety and stress between us, but my anxiety is no longer consuming me in quite the same way it was before.
[9/20/10 Edit: I was thinking some more about this this weekend and realized that I needed to clarify that I'm talking about white femininity and its queering so I went back through and added "white" where necessary. As a white woman, that's the world I have the most thorough understanding of, and I don't feel comfortable making sweeping statements about discourses around femininity in WOC and POC communities. That's actually a topic I'm interested in delving into in graduate school -- but that's another post...]
I love you. I loved reading this. I love your brain, the end.
+1 to Essin’ Em’s comment
+1 for mentioning Emma Watson *cough*HPinNovember*ahem*
Did you know this post is a 1,469 word essay? Seems like you’re revving up for a thesis!
If you really want to keep your hair short, you could try to cut it yourself or with the help of your gf? Youtube videographers who cut their own hair say it gets easier with time.
I’ve always felt pressured by society to have long hair, otherwise I look male even with a ponytail. Now, I don’t care for society’s labels and prefer to be neutral, but I’ll counter society as an androgynous lesbian! Step one will be a shorter haircut…
For when you feel anxious, here’s a virtual hug (or two high fives. Or a massage?): \o/
I’ve been thinking about this recently myself. I cut my long hair short before I came out as queer, and kept it that way for a few years because it just looked better. But not long after I started coming out as femme, I started growing out my hair in order to have more options with how to wear it for my wedding. Now I kind of want to cut it again, partly because I like the little edge that short hair gives me. But I also worry because I’ve gotten used to negotiating my (aesthetic) femininity in the context of having longer hair. It’s partly a battle of visibility for me, because while I’ll probably usually be read as straight even with short hair, I like that shorter hair reads as a little queerer (even if it shouldn’t have to); but I’m still not secure in my femme identity, and I’ll admit I’m afraid I won’t feel as femme or read as femme without long hair. For now it’s a moot point, because I’m on a no-haircuts budget, too, and I’m not comfortable doing anything drastic at home.
I completely empathize and agree with this post. I’m a butch with long hair. It’s sometimes really hard to be recognized for who you choose to identify as when you look as if you go against gender norms. Like a femme with short hair “isn’t really a femme”, a butch with long hair is some sort of failed attempt at a butch, and really just wants to be femme.
Honestly, I’ve done the short hair, and I just looked like shit. I can’t pull off the look. There’s no big political reason or anything for keeping my hair the way I do, but most lesbians tend to think there is. They’re always like “what, are you trying to make a statement or something?” I’ve never been mistaken for a boy. Or a boi. But I’m mistaken for a femme all the time. It used to really bother me, but now I’m coming to accept that the mainstream lesbian community (at least on this campus) does not hold a place for everyone, and I can’t really expect to be a part of it.
@RadDyke I love long-haired butches (probably because I fondly remember one particularly sexy one I used to know) but think they are much rarer and read as more complexly gendered than the short-haired femme.
@alphafemme I certainly get that long hair is the apotheosis of femme/femininity for many white women, but in general I don’t think short hair is generally perceived of as queer/edgy/unfeminine as you suggest here. It *can* be, of course, but I don’t think it usually is these days. My 2 cents.
On another note, can we talk about how much better Jackie Warner used to look with her short haircut? ;)
Good luck growing out your hair!
xo
SF
i second essin em’. now i’m having deep thoughts about hair.
i decided i wanted short hair the year i came out of the closet. i remember feeling expected to cut my hair, like it was a rite of passage, and i wanted to cut my hair to liberate myself from traditional femininity. i too am growing my hair long this year for a more cat power-esque look, and it makes me wonder if everyone will dismiss me as straight on a superficial level….
my observation is you can change the length of your hair, but you can’t change your basic energy.
I think the concept of hair presentation is so interesting. Sometimes it’s something done out of convenience or preference is read as such a statement. I remember cutting my ridiculously thick hair shorter just so it was easier to maintain. But later, after I came out, my brother said, “Ohhh, so THAT’S why you cut your hair.” Of course now, I like having it short for all kinds of reasons.
And for what it’s worth: I dated a woman for a while who had the most beautiful, lazy curls. She decided to cut them off, and I’ll admit to being nervous. But she went super short, and I thought she looked incredible! If anything, I thought she radiated an even stronger feminine energy after the cut. So to this butch, femininity isn’t related to hair length.
Oh, and your date sounds like exactly the kind of day you needed.
Fantastic post, as always. I’ve had really long hair for so many years and I don’t have the nerve to cut cut it. I flirt with the idea all the time though. Wow, do I admire femmes with short hair – so sexy and strong.
The growing out stage is rough but the cool part is that you get to try so many hairstyles along the way.
This is a great post.
When I first came out I had long hair, mid-back long. I had the idea that I would be more recognized with shorter hair so I cut it to just above my shoulders and then a month later decided that wasn’t enough. I went back and cut it in that awful A-line that is spiky-short in the back and jaw-length in the front. At the time, it screamed lesbian, or so I thought because I associated short hair with lesbians. As I became more comfortable with myself and my femme-ininity, I started to grow it out a bit. I’ve kept the A-line but it’s much longer than it was a few years ago.
It amazes me how much one’s hair plays into our perception of them. I met a long-haired butch just the other day and it threw me for a loop. But I liked that she has held true to herself and not cut it just because society somewhat expects that of her.
Ahhh, I love hair! Ha.
Great post, thank you! I cut my hair off almost as soon as I quit ballet, almost 2 years before I came out but I already knew I was going to have to. I am by nature a femme but I still wish sometimes that I could look “gayer” with short hair. Ah well.