Shaved Locks & Good Looks

When I arrived to the US this time around I was flying in from not only my home country, but from a world of professional dancing. A flashbulb world where my long red hair had been a large commercial selling point for me. Not only that, but I would be commencing a life that I would be shared with another person.

I landed in Florida a little over three months ago now. I moved here to build a new pathway with my fiance, Govian. After a year and a half of being an Atlantic ocean away from each other, we finally came up with a way to create a life that balances both of our passions in the same place.

And now?

We are living in a renovated tour bus on lush green lands nearby to a beautiful beach, training each day to create circus acts to go out in the world and travel with. My days are spent dancing in the air now in various aerial acts. My evenings are spent by firesides, painting and writing, and having real time to create more than I probably ever have. As an artist, I couldn’t ask for more than to spend my hours in this way. 

Oh, and I shaved my head!

The hair? I donated it to a wonderful charity called ‘Locks of Love’ that use donated hair to make wigs for children with cancer. Govian boldly shaved it all it off for me one evening in our tour bus home. As the hair fell away, I physically felt years of weight and history fall away with it. In all honesty, it was one of the most liberating experiences of my life.

The moment that really caught me about the whole experience was the surprising amount of fear that came to me in the moments just before we started the process. My head was filled with the casting directors that might now reject me, or the modelling jobs I may no longer have access to. Most superficially of all, I was worried I would look terrible. I realized in those moments how heavily invested I was in my own appearance.

Thankfully, my ugly duckling fears were lifted away by the gentle encouragement of Govian, who could see past the vanity and the social conditioning I was gripping on to. As I felt the cut away of my long ponytail to be sent on to ‘Locks of Love’, I let go, and listened only to the buzz of the razor as it danced around my skull. 

Since donating, I have been amazed at the love people have shared. Some even going as far as making financial donations to the charity I gave it all to! As for me, I no longer hide behind my hair as I once did. I am exposed, and cannot rely on my long red mane for approval any longer. In all honesty, I've never felt more confident or more feminine. It’s a whole lot easier to get ready, too!

So why are we so hung up on how we look? What lies within us that we feel the need to be any more than we are at any time? What counts as ‘more’, in any case?

Currently, a close dancing friend of mine is frustrated in her audition experiences. Irrespective of her talent, years of training and the steeliest determination I have seen in anyone in a long time, she is often cut from castings because the panels are choosing the ‘model look’ dancer rather than the one who can do the job to a higher standard. My friend is utterly beautiful, no doubt. But the girl with the 6-pack abs is so often the one who gets the job, regardless of her level of skill. To my friend, this is the ultimate frustration of which I can totally understand. Is this the stage we have arrived at now? Do we really value looks over talent to the extent that we would lower the quality of a production for it? Are these the shows we want to pay tickets for?

Yesterday evening as I peeled off my training clothes, I glanced at my own body in the mirror. And so began the routine dance of acceptance, as I twisted and contorted my body this way and that, examining it for changes or new appearances. Ten years ago, I did the very same thing as an insecure teenager; scrutinizing my body for fat or unwanted layers of skin. Ten years on, my eyes look now more for positive change rather than negative. Where as an adolescent I scolded myself for not staying the same, I now embrace my changing body. I don’t have a ‘perfect’ physicality. But it’s a physicality that allows me the flexibility and strength that I need to facilitate the dancing and performing that I love.

My arms are not as ballerina thin as they were when I graduated from dancing college. But they are now strong enough to lift me high into the air on circus apparatus. My thighs are thicker, mostly with hard worked for muscle but admittedly with a little fat also. The very fat that I used to fight against, but now recognize as an integral part of my body make-up. This doesn’t mean that I leap for joy every time I see myself without clothing, or that I don’t see the same flaws we all suffer on occasion. But it does mean I have less interest in bullying myself for those flaws. In short, I don’t want to skip meals to chase bones any longer.

Recently, Mattel released a new line of Barbie dolls that are varying in body shape and skin colour. It’s only taken them 57 years to do it! But well done to them, for finally making such a monumental step forwards in positively re-educating our social media ‘perfection’ soaked head spaces. I absolutely advocate living in a way that brings good health and fitness to our lives and our bodies, to strengthen our days here. But this move from Mattel brilliantly identifies that a healthy body (or even an accepted one) doesn’t have to be a uniform size or shape. Now we’re just waiting on Ken doll to join the reality check in!

Go ahead and have fun with how you look. Don’t be afraid to try out new fabrics, whether they are the ones you decorate your body with, or that are the materials of how you think. Underneath, we are all made up of bones and ideas. Have fun filling out the coverings of each of these bones, and every one of your ideas. You aren’t a Barbie doll after all, and thank goodness! You’re you. That’s more than enough.

Here’s to your physical liberté! Enjoy every moment, muscle and thread of it.

Yours truly,

Helen Victoria.
#liberté #journeytolibertys #freedomblogger