Whoa. I feel like I’ve been knocked off my feet. All of that released with one little act of rebellion against the culture that defines what a woman is and is not. Beautiful, just beautiful, and strong, like a butterfly with wings of leather.
What an extraordinary essay!! So much resonated with me, drew me in. This: "Over and over, I said thank you for something that hadn’t happened yet. In desperate confusion, I kept saying thank you." This is something I have felt myself, in moments of chaos and grief -- reaching for gratitude like a lifeline, faking it in the anguished hope of making it.
The older I get, the more I understand just how illusory that sense of control, of stability, has always been; the more comfortable I get with being unmoored, with un-grasping what I perceive as anchors; and I feel all of that in this piece. Thank you, Joy! (And I *love* the beautiful silver hair, in all lengths.)
This is so beautifully made. I kept returning to the pivot at "do you even want to be married," in order to examine how you kept tightening the focus on destruction, rebuilding, power. Not hair color, not really. (The art of all good essays, the situation, the story...) I want to teach this essay, Joy (and will credit @Oldster, too.) As always, thank you for your art.
This is a *wonderful* piece. I also always had dark hair that was thick and shiny and often complimented. When silver appeared at my temples in my late twenties I began coloring my hair, though my now-ex said I'd look beautiful gray, and my mom and two sisters never colored their hair. I colored it as an obligation I only recently have begun to understand. I grew it out without the buzz cut, and it often looked strange in its two-tone stages, but I now have platinum hair I love. During the grow-out, despite not being a joiner, I joined a FB group called the Gray Book. I was surprised to find mostly women in their 20s-50s agonizing over cruel comments made to them by family members, friends, and strangers about their gray. A common criticism was, "You are too young to have gray hair,", which was an obviously amusingly incorrect remark based on the evidence. That group changed the way I look at gray hair. It now seems to me to be another hair color, not a sign of age. The less we color our hair to fit someone else's idea of beauty, the more natural gray will be as just another color. It's been four months since my last haircut, my bangs have disappeared, but I feel happy about my hair, and I feel pretty, or as happy and pretty as the present complexities of my life allow. My hair color is now often forgotten and beside the point.
I gasped aloud when I read that you burned your journals. And as an act of rebellion against the task of hearth-keeping... well, for that I salute your bravery. Thank you.
Thank you for this exciting and exhilarating journey of a read, I love it
Your animal furred head, your kali-esque destructive impulse, your meditative gratitude, the fiery and visually stimulating images arising from your story and the comments it has generated - makes joining Substack recently such a new and rewarding adventure
'Do you even want to be married?' - what a powerful question with an even more truth revealing answer. Thank you for this very moving essay. I'll keep my own silver locks for a little longer!
Whoa. I feel like I’ve been knocked off my feet. All of that released with one little act of rebellion against the culture that defines what a woman is and is not. Beautiful, just beautiful, and strong, like a butterfly with wings of leather.
Destruction and flames and for me, elephants who even though untethered, did not believe they could break free. Thank you for this brave voice.
What an extraordinary essay!! So much resonated with me, drew me in. This: "Over and over, I said thank you for something that hadn’t happened yet. In desperate confusion, I kept saying thank you." This is something I have felt myself, in moments of chaos and grief -- reaching for gratitude like a lifeline, faking it in the anguished hope of making it.
The older I get, the more I understand just how illusory that sense of control, of stability, has always been; the more comfortable I get with being unmoored, with un-grasping what I perceive as anchors; and I feel all of that in this piece. Thank you, Joy! (And I *love* the beautiful silver hair, in all lengths.)
This is so beautifully made. I kept returning to the pivot at "do you even want to be married," in order to examine how you kept tightening the focus on destruction, rebuilding, power. Not hair color, not really. (The art of all good essays, the situation, the story...) I want to teach this essay, Joy (and will credit @Oldster, too.) As always, thank you for your art.
Wow - thank you. Finally women are learning to let go of being “nice” and living their adventure. Brava!
Beautiful! All of it--the hair, the words, the story, the authenticity! Thanks for sharing your experience.
I loved this.
This is a *wonderful* piece. I also always had dark hair that was thick and shiny and often complimented. When silver appeared at my temples in my late twenties I began coloring my hair, though my now-ex said I'd look beautiful gray, and my mom and two sisters never colored their hair. I colored it as an obligation I only recently have begun to understand. I grew it out without the buzz cut, and it often looked strange in its two-tone stages, but I now have platinum hair I love. During the grow-out, despite not being a joiner, I joined a FB group called the Gray Book. I was surprised to find mostly women in their 20s-50s agonizing over cruel comments made to them by family members, friends, and strangers about their gray. A common criticism was, "You are too young to have gray hair,", which was an obviously amusingly incorrect remark based on the evidence. That group changed the way I look at gray hair. It now seems to me to be another hair color, not a sign of age. The less we color our hair to fit someone else's idea of beauty, the more natural gray will be as just another color. It's been four months since my last haircut, my bangs have disappeared, but I feel happy about my hair, and I feel pretty, or as happy and pretty as the present complexities of my life allow. My hair color is now often forgotten and beside the point.
I gasped aloud when I read that you burned your journals. And as an act of rebellion against the task of hearth-keeping... well, for that I salute your bravery. Thank you.
Thank you for this exciting and exhilarating journey of a read, I love it
Your animal furred head, your kali-esque destructive impulse, your meditative gratitude, the fiery and visually stimulating images arising from your story and the comments it has generated - makes joining Substack recently such a new and rewarding adventure
'Do you even want to be married?' - what a powerful question with an even more truth revealing answer. Thank you for this very moving essay. I'll keep my own silver locks for a little longer!
Thank you. I like your writing and plan to read your book.
So well written.
Thank you
Interesting, beautiful story. Brave actions. And no matter what hair length or color, you look fine. Your interior beauty shines through.
This is a beautiful and inspiring piece of writing. Thank you for sharing it.