The Lark: Vol 1, Issue 11, March 2022 Special Edition

Hair

By Nancy Weiss-Fried

Last week someone in my memoir writing class wrote about an experience she had concerning a haircut she had had when young. That got me thinking about hair and my experiences and thoughts about hair.

I think all girls and women have stories about hair and haircuts and styles, more so than men. Maybe because we have so many more choices.

My first memory about hair style was when I was about 6 and decided to cut my hair. I took the scissors and cut the hair above my ears on both sides and straight back. That was the first time my mother took me to a professional to get it “fixed”. hair and my brother.

Mostly, when I was in grammar school my mother braided my hair. She was very good at braiding and did my hair in French braids. I hated them. And all the adults complemented my mother’s ability to do such a good job braiding. As I got older and could do my own hair, that was the end of the braids.

My mother gave me home permanents but they were always a disaster. My hair came out in frizzes instead of nice curls. Later, when I had it done in hair salons, their permanents also came out frizzy on me. I finally gave up on ever having permanents—but I think the last time I had one was when I was in my 20’s. There was always the hope that one would come out perfect instead of too tight.

My mother had the perfect hair—naturally wavy. She would wash her hair and then with her finger would push her hair up into little into waves. I inherited my father’s hair—naturally straight. My sister, Karen, inherited my mother’s hair and my brother, Eddy, got very curly hair from I don’t know where.

In the 1950’s, when I was in high school, there were many different hair styles popular. The poodle cut (short and curly) was one. It was also the beginning of the bouffant, the pixie, and longer hair with curls cascading down. Long hair was usually shoulder length. Because of so many choices I remember teaching myself how to do pin curls, then how to put my hair up in rollers. Sleeping on pin curls is easy—the agony of rollers was very real. What we girls did for beauty.

But looking back I am glad I learned to do these things; I don’t think many women today can do their own hair in pin curls or rollers. I don’t do it often but occasionally I need to put in a roller or pin curl or two and I can do it.

When I was in college, my freshman year, Donna asked me to cut her hair. That was something I had never done, but she said she had naturally curly hair (actually naturally wavy) and I couldn’t ruin it, so I started cutting her hair. What she wanted was essentially all her hair cut to the same length and the curls would take care of the rest. I cut her hair for 1½ years, while we were at Oxy (Occidental College) together, before she transferred to Barnard and I went to UCLA.

In the spring of my sophomore year, one of the freshmen girls in my dorm asked me to cut her hair. She wanted essentially what Donna had but she had long hair at the time. I tried to dissuade her but she kept asking me to do it. Finally I said OK. That night about 10 women crowded into my dorm room to watch. Oxy was really the last of my short-lived hair cutting career, except for cutting my children’s hair years later.

One of the dangers of being a parent is the unintentional consequences from our well-meaning efforts of trying to be a good parent. Both my daughter and son have very curly, fine hair. To keep them looking neat, I gave them both short hair cuts. My daughter hated her short hair and once in high school has refused to ever have her hair cut again. Her hair grows to about mid-back before it breaks, which limits the length. I am waiting for the day when she will be willing to have it styled.

My son let his hair grow during his senior year but once in college got it cut into the conservative style he has had ever since. Actually, my stepson also had long, curly hair when he was a senior in high school. Maybe that was a boy’s rite of passage during those days (there is a 20-year spread in their ages).

I also have a lot of issues about other people’s hair. One problem with long hair (both on the back of the head and on the front) is that people don’t seem to be able to keep their hands off and/or out of it. I am hard of hearing and have needed to partially lip read to understand people for years. Men with mustaches or beards will often pet their facial hair making lip reading even more difficult than just the difficulty the facial hair gives to lip reading.

And women with long hair spend inordinate amounts of time playing with their hair—running their fingers through the hair, putting it up and then taking it down, putting strands in their mouths, taking it out of their mouths, and continuing, like a song with different verses and repeating choruses. One time I had to move my seat in church because the woman in front of me wouldn’t stop playing with her hair. It bothered me so much and I couldn’t stop watching because she was between me and the front of the church. Then I thought about what my brother told me. It isn’t whatever is bothering me that is the problem, it’s the fact that I let it bother me. So then, I am mad at the woman with her hands in her hair and my brother.