Thoughts on a Genderless Haircut
My hair was getting moppy. Really, it was moppy.
You all know it. I looked desperately for someone - anyone - to cut my hair here. It seemed like my only option was to book an appointment for my well-loved gender neutral salon in New York on my return. But I could not go another day with mes cheveux fous.
I was shocked to find Germany to be so gosh darn binary'd. With so many women here having short haircuts and so many men here looking what we Americans might call "metrosexual," I must say I was surprised when I started getting those German stares.
Yes, I know Germans stare at everyone. However, there seems to be something different about the way I present myself that makes people want to tap their friends on the shoulder and - "Now, don't all look at once!" - all look at once. It's been weird to say the least. Living in 15 minutes out from Manhattan all my life has spoiled me in a lot of ways.
I found my hair-dilemma to be this: I could either get an entirely-too-expensive-because-gendered-pricing-sucks "Mom" haircut at a women's salon, or I could find myself in a dangerous situation at a barbershop. I wanted neither.
Eventually, I stumbled over the Facebook page for something called Butch Cut, a queer sustainable community building art project. Now that's more like it!
Here's a little about them...
"Hair is an important medium of erotic communication for queers of all genders. I really enjoy cutting hair, especially masculine retro and urban street styles. I've been cutting my own and my friend's hair for 20+ years. I really enjoy talking to people and creating the style they want. I don't impose haircuts on anyone. I do my best to make the customer feel sexy in their skin and about their hair. I love using electric hair clippers, and I focus on turning the routine of getting a hair cut into a delightful ritual of self-care, that both relaxes and renews energies. I see cutting hair as a form of energy exchange, and I am doing it because I love it. I hope this positive attitude is transferred to and appreciated by the people who ask me to cut their hair.
About me [Hank] : Professionally, I'm a trained curator of contemporary art, I've worked as a community organizer, vegan and non-vegan chef, a boxing trainer for women, and I played in several punk bands."
Wow. I was convinced.
Unfortunately, they were all booked up. Not only that, but Hank, the founder and main artist, was no longer taking any new clients. Damn.
I decided to take a chance and send an email:
"Hello!
My name is Jessie, and I’m a gender non-conforming theater artist. I’d love to be put down on the waitlist for Butch Cuts to trim my short, shaggy locks!
Thank you so much.
Sincerely,
Jessie"
A week later, I was booked. Hank explained later that they made an exception for me because of my quirky email. Score.
I arrived early for my appointment for many reasons:
1. It was pouring outside.
2. The commute was faster than I had anticipated.
3. I was anxious that day because of the morning visit to the Topography of Terror.
The shop was in the mudroom of Hank's first-floor apartment. When I arrived, someone was in the middle of their haircut. They were getting a classic, men's cut with a massive fade. In between brief peeks at pages in a pile of zines, I watched as they transformed. Another person arrived, another transformation. I'll admit it, I cried for them.
My turn. We talked about German Theater and American Theater and Soft Butches and Hard Butches and What-Does-That-Even-Mean and Gender and Presentation and Acting and Casting and Hair and Fluidity and Butch Culture and Respect for Women and Hair and Fear and Trust and Hair and Control and Hair.
Hank even offered me a job there if I ever wanted to come back to Berlin. I said absolutely.
Here's a link to my feature on the Butch Cut instagram if you were interested:
I arrived early for my appointment for many reasons:
1. It was pouring outside.
2. The commute was faster than I had anticipated.
3. I was anxious that day because of the morning visit to the Topography of Terror.
The shop was in the mudroom of Hank's first-floor apartment. When I arrived, someone was in the middle of their haircut. They were getting a classic, men's cut with a massive fade. In between brief peeks at pages in a pile of zines, I watched as they transformed. Another person arrived, another transformation. I'll admit it, I cried for them.
My turn. We talked about German Theater and American Theater and Soft Butches and Hard Butches and What-Does-That-Even-Mean and Gender and Presentation and Acting and Casting and Hair and Fluidity and Butch Culture and Respect for Women and Hair and Fear and Trust and Hair and Control and Hair.
Hank even offered me a job there if I ever wanted to come back to Berlin. I said absolutely.
Here's a link to my feature on the Butch Cut instagram if you were interested:
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