**WARNING: Vulnerable post ahead, proceed with caution**
4 months ago, at the end of Macedonia, I shaved my head. And let me tell you, it was, and still is to this day, the most freeing experience I’ve ever had. At the time, I knew that people would be confused, and many (mostly children) would probably comment on it. I was right.
[Macedonia : November]
I just didn’t expect it to hurt this much.
See, 4 months ago, God began taking me down a journey of discovering that my hair is NOT what makes me a woman. We don’t need picture perfect, absolutely gorgeous, long & luscious locks to make us feel feminine. Our hair is not what defines us. And just because I’ve shaved it off, doesn’t make me any less a woman.
Zambia blessed me. Short, buzzed or shaved hair could be found on boys & girls alike. As a result, no one questioned it and I was accepted immediately. In fact, I even found the courage to sport a hairdo I once deemed “guys only”. I loved my hair and rocked it proudly.
[Zambia : January]
Then came Botswana. Children began cornering me asking “boy or girl?” and when I’d reply girl they’d stare at me in disbelief and then run off laughing with their friends. 30 seconds later I’d have a new group of kids asking, simply because they didn’t believe it when their friends told them I was a girl. This would continue for at least 30 minutes, each and every single day. Needless to say, I broke out the long skirts and dangling earrings and wore them 24/7. (And may or may not have started hiding out in groups with my friends to try and discourage the children from asking me my gender).
By Namibia, I was determined that the world would see me as a girl. And thankfully, the church we served with had no shortage of fabulous, strong women with short hair. They rocked their hairdos and (without realizing it) gave me a much needed confidence boost. But that didn’t stop me from dressing as feminine as my tiny wardrobe would allow, wearing the most girly earrings I owned and donning mascara as often as I could remember. Despite all of my attempts, it did nothing to stop the stares from children and teens as I walked down the street, sat in a coffee shop, waited outside the church, etc. And the moment we entered the bush, I was once again asked “boy or girl?”.
Enter Malaysia, where 1/2 the people I met are Muslim (and consequently have their heads covered) and the other 1/2 are Indian and have plenty of long beautiful hair. From the moment I stepped off the plane in KL I noticed the stares. Adults & children alike stared at me: confused, disgusted, annoyed, I saw it all. Children in the kindergarten shied away from me, the boys I worked with stared at me in confusion and asked me daily if I was a boy like them.
My confidence was failing. Dresses & skirts became even more common. I started dreaming my hair had grown several inches overnight, and frequently found myself staring at pictures of my once long & curly hair. I was done with this whole charade, couldn’t I just go back to having beautiful long hair and call it good? Nope.
[Malaysia : March]
Now we’re in Thailand. We’ve been here 1 week, and I’ve already been asked 8 times by the same 3 kids if I’m a boy or a girl. They’ve asked why my hair is short. They’ve asked why I don’t have any hair. They’ve asked why I look like a boy & why would I *want* to look like a boy. All the while I just want to scream back “I’M NOT A BOY!”. But instead, sweet calm Molly rises up and responds “I wanted short hair”. At least when adults ask I can explain that God told me to, but with these children — it’s just harder.
With the race coming to an end, I’m beginning to dread going home. Not because I’ll be away from my race community, or because this season is ending; but rather, I’m afraid the world won’t see me as a woman. Unfortunately we live in a world where society gets to decide what makes a woman (i.e. long beautiful hair), and we’ve taught that to our children. And honestly, it shouldn’t even matter what the rest of the world thinks of me.
But it does. Their words hurt. And sometimes, leaning on what God says about me is hard.
Despite it all, I know that God is growing me. He’s teaching me that the only opinion that matters, is his. And while I wish he could have taught me this truth without it being this challenging, I do believe that this is probably the most effective method. The fact that I was able to shave my head to begin with, is proof enough of the growth & freedom that God has already brought into my life.
Hopefully, by the end of these last 2.5 months, I’ll be able to return to America walking in full freedom.
But until then, please feel free to shower me with positive comments, even if it’s not about my hair. Lord knows I need them.
-Mols
P.S Thank you so much to everyone who has been donating, I am so grateful for all of you! Only $200 until I’m fully funded! Praise God!
