I've gone to the "Dark Side"

Wow, it feels like it's been forever since my last post! If anybody's been wondering where I've been (anybody?), I can sum it up in one word: school.

I've been extremely - no, that's not dramatic enough - death-defyingly busy for the past few weeks. I've been putting in between 8 and 11 hours at school everyday to accommodate clubs and study sessions, I've got AP exams coming up in less time than my brain wants to admit, and I've been running around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to pull things together for a charity event my school is hosting on May 27th. Can't you just hear the sad violins in the background? I don't want to be a downer, but . . .

BEING A TEENAGER IS HARD!

We're constantly moving in a million directions, we never get any sleep, we're exhausted and stressed out all the time, and on top of all that we have to deal with stupid acne and urges to beat the crap out of anybody who looks at us funny (you know, because we're so tired). Is it just me, or should kids get some type of compensation for having it so rough? A paid-by-the-hour type of thing would be nice, but heck, I'd settle for a simple bowling trophy. (If any congressmen or women happen to be reading this, take that into consideration.)

Anyway, you're probably wondering what this "Dark Side" business is all about - and if you weren't, you are now!

Well, friends, I have indeed gone to the Dark Side . . . of the hair dye aisle!

That's right, I'm no longer a blonde, but a brunette. After a tragic accident last Thursday, I had no choice but to go darker for the first time in my entire life. Long story short? I tried dyeing my bleached-blonde hair another light color, but it turned gray with red roots! And if that wasn't bad enough, I had to speak at an assembly the next day; I would've had to get up in front of almost a thousand kids looking as if I'd aged forty years overnight (a tad over-dramatic, but you get my point)! 

Luckily my mom has dyed her hair too many times to count, so she knew exactly what she was doing when she made a late-night trip to Walgreens and picked up a darker dye. Thus disaster (in a petty scope) was averted.

Now if I've any ability to read minds whatsoever, you're probably thinking "Why is she talking about this? Dyeing hair ain't no biggie." But in my monotonous, homework-filled life, you better believe this is big news (sad, ain't it?). The fact is, I've had blonde hair ever since I made my grand entrance into this world over seventeen years ago. I've always been The Blonde Girl in class, and I've always had a hidden sense of satisfaction over busting negative "dumb blonde" stereotypes. In a way, I feel like blonde hair was, and maybe still is, a part of who I am.

See? I've been a cool blonde chick since Day 1 *laughs*

But even though this transformation is strange, I think it'll be good for me. I'll take it as a new adventure, a new beginning . . . And that is the last time you'll hear about my hair until I dye it some other color and go on another nostalgic rampage!



I guess I just wanted to check in, prove that I haven't completely fallen off the face of the earth, and let everybody know that even though I've been really busy, I've still got some good posts planned for the future! Check 'em out!

What to Look Forward To (Upcoming Posts):

1. A spotlight on a unique band called Girls in Trouble in which "Brooklyn poet and multi-instrumentalist Alicia Jo Rabins mines dark stories of Biblical women, exploring the hidden places where their complicated lives overlap with her own." (I also hope to get an interview with Alicia!)
2. A closer look at a decision that might put female Air Force pilots at risk.
3. An interview with Alexa (author of Blossoming Badass), a teen who's new to the feminist blogosphere!

Drawing Strength From Going Against the "Beauty Grain"

Man, I'm exhausted. My inner-feminist got a good workout this week (even if I didn’t).

First it was watching an incredibly stereotypical episode of Disaster Date (see Cram another feminist stereotype in there, why don't you?), then it was listening to a bitter Youtubian trying to tell me why "women have it so easy in life," and then kindly reminding him why that wasn’t necessarily true. And now, go figure, a Facebook comment has got my vigilante juices flowing.

You see, I was making my usual rounds on Facebook (scrolling down the homepage to see if anything juicy was going on) when I noticed one of my classmates talking about possibly getting her hair cut. Now don't get me wrong, her hair is absolutely gorgeous - long, shiny, and black, the kind wig-makers would kill for - but I'm a huge fan of short cuts (no pun intended). Naturally, I chimed in with a good pat on the back and “atta girl,” but it wasn’t long before a couple of boys jumped in and disagreed, saying short hair most certainly wouldn’t be cute.

Miffed, I asked: "What's wrong with short hair?"

Nothing, apparently. Except the girl in question "wouldn't look as cute" with it.

"Well, it's not your decision to make!” . . . is what I would’ve said, if I weren’t such a civil person. (Facebook is no place for a fight. Back alleys are so much better . . .)

But seriously, this isn't a stand-alone case. Whenever a girl talks about getting her hair cut on Facebook (yeah, teens have too much time on their hands), it's always girls who show support, and guys who seem to have massive coronaries. I know it's a biological fact that men are attracted to women with long hair (you know, because it signifies "youth" and "fertility," stuff 16-year-olds really care about), but it's the 21st century for cryin' out loud! If we want to get our hair cut short - or do anything that contradicts outdated standards of beauty - what's stopping us?

In fact (and yes, this is going to sound really cheesy), I'm starting to realize the power one can draw from going against the grain. The beauty grain, that is.


For starters, my hair is short. Not a big deal, right? But you're talking to a girl who only had about three trips to Super Cuts in her entire childhood, and who had waist-length hair until the 10th grade. But I've never felt more alive since adopting a short do, and I couldn't care less what type of hair boys prefer. Because short hair - that I can tease mercilessly, that hardly needs brushing, and that creates the most awesome bed-head ever - makes me feel light, free, confident, and fierce.


Something else I've taken for granted until recently is natural beauty. I’ve always seen it in others, but when it comes to myself I’ve always felt the need to hide my imperfections (especially at school) with healthy doses of foundation and mascara. I can even remember the one time I didn't wear makeup to school (because I was so gosh-darned tired), and I ended up feeling self-conscious all day. It sucked big time.


But these days, seeing as I can’t get my license for another six months and my parents both work, I’ve been stuck at home all summer. In other words: no makeup.

Have you ever really looked at yourself in the mirror? I mean really looked?


Astrid Alaud posed a similar question when she asked if we’ve ever actually “tasted” a carrot. Not just ate it, but tasted it. She suggested that “we can’t taste the beauty and energy of the earth in a Twinkie,” and similarly, I think there’s no better time to marvel at the beauty of humanity as when we’re completely "natural."


I know (now) that when I look in the mirror it doesn’t matter whether my eyelashes are long and luscious or straight and stubby, if my complexion is perfectly tanned or perfectly pink, or if my blemishes are covered or just there. It really doesn’t matter. But when I take a minute to actually study myself, feel my face in my hands, or jack it up into an uninhibited smile, I see a girl who’s funny, and dorky, and smart, and corny, and above all passionate about a lot of things. And that’s when I think I know . . . scratch that, that's when I know what magazines are missing these days. Not just me, but us. The real us.


All I’m saying is: don’t let other people tell you how to live your life. Don’t shy away from getting your hair cut (or try to grow it out!) just because you think boys will like it, and don’t wear makeup because that’s what girls are “supposed” to do. Glam yourself up as much (or as little) as you want because it makes you happy, because it makes you confident, and because it makes you want to take on the world. Look in the mirror - really look - and be proud to see what you see.


Despite what Dallas Cowboy cheerleader and/or Hollister employee recruiters would have you believe, there is no single definition of “beauty.” So let's make up our own rules, okay?