Why Do We Cut Our Hair After a Life Change?

Biologically, hair occupies a wonderfully strange position on the human body. A single strand of hair that lets you try out hairstyles as strange as they come, is made from dead keratin cells. What this means is we can dramatically detach it from ourselves, but it wouldn't hurt us. But a tattoo digs into you and is a nightmare if you have a fear of needles. The same goes for plastic surgery. A body transformation requires more commitment and probably wouldn't inject the instant dopamine we need.

But hair? 30 minutes and a pair of scissors. And you instantly feel cathartic. A wave of a glass-half-full attitude washes over you. The world feels like your oyster. All due to a measly hair cut. Anthony Synnott, a sociologist, talks about how hair is a powerful social symbol because it is both personal and public. The hair on our head is part of our anatomy, absolutely intimately ours, but the first thing that people see when they look at us.

Lily Egleton, a marketeer described this similarly, too. "I feel like hair is the first thing you notice on someone, even if you notice it subconsciously. The colour of my hair changes the entire initial appearance of me, including the first impression people have of me." It's the notion of changing our own perceptions while being made to perceive differently, all that the same time. Lily mentions, "I've noticed the compliments differ when you're blonde or brunette. While I don't like that people's impressions are defined by appearance ever, but I do enjoy the feeling of kind of being a chameleon." An overpowering undertone is the exertion of a degree of control over being perceived. Courtesy: A hair makeover.

Confirming this is Smruthi Krishnan, a writer - "When everything else is out of my control and its all chaos, atleast my hair is in my control." You extend your arm to grab hold of control and what you're really doing is trying to exert your agency in a time when you feel like you do not have any. So even "the weird haircuts are conscious choices" because they're not happening to you. You chose it. And perhaps this is why hair becomes our weapon of choice during moments of change. We do not just change something we see, but also through which we are seen. Adding on, Lily mentions how hair feels to have inventive powers. "I dyed my hair brunette recently after being bleached blonde for years because I honestly needed to feel like a chapter of my life was

closed. Even photos from that period of time with my bleach blonde hair feel like a "oh but that was BEFORE I was feeling really depressed and low, and now I'm brunette, I'm like a happier, upgraded version of myself." Maybe that's not the healthiest way to think of it, but I do feel that dyeing my hair or changing my appearance in general catapults me into a new chapter of my

life."

In 2014, researchers Hengchen Dai, Katherine Milkman, and Jason Riis talked about temporal landmarks and the Fresh Start Effect. Special days like New Years, birthday and a new month could classify as these landmarks that allow breathing room for the aspiration to come undone and be someone else. These dividers allow you to create a barrier between who you were and

who you are. Coming from that logic, one could also say that sometimes we manufacture these temporal landmarks like a sudden hair transformation to be pushed into a timeline.

The calendar might disagree but a random Tuesday in June isn't ordinary, it's part of the summer you turned brunette. Your life suddenly has a AD and BC. The you before and after. Hair metamorphoses from an attachment of you to an extension for expression as you give physicality to change.

In 2010, psychologists Erica Slotter, Wendi Gardner and Eli Finkel asked a resounding question in a study titled Who Am I Without You? They found that specifically romantic merge identities. You go from distinct individuals to one blob. Friends, hobbies, routines and time - you share everything as you go from 'I' to 'We.' So when that relationship ends, so does that part of you who partook in the 'We.' A sudden dip in the self concept is seen with an unclear idea of who you are without the other person.

This is possibly why people seek out these building blocks. The study looked at changes in appearance alongside shifts in social circles, activities, future plans and even values after relationships ended. Your haircut cannot uncouple two intertwined identities, obviously, but it can offer a remarkably efficient first draft. You might not know who post-breakup you is yet. But she apparently has a fringe.

This logic stretches beyond relationships too. A new job, workplace or city introduces a new opportunity of rebuilding a new you, a demarcation that only you will be aware of. Smruthi extends her line of thought saying, "Other time like a new university or workplace, I want people to view me a certain way." So, you get the first mover advantage of hiding the evidence of you before AD. A hair transformation becomes a form of self-authorship. You are not only asking Who am I now? You get some say in the answer.

We as humans love to make rituals out of everything. It can be an ordinary day when the rain came only after a thousand prayers. Boom, you have a festival. Similarly, waking up to the sound of chirping birds then slapping on some skincare to go to your pilates call, followed by brunch. Your Sunday ritual. This occurs more especially during periods of change. Because we need something tangible to provide evidence that 'hey, change was here' and give yourself more than anyone the confirmation to proceed to be something new. Only the way we ritualise has changed as compared to our ancestors. We no longer necessarily gather the village to announce that one version of us has died and another has emerged. Instead, we delete the pictures, return their sweatshirt, rearrange the bedroom, book a 6 PM appointment at the salon and tell the hairdresser to "just chop it all off."

The ritual is more than just a hair cut though, it's shrouding hope beyond anything. That life exists beyond this point. The sun will still rise, those same birds will come chirping to your window, the Earth will rotate and eventually, you will be okay. And the person constantly pushing for it will also be you. You, that mirror and 5-cent scissors.