To all those who have willingly yielded
To the whims of fashion
Dutifully cutting off your locks when the tomboy look came back (as it always does)
All you who have worshipped at the altar of the pixie cut, the lob, the undercut, and all the bobs – short, shaggy, textured, blunt – with their drip-dry ease
You who believed their mothers when they said it wouldn’t grow
And made the regular pilgrimage to the salon
To be shorn:
Now is the time to reclaim your true power.
Those days were not without joy, the time saved before the mirror better spent sleeping or feeding children before dashing off to work
Where you groveled and clawed,
Sharpening your Philistine’s dagger,
only to see those with less skill and far less feral stamina
Rise above you.
Every time you began a sentence with “sorry,”
Surrendered credit due you to another
Made yourself small in the face of a compliment
You lopped off another inch.
But those days are done.
Never again will you shed your strength for anyone,
Pretend to be other than a lioness.
Let all who enter
Bow down at the sheer majesty of your wild, wild mane.
By Cate Barker
(C) 2024
