Lina had always been known for her hair—thick, chestnut brown, cascading down her back like a silk ribbon. At school events, relatives’ weddings, and even everyday outings, people noticed her for it. Complimented her for it. Expected it.
But what they didn’t see was the weight that came with it—not just the strands, but the expectations. “So pretty, don’t ever cut it,” they’d say. “Your hair is your best feature.”
At fifteen, Lina began to feel like she was living in a frame someone else had painted. She was changing—growing more curious, more bold, more herself. But her hair kept her tethered to a version of her identity that no longer felt true.
Secretly, she started collecting photos of short hairstyles. Pixie cuts, undercuts, even shaved styles. She wasn’t sure which one was for her, but she knew one thing: she needed to let go of the past to make room for the present.
One Saturday morning, she took a deep breath, looked in the mirror, and said aloud: “It’s time.” She walked to the neighborhood salon, heart pounding. The stylist blinked in surprise when Lina said, “I want to go short. Really short.”
“Are you sure?” the stylist asked gently.
“I’ve never been more sure.”
With each snip, years of silent doubts, people-pleasing, and hesitation fell to the floor. As the last long lock landed, Lina sat up straighter. She looked in the mirror and smiled—not because she liked what she saw (though she did), but because she finally saw herself.
When she walked into school the next day, heads turned. Some gasped, some whispered, some stared. But Lina walked with her chin high. For the first time, she wasn’t defined by her hair—she was defined by her choice.
And that made her feel powerful.