Saturday ramble: soulmates and straight hair

There's a definition of soulmates--I think it's Arielle Ford's--that really resonates to me: 

A soulmate is someone you can completely be yourself with... and when you look into each others’ eyes, you know that you are home. 

Note that she says "a soulmate." You needn't limit yourself to one, or even one at a time. It's a sense--a relationship--I've described in the past as 'family,' which is wrought with irony (because my family). I've been blessed at various times in my life to feel a part of other people's families, with whom I've felt more at peace than with my own.

Whatever you want to call it, it's a wonderful thing. I had brunch with friends last weekend whom I hadn't seen in ages (well, months), and one of them remarked that no matter how long it's been, we always seamlessly pick up right where we left off. That's family. I could, I suppose, go into how I don't feel more alone by virtue of being single, because I have so many soulmates and families, but that's a topic for another post (I wouldn't be surprised if it's the topic of an existing one).

During the shutdown, I missed my work family, and when we came back, it felt like being back amid family. I have another such family that's off my radar most of the time: my grad school family. Not just my classmates from the same year, but the entire community, including those I haven't met. I hosted a reception for my graduate program last night, and it reminded me just what a family it was: every time I'm around fellow alums or current students, including those I'm meeting for the same time, it just feels like home. They're my people. The current students are inspiring as hell--they're bright and interested in ideas and in awe of the world around them. It's a wonderful family to be a part of.

***
The reception was in my house, but I merely provided the space and invited a handful of alums (they randomly invited others). Two of my friends/fellow-alums showed up, and it was great for the current students to see the lasting, close friendship--ten years after graduation--between the three of us. One stayed afterward to catch up. And this is where we transition from family, to hair.

"I say this as someone who has curly hair and defends curly hair out of principle..." she said.

For years, she's been my partner in standing up for curly hair. We've shared tips about managing curly hair, including stylists who can handle it. [On a separate note, the local Smith alum listserve was abuzz this week after someone asked for recommendations for a stylist who knew how to work curly hair.] It's really an issue: when you have thick, textured hair, it can become unmanageable. It's not just an issue of making it look great; it's an issue of making it look not-horrible. As much as my mom might have chosen her words differently in telling me that I had Hagrid hair, she wasn't far off in the way of substance.

But I digress; back to my friend, who went on to say, "...you look really, really good with straight here. Like, you look amazing with straight hair." 

And all I could say was, "Yeah, I look like a different person with straight hair."

Mind you, I'd had my hair cut earlier in the week, so my hair looked better than I could ever make it look on my own--but nonetheless, I've come to notice that even when I take a few minutes to flat iron, it makes a huge difference. I would go as far as to say that it takes a minute for people I know to recognize me.

Maybe you've followed by musings about getting a flat iron--actually, here's an excerpt that covers both "extended" family and flat-ironing:

I (re)explored Prague on my own the next day and met up with my roommates mid-afternoon to get ready for the celebration. I liked them a lot, and, as close-knit as the three of them were, they welcomed me without pause. As we dressed for the wedding, I asked whether either of the ladies had brought a flat-iron. I felt the need to explain--the absurdity hitting me even as I spoke--that I'd long resisted getting a flat-iron, considering it a form of selling out to The Man, but that I came to see how it really was a quick fix for the mess that my hair could be. Yup, there I was, inkless government employee, justifying my embrace of the flat-iron to a tattoo-covered bar owner. Who embraced it long before I did (but, alas, had not brought one).  

Deciding to get a flat-iron really was an identity-fraught dilemma. "Was," past tense, years ago. These days, I use it more and more. It's like so many other things that I long resisted--like plucking my eyebrows--where you just kind of decide that it's worth it. (I'm not there with make up and don't want to be). Which brings us back to the bigger issue, explored here specifically with regard to hair removal, but we can extrapolate it to all kinds of preening:

She starts off by saying that "[we're] pretending that the culture isn't influencing how we think about body hair, and pretending that it's just a personal preference. For me, [that] is doing more harm to ourselves than good..." 

Rachel's argument rests upon the premise that most of her choices do actually exist in a vacuum, uninfluenced by culture, and that there are simply some choices that are influenced by a single, monolithic cultural force ("patriarchy"). But there's nothing about claiming that you had agency in shaving your hair off that says that the choice was free of cultural influences.

and

The other premise that Rachel's argument rests upon the idea that being influenced by cultural factors makes that choice less valid.

and (with some context missing, but you get the point)

This has led to a queer culture in which accusing others of false consciousness is seen as a serious faux pas. Similarly, demanding to hear someone else's reasons for their sexual preferences or their gender expression, and refusing to accept, "because, I like it this way, this feels authentic to me, and I can't explain it beyond that", tends to be seen as rude, at best.

Which is how I see that kind of thing: my 'beauty' choices aren't that complicated. They're not a conscious identity statement, so much as an 'eh, it's not that much work, so I guess it's worth it, most of the time.' I could find you many more links, but I have $hit to do. I could tie this in with so much other stuff--Jennifer Oullette's new book on identity, for example--but I have $hit to do. All I'm saying is, I've been straightening my hair a lot recently. Come take my feminist card (if you have nothing better to do).