Today, I am thankful for those thin, flimsy filaments on my head that define who I am.
In the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic, at a trying time when most were ‘sheltered in place’, I had a videoconference meeting with one of my colleagues. By that point, we were seven weeks into the ‘work from home’ mandate. As I joined via Webex, I turned on my laptop video so I could make a more personal connection with my trusted colleague. At this point, she sheepishly admitted that she would also turn on the video, but only if I would agree not to make any comment about her hair. Of course, as someone who’s been married for more than two decades, I was already well trained on sensitive matters when I should never utter a word. Even more so, as a 20-year veteran of corporate American, I am pretty well attuned with certain triggers that might lead to a phone call from one’s representative from the Human Resources department. As she joined, my colleague made a biting observation about the inanity of the pandemic: “I am struggling to comprehend why the landscapers who cut my lawn are viewed as essential employees during a pandemic, but the person who cuts my hair is not. The criteria would clearly be different if I, or any other woman, was the governor.”
All joking aside, we are all fascinated with our hair. Our attitude and relationship with hair is one of the true quirks of humankind. As I enter the sixth decade of my life, I’ve come to realize that my hair has its modus operandi. The think, brown strands I have on the top of my forehead are now graying, thinning, and dissipating, as my hairline becomes a more salient feature of my countenance. Meanwhile, hair has opted to sprout from odd places, like my nose and ears, much to my embarrassment. Yet, I groom for each strand of hair as if it is one of my offspring, taking meticulous care to wash and comb it at least once daily. When one gets down to the ‘root’ of the matter from an evolutionary perspective, hair was never intended to be some essential characteristic for the propagation of the human race. Rather, it serves an important role to help regulate the temperature of our skull, serving either as an insulator in the cold weather or a coolant on a sweltering hot day. Hair also protects our vulnerable foreheads from ultraviolet radiation exposure. As for the hair on our bodies and extremities, these alpha-keratin filaments predominantly aid in thermal regulation or sensory awareness. Certain hair, like those comprising our eyelashes or the short hair in our nares, serve a protective role to prevent foreign substances, such as dirt or water, from invading our vital organs. As for the role of eyebrows, I have no earthly clue.
Yet, our hair has become an entity that we all cherish far beyond its scientific value. Collectively, these fine follicles are the one component of our bodies that we can control, either in terms of its length, color, or style. Thus, hair has come to be regarded as a unique, individualistic discriminator within our society and, in some cultures, as a status symbol.
Take for instance the story of the Russian czar, Peter I. Also known as Peter the Great, this ruler gave rise to the Russian state in the late 17th & early 18th Century. In an effort to learn from the success of his European neighbors, Peter opted to travel extensively throughout many of Europe’s nations, in disguise, for a period of 18 months. During his time incognito, he hobnobbed with prolific and high-ranking statesmen in places like Austria, France, and Great Britain, where he began to adopt their social mores. In an effort learn the art of shipbuilding, he even worked in the shipyards of the Dutch East India Company for nearly four months, while also visiting factories, army divisions, schools, and museums.
Upon returning to his home in 1698, he instituted a massive campaign to ‘modernize’ Russia so they could effectively compete with their sophisticated neighbors to the west. He introduced commercial shipbuilding, modified the Russian militia, and worked to ‘westernize’ the conservative, agrarian Russian mindset. Yet, what he is most remembered for was his attempt to change the natural appearance of Russians in an effort to assimilate their appearance with those of Europe. At a famous reception packed with Russian diplomats and dignitaries, he pulled out a razor and, in what must have been a hair-raising act, began shaving the long, thick beards of his guests. The next day, he mandated that all Russian men must adhere to the practice of beardlessness. Well, as one might suspect, his hairless manifesto was met with stiff opposition, especially from the priests and bishops of the Russian Orthodox Church. So, he softened his mandatory stance, instead issuing a ‘beard tax’ on this day (Sept 5) in 1698. As the tax would note, those men wishing to maintain facial hair had to pay an annual fee to the state. As you might imagine, Peter’s plan backfired. Many noblemen and commoners opted to pay his levy because, well, their hair was their own mark of individualism.
We all love our hair and for a variety of reasons. I’ve chosen to enjoy mine for as long as I have it. So, today, I proclaim my heartfelt gratitude for my hair, even though I realize its days, like my time on this Earth, are clearly numbered.
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