Thoughts on... Hair for Hope 2013

Hair for Hope is around the corner. The appeal for donations has begun. Hair for Hope, organized by the Children’s Cancer Foundation, is the only head-shaving fundraising event in Singapore. Their aim is to raise funds while raising awareness of childhood cancer.

I participated in Hair for Hope once as a shavee. It wasn’t a decision made on a whim, but one that took me two years to gather enough courage to agree to participate. And no, half shaven heads ala Skrillex or G-Dragon weren’t the rage then. Not yet.

Hair is a major MAJOR part of a female’s psyche. I cannot emphasize how important hair it is for a female (of course there are exceptions. Not all females are hair-obsessed). It is part of her psyche as a female. For a female to lose her hair is to lose a big chunk of who she is. Ask any lady who has long silky hair to cut it short. They will never do it. Imagine shaving it all off.

When I first found out about Hair for Hope, I entertained ideas about joining it. It will be cool! It will be radical! But these are just passing thoughts with no substance and all air. I relegated them to the back of my mind, knowing that I will never do it. Then the event came back the following year and once again I briefly asked myself if I should do it. But I promptly pushed them to the back of my mind again, because seriously, I am not going to shave all my hair.

I am one of those females who are not overly concerned with hair. Let’s just say that I have a given-up-on-my-pathetic-excuse-of-a-hair attitude towards the patch on my head. I am not blessed with beautiful long locks. Instead, I am implanted with weed-like stuff on my head. Ok, not weed, but my hair is way too fine, way too little, way too flat and can get terribly oily at times. Ugh, it sounds disgusting and I am disgusted by it. So I have always kept my hair short (to give a little illusion of bounce and volume), except that one little long-hair stint I had during secondary school (bad bad memories). I ignore my hair most of the time anyway (keeping it out of mind reduces the frustration and stress), but the thought of shaving it all off scares me too, mainly because I am afraid of how people will view me as a female.

I’ve had short hair all along, and at times I do wonder if that will make people stereotype me as a tomboy. I have been mistaken for being a boy by strangers many a times and I usually just let them stew in their mistake. I have also been informed by a guy friend that I am “very tomboy” because I have always kept short hair and didn’t wear skirts (stereotypical labeling). I felt like slapping his, but being the peaceful creature that I am, I maintained my composure and told him that he is stereotyping, tsk tsk.   

I digress.

So going bald is not an easy decision but Hair for Hope would not leave me alone. As fate would have it, in 2010, they held a satellite event where I worked. It is definitely a flashing neon sign for me to participate, and I knew it. My colleagues were also interested, and after some discussion, four of us (3 females + 1 male) signed up as shavees. There really is strength in numbers. Kudos to my female colleagues (one of them had really long luscious hair)! We were each given a donation card to gather monies from friends, family, relatives, colleagues and those who want support us on our journey to bald-dom. I cannot remember how much I collected, but it was a sum that I am happy of. It is not in the thousands but mere hundreds but I believed that every little bit counts.

The day came and as we were seated below the stage, waiting for our turns to shave our heads, I was nervous as hell. I very much preferred to have done the shave in private and not on a stage with everyone looking (I work in a really big organization). Yes, mainly they will be cheering you on, but I don’t need the attention (the irony of not wanting attention when I chose to go attention-grabbing bald). Then our turned came. With hands wringing I walked up the stage, resolute to not turn back and run. I sat on the chair stoically. The hairdresser threw a black sheet around me, secured it and turned on the hair shaver, which buzzed menacingly. All eyes were on us, the rare female participants (there were few others from other departments), and then the hairdressers set the shavers loose on our heads. I held my breath for the cut and wondered if I should keep my eyes open or shut. In the end I kept it opened and trained on the floor of the stage. I don’t know how but I managed to plaster a smile on my face, hoping that my nervousness didn’t show.

Cheering ensued after our first shave, a crude white patch across the black landscape of our heads. More shaving followed, more white patches appearing on our heads. I gradually got less nervous and smiled bigger for colleagues who were taking pictures. The whole shave lasted for about five minutes and I came out of it unscathed and relieved. My head felt cooler, I was probably a few grams lighter and instead of hair, my crowning glory is now my scalp. I was anxious as to how people will react to me but at the same time I was happy that I finally went and did it. I was also worried as to how I will look hairless, but apparently I have been hiding a very nice round head with the sort of curvature that makes me look good bald. No worries there. Some even said I look better without hair (-_-“). I must have been an ugly duckling my whole life.

So after the event, I tried not to cover my head. There is no point in shaving your head to make a statement and then hiding it under a cap or scarf. I only wear a cap or cover with my hoodie in the office or an air-conditioned place because it is cold (IT IS COLD!). Other than that, I walk around with my shining crown of hairlessness. Washing my hair, or what is left of it, is a breeze. I squeeze a small dot of shampoo and just rub it over my scalp and rinse. Washed. Drying is even easier; just rub with my towel for a few seconds. Dried. Life has never been easier. I don’t even have a use for combs and brushes anymore.

Of course there are stares from strangers. A group of teenage boys sniggered when they noticed the lack of a mane and I overheard the name “laughing Buddha” being tossed around. I didn’t mind. They were after all, teenage boys. I also got mistaken even more for being a boy but I just smiled politely. Again I didn’t mind. I supposed it is the thought that I have done it for a good cause, so these stares; the laughing; the mistaken gender-identity; is all part and parcel of it. And I am well prepared for it when I decided to shave.

So will you be going for a shave? If so, you may want to register for the event and get a donation card. The event this year is on 27 and 28 July 2013 at Vivocity. This is the link to their official website. 

If not, please support those who have registered as shavees (especially the females. I’m sure they need the extra morale boost). Go to the official website to make your donation.

Here is a peek of my just shaven head three years ago (taken with my then lousy camera phone):