Maternal prison

My mom always says the best hairstyle for a girl is a shaved head.

Clean, simple, and easy to take care of.

Plus, it keeps you from going around trying to tempt boys all the time.

Growing up, that's exactly what I had—a shiny, bald head.

And I got all the weird looks that came with it.

The summer after high school, I threatened to kill myself just to get the chance to grow my hair out.

The night before I was supposed to leave for college, my mom shaved my head again while I was asleep.

1

A bloodcurdling scream echoed from the bathroom early in the morning.

I stared at my scalp, now shaved and gray again, and just about lost it. I was a mess, totally hysterical.

My mom came in from the kitchen, spatula in hand. She kicked me in the lower back.

"What's all the yelling about? You trying to wake up the whole damn neighborhood?"

The kick sent me stumbling forward, my stomach slamming against the sink edge.

I barely felt it. I spun around, shouting at my mom like a crazy person.

"Do I not deserve to have hair?! Is it a crime for me to grow hair?! Do you have to see me die before you're happy?!"

My mom just scoffed.

"Go ahead and die then. I swear, I've never met a kid who's so quick to use death threats on their own mother."

Her flat, uninterested tone hit me like a punch in the gut.

I thought back to the last time I’d tried to fight her on this.

I'd held a razor blade to my wrist, the sharp edge a hair's breadth from my artery.

That was the only time she'd given in, finally agreeing that my hair was my business.

I was so relieved to have finally won a battle for myself as I became an adult.

That summer, I watched every tiny sprout of hair appear on my head.

I toughed it out through the itchiness as the ends started to show.

I felt happy and full of anticipation thinking about college.

I thought my parents must actually care about me.

Maybe they just didn't realize how much the hair thing bothered me.

They finally gave in when I got emotional.

Now, I realized my mom didn't care if I lived or died.

She just gave me hope so she could rip it away.

To solidify her control over me, and make sure I knew I'd never get away.

The commotion woke my dad.

He saw my head and just blinked, then turned to my mom. "Didn't you say she could grow her hair out? Why'd you shave it again?"

"So what if I did? It's for her own good!" she retorted.

"She's got to do ROTC in college! She'll be all hot and sweaty with a mess of hair! And you know she's always been messy! Her hair will be all greasy and gross, isn't that awful?"

My dad rubbed the sleep from his eyes and just played his usual peacemaker role.

"Alright, alright, stop it, you guys. Your mom's just trying to look out for you.”

"Hurry up and get ready; you've got to catch your train. Don't forget you're supposed to be starting college today!"

"Look out for me? What the hell does that even mean?"

My dad's weak-willed attitude was like a bucket of ice water to the face.

I couldn’t...