Lesotho Infinity And Beyond: 24 October 2014: Haters gonna hate, or The first chop

I just came back inside my room after my ‘me took like ten of my matches and burned a clump of hair that I swept out of my room (the reason for having clumps of hair in my room will become clear later). She said if the birds took my hair and made a nest out of it, I would become crazy. Well, I guess some birds must have already gotten a hold of some of my loose strands, because today was quite a trip. It started with a PC session at the hub about sexual assault, which first of all made me mad because it was like they were talking to toddlers. “Is she asking for it if [insert dumb reason here]? No, nobody ever asks to be raped. This is common sense. I think they are doing these kinds of sessions just to cover their butt, because they probably don’t want to be liable if we do something wrong. They can always say that they have presented us with the information.

Sorry not sorry for the following rant. The next activity made me the maddest, though, because it seemed to be trying to teach us about the gender norms and stereotypes that are just beginning to be broken in America, and in a lot of other places for that matter. They called out different things and had us stand on one side of the room if it was a man’s job and on the other side if it was a woman’s job. It was things like “takes care of the children” and “carries heavy objects” and also things like chef vs. home cook and farmer vs. gardener. For each job called out, a lot of people went to one side of the room or the other, but I planted myself firmly in the middle, arms folded, with a distinct scowl on my face. I really did not understand what they were trying to get at here- that gender norms exist? Duh. We’re not idiots. I even asked the staff member who was leading the activity what the point was, and she couldn’t really answer. Alrightey then. I could legitimately argue for any job they called that it could be carried out by both men and women- especially the carrying heavy objects one, because here the bo’me carry those gigantic water buckets on their heads. I have since tried that and couldn’t make it more than ten steps before feeling like my neck was going to collapse. I realize that they were trying to see if we knew the traditional gender roles, because there are more distinct gender roles here, especially in the rural areas. But I feel like even doing that will perpetuate those segregated norms, and as someone who never really fit neatly into my gender’s stereotype, I just wasn’t having it. Some other people had the same feeling and stood in the middle with me through the whole stupid exercise. I’m aware that integration in terms of gender roles into this culture is important to a certain extent, but what about the PC’s 2^nd overall goal of the whole organization, where we’re supposed to share American culture and values? Gender equality and freedom of expression across the gender spectrum is insanely important to people my age. If I am supposed to be a role model for these young girls and I don’t stand up for equality within my gender, how are they supposed to see that they can do whatever job they want, be leaders in their families and communities, and be the changemakers for a better world? There’s definitely a fine line between integration and standing up for what you believe in. After that clustermess of a session, I was more ready than ever to do what I had been thinking about doing for a while: cutting my hair.

I had been halfway hesitant earlier, but at that point I was so over it, especially after that session about gender stereotypes. Hillary and I both went to Tyler’s house, put our hair in ponytails, and chopped those suckers off. I was not nervous in the slightest, but Hillary was a bit more scared. I was gonna buzz it all off right then, but Tyler’s clippers kind of crapped out on me, so we decided to just leave the one side buzzed, going for the accidental Skrillex look. So my hair was buzzed on the side and about as long as the bottom of my ears everywhere else. I think I kind of weirded out the kids as I walked back. They were like “Why did you cut your hair? You were beautiful.” Thanks, kid, but you don’t have to wash your hair in a bucket and deal with the wind whipping it around all over the place and getting it into infinite knots. None of these kids have any hair at all, and they are all beautiful, so I don’t see what the big deal is. When I got home, my ‘me was laughing like crazy. I guess that dubstep-inspired fashion has not yet reached Lesotho. I thought I looked kinda badass, myself. I ensured her that I would cut the rest of it the next day. I went into my room and fixed it a bit with scissors in my tiny mirror by the dim lamplight, making it much better and not sticking out everywhere. My plan is to go in stages. First Skrillex, then Mohawk, then the full buzz. But for now it’s kind of fun. Again, I’m already the weird foreigner who does handstands, so what’s another level of weird? Exactly.