This blog is deeply personal to me. It’s about my son, his hair, and the journey we’ve shared together.

After my son was born, I experienced severe postpartum depression. Those early days were filled with both love and tears. I remember telling my husband that I wanted the magical moment of holding our newborn in the hospital to last forever. I wanted to keep him my baby, untouched by time.

As the months passed, my son began to grow — and so did his hair. It was beautiful: dirty blond, curling softly at the ends. For me, his hair became more than just hair. It was a living reminder of those fragile, precious first days. A piece of babyhood I could hold onto.

But as his hair grew, so did the comments.

“When are you going to cut his hair?”

“You can’t let it grow long like that — he’s a boy.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Everybody is going to think he is a girl!”

“He can’t see because his hair is in his eyes.” Meanwhile, he could see perfectly fine.

“Why are you letting it grow that long like that?”

Over and over, I heard those words. Each time I replied that I wasn’t going to cut it, the comments would return again later and stronger, as though persistence could change my mind. What many of them didn’t understand at the time, is that their words cut so deeply into me. They weren’t harmless suggestions — they pierced through me like a knife, reopening wounds from my struggle with postpartum depression.

I’ve never fully understood what leads someone to overstep intimate boundaries like that. I would never presume to tell another parent how to raise their child — that is sacred territory. There were times when people I cared about offered unsolicited opinions, not stopping to consider that their words might be hurtful. And back then, I didn’t have the voice I have now. I couldn’t say, “What you’re saying to me is not okay.” But I can now — and I will and I do.

Still, I stood my ground. I held onto his long hair as long as I could. Eventually, though, I grew tired of the constant comments. Exhaustion wore me down. Against my heart’s desire, I gave in, and we cut his hair.

Years later, when my son was ten, he decided he wanted to grow his hair out again. This time, it wasn’t just about me holding onto his babyhood — it was about him discovering his identity. My husband and I fully supported him. For more than a year, his hair grew long and gorgeous. We admired it. We encouraged him. We celebrated the confidence it gave him.

But just as before, the comments started again.

“When are you going to cut your hair?”

“It’s too long.”

“You can’t have it that long like that.”

“You really need to cut it, it’s too long.”

“How can you see when it’s in your face?”

Bribery tactics, “If you cut your hair I will buy you something you want.”

And just like before, those words chipped away at his joy.

Eventually, he was told he had no choice but to cut it in order to comply with expectations from school. Sitting with him at the salon, I felt his heartbreak as he watched those locks fall away. I wanted to shield him from the world’s judgments and harshness, but I couldn’t. He was devastated, and to this day, the loss still lingers inside him.

This is why hair is so much more than hair to us.

It has been tied to my healing as a mother, and to my son’s growth as a child discovering who he is. Twice, we’ve had to conform to what society says is “appropriate” for boys, setting aside what felt right to us. Twice, we’ve been told that the length of his hair matters more than his individuality, his happiness, or his sense of belonging.

And that is what hurts most — not the cutting of hair, but the cutting of spirit.

Hair should never be reduced to a rule or a stereotype. It is identity. It is comfort. It is freedom. It is part of what makes us who we are. My hope is that by sharing this story, people will think twice before judging, or before telling a parent — or a child — what they should do when it’s truly none of their business to do so in the first place. Words matter, but compassion matters more.

And to my son: your hair has always been beautiful, but it’s your strength, your uniqueness, and your spirit that shine most of all. So keep letting your light shine for the whole world to see.

So, you see, in the end, it was so much more than the hair — it was love, healing, and the courage to let my child be exactly who he is.

His hair will grow again — as it always does — wild and free, like his spirit. And maybe, just maybe, those who once felt the need to cut it down will one day see what I’ve always seen: that beauty isn’t in the trimming, but in the letting grow.

Love, Fran xoxox

Photo credit — my sister, Emily Docktor, who cut my son’s hair for the first time when he was a year and a half.
Photo credit — Laura Palo, who cut my son’s hair when he was ten.

If you’re looking for a therapist, check out my sister, Emily Docktor @ New Hope Therapeutic Services. Their website is newhope-therapy.com and their phone number is (203) 794-4721 or the Danbury office number (203) 896-8161. Victoria Croswell LCSW+2Psychology Today+2

If you’re looking for a trusted hair-stylist, you can make an appointment at A New Beginning Salon and Spa in Bethel, CT (where Laura Palo works). Their phone number is (203) 743-9795 and the website is anbsalonspa.com MapQuest+2Yellow Pages+2