When I was younger, my mom would tie my hair with those little ties that had balls at the ends, you know, where you would wrap the elastic around the ponytail and fasten them by stretching one ball over the other. I don't know what those were called, but the internet today seems to call them "ball hair ties" so that's what they'll be called.
I had all kinds of them, and the vast majority of them were from Asia. They had little Asian cartoon characters on them, or they would sometimes be flowers, or sometimes just a clump of fancy looking puffballs and shiny beads. Either way, they were always made of bright colors, and they were hard to miss.
Those are what I tied my hair with. And I never thought anything of it until sixth grade, when one morning at Sunday school, we went around the room saying what we appreciate about each other. When it got to me, a girl gushed, "I love how you always have cute little things in your hair!" and everyone agreed how I always had my hair tied with "cute little hair ties."
"Cute little hair ties."
That's not what I thought they were. They were just the norm for me.
And that's when I realized that they were different. These little Asian hair ties that my mom got for me? They weren't the stretchy brown circular hair bands that held up everyone else's ponytails.
I thought about it a lot that day. That's the last time I ever wore them. I got home, pulled them out of my hair, and replaced them with the regular circle kind.
And I haven't really thought about that until now.
Because it didn't seem like a big deal to me back then. It was just an accepting, submissive "this is different about me, I don't want this difference, and it's easy to change, so I'll change it."
I've always thought of myself as fairly indifferent to judgments and expectations. I remember at my birthday sleepovers in middle school, when all of my friends brought their hair straighteners and curlers, I always refused to let them touch my hair with an iron. I liked my hair. I didn't want to change it. I overheard my dad consult my mom with possible concern, "She's not doing her hair like all the rest of her friends." My mom shrugged and said, "She has confidence." And that was the end of that.
So I wonder what is was back then that made me switch those ball hair ties for the normal bands. What was it that made me quietly reject what had been part of my everyday life? And, in a way, they were reflective of my heritage. Ball hair ties were sold in US stores, but the ones my mom got me were made in Asia, and you could tell. Thinking back on it, I'm feeling some nostalgia and a little bit of regret. How did I let the comments - they were even compliments - of my classmates so easily persuade me to change what had more or less been a part of me?
It didn't mean much back then.
So what am I throwing away now? I am making many changes in my life. I do all of these in hopes of bettering myself and my future, but which ones of these changes may I someday regret?
