I wish I had the ability to condense more effectively or, that you had the time and desire to read novellas posing as blogs by me. *grinning*
But, we are busy people and I lack the ability to narrow down a long story and you lack the time to bear my rambling. So, let me cut to it... as best I can.
'Doing hair' was not my first choice. I went to College. I studied Intercultural Studies and Missions. I, being a survivor of rape and years of sexual abuse, was going to travel to Africa and work with survivors there. Help take care of them. Aide them in healing and being restored to life. Mind you, I had no desire to 'Christianize' or 'Westernize' African women or African villages. I just wanted to love on these women and children and such... give them what I felt like I had been shorted.
But, after College... well, things changed drastically and I found myself arguing with the Love of my Life, Mr. J. He was telling me I should consider Beauty School. What?! No. No.
He wasn't the only one, though. There were several others.
But see, I had tried Beauty College once before. Years before. It was a last resort thing. I was young and insecure and lost and desperate for something to do- at that time, I didn't think I could succeed in College.
*leaning in and whispering* I didn't realize then how smart I am. *wink* LOL!
But fer reals. . .
When He brought it up, I just couldn't understand. But, having finished College and again, finding myself with no 'better options', I went.
Six months into my Beauty School experience it hit... it hit like a fat chicken falling out of the sky onto my thick, fat head.
This is exactly what I'm suppose to be doing.
See, women are strange, wonderful creatures; our hair is the way to our hearts. I kid you not.
The minute I touch my client's hair, she just opens right up; of course, not every single time, but a majority. It's sacred and ... and... such a privilege.
Ok, so a touch of back story to really drive what I'm building up to here.
Just because things were the way they were and I bear no grudge against anyone anymore... people are broken and that's just the way it is. I can't change that or them.
But, I grew up feeling so ugly and deprived of affirmation and acceptance. I was a little girl who wanted to be pretty and delighted in; what little girl doesn't want that?!
Anyhow, because of the sexual abuse and other countless factors, beauty became this icky, sticky, yet desirable thing for me. But early on in my youth I had decided, by strong encouragement from life, that I was ugly and always would be. Ugh.
Then I met Him, my Mr. J. and it changed everything. He thinks me lovely and now I believe Him. Because, well... He's the trump card and no one else has to agree, because ... He's, again, the trump. It was a long journey. Well worth it.
It was during Beauty College that I really began to deal with these killer lies.
But did it really matter? What I believed?
YES!!! It mattered! It mattered because it effected every bit of the way I lived. I settled for less because I thought I was less. Other times I was hyper-vigilante, making sure I wouldn't be overlooked or taken advantage of ever again.
In the abuse the very core of my person was violated and attacked and lied to about what makes up my worth and value. My beauty was marred with deceits I was too young to filter. My body became a billboard no matter what I did. My beauty was ruined. That's what I believed.
My desire to be beautiful never died, though, no matter how hard I tried to kill it.
And then came these precious moments when someone would affirm me or tell me I was pretty and I... was like a plant, that awkward slow movement it does after it's been watered after having gone so long without it... ya, that was me. I was awkward and immediately clingy.
But it brought about this... ache and soothing at the same time. I needed to hear it. I needed to be told and the Truth ruffled up every feather where every lie was hiding and buried and they began to fall away and I was lighter and lighter... and prettier. Yes, I promise you, I think the letting go made me pretty. LOL.
"Ok, connect it, Mandi!". I hear you. (One day I'll be able to adequately condense *sigh*)
Beauty School, remember, six months in I realize this is exactly what I'm suppose to be doing? Why? Because it became very apparent to me that you don't have to be a rape or abuse survivor to long or desire affirmation, or to want to be pretty. Brokenness and compassion deficiencies come from a lot of different experiences, no matter how extreme or mild.
I was not the only woman like me; longing to be seen, really seen and appreciated. It took others helping me to see and now... here I was, entering into an industry where I would be able to reach those ladies just like myself, aching for the same things. I could do for them what was done for me, I could help them see; in a very gentle manner, where a level of emotional intimacy is just part of the exchange, I could affirm them. I could tell them what they need to hear- just how beautiful they really are.
I tread lightly, mind you. I am careful and mindful of the individual I am encountering. They are not projects for me. They are not ... stepping stones to self-redemption.They are names and faces and lives and people and I listen and I respond with care and love and encouragement.
Now, I say all of that to say this...
It's easy to write off what we Stylists do as 'non-necessity'. A luxury. A waste of money. A hobby. A frivolous endeavor. And it's easy, it seems, to assume that we are price gouging and ripping people off; surely what we do takes no real skill, because you can buy a box at Wal-Mart, right?
I hear women day in and day out make snarky comments about the cost of hair services.
I try to overlook it.
But, not today. Today I tell you all of that story, because I want you to know why I do what I do. I want you to know that so many of the Stylists I know are in it for the same reasons. We love to not only make women look good, we love to make them feel good. We love to encourage them. Beauty is not for the elite and I don't make beautiful women, I just do their hair.
We work hard. We aren't just curling your hair, we are listening to your lives. We are crying when you cry. We laugh with you. We rejoice with you and grieve with you.
Just this past year a dear client of mine lost her three year old in a tragic accident. Another lost her dad. That's just a couple. I grieved with them. I brushed their hair as they cried. It was therapeutic. Touch ministers. It calms and soothes and when life rips from you a piece of your heart, a part of your DNA... sometimes, having nice hair makes facing the World in your tattered vulnerability less scary. It's the one thing you can control.
I get the honor of helping in that.
We stylist don't get unemployment. We don't have benefits. We don't get great tax breaks. We don't get paid time off. We stay late, come in early... just so you can have pretty hair. We skip lunch so you can get that up-do for the party.
We do it because we love what we do. Because we love you.
We are passionate about hair, because we are passionate about helping you look, feel, be your best, for whatever reason or occasion.
It's what we do.
It does take skill. There are conditioners, CONDITIONERS, that if mixed together, they can melt your hair. Can you believe that?! Tell me there is no skill involved, no need of education!
We know our color wheels and tonal values. Porosity and density and elasticity.
We paid. We studied. We continue to pay and study.
The average income for a stylist is roughly $20 grand. Obviously, this varies depending on location, but nevertheless, that is not the income of a wealthy person; especially one who is uninsured, and pays nearly a 1/4 of that in taxes!
Why am I telling you all of this?
I want you to gain a greater respect and love for your stylists. I want you to show them some gratitude. I want you to tip them bigger and better. I want you to stop making snarky comments that undermine the credibility of what they do.
I want you to know how much your stylist loves you and how invested they are in you... as a whole person, not just as a head of hair.
I want you to gain a respect for an industry, a job, a trade, a skill, a passion- for the Artist that is so easy to overlook and take for granted and yet, will be there to help you look and feel your best each and every time you call.
