Dear Dudes Who Think I Give A Shit What They Think Of My Hair,
I don’t give a fuck if you like my hair. I really and truly don’t. I know that you think you’re giving me a compliment when you tell me that you like it, but you’re not. Because while it might feel like a compliment to you, unsolicited comments about my appearance feel intrusive and threatening. And honestly, you’re not the first guy to try that line on me today. I know that my hair is really bright and noticeable, but please stop using it as an opening to try to get my attention. It’s tired, bro. You’re not original.
When I’m not emphatically grateful that you complimented my hair when I never asked you to, it doesn’t mean I’m a bitch. It just means that I don’t appreciate comments from dudes about what I look like. Especially random dudes on the street that I don’t know. Please consider what it feels like for me. I’m just trying to go about my day, and men that I don’t know keep interrupting me to tell me that I’m pretty or my hair is nice. I am immediately on guard, because I’m not sure what response you’re going to be looking for, and if I give the wrong one, sometimes you guys get angry. And I feel frightened. Therefore, I dread any interaction with dudes on the street because I don’t know how they’re going to end.
And I know this might seem odd to you, but I actually don’t dye my hair because I “want attention” or because I care what anyone thinks about it. This might seem hard to believe, but I actually dye my hair these bright colors for myself. I know! Shocking, right? Not all women’s behaviors are done with the end goal of appealing to men. My hair makes me happy and I dye it for my own enjoyment. Not yours.
The other thing that happens when you use this very distinct thing about my appearance as an opening, is that you assume that I want your attention. You also assume that I’m single, despite the ring on my finger that indicates that I’m not. You also assume that I’m straight, and interested in being hit on by a dude. And, of course, you assume that you’re entitled to my attention or conversation. And I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you’re not.
So please, do me a favor. The next time you want to tell me, or some other girl, how much you like our hair, please don’t. Because even if your intentions are good, I don’t know that. And really, if you want to make me happy, allowing me to go through my day uninterrupted would make me a hell of a lot happier than you “complimenting” my appearance.
In closing, I’d just like to reiterate that I DON’T GIVE A FUUUUCK IF YOU LIKE MY HAIR.