Not once did it occur to me that I would live in the shoes of a cancer victim for a few months of my teenage years. To clarify, I did not have literal cancer, but rather, a figurative cancer. It also never occurred to me that my decision to buzz off my entire head of luscious hair would lead people to treat me in such a drastically different manner. My original intention for my bold decision was to donate my hair to make a wig for a cancer victim as a gift during the holiday season. Real-hair wigs are very costly and often not easy to come by; having been able to gift someone with my temporary sacrifice was, and still is, so precious to me.

I was a very experimental and spontaneous person in high school. I arguably still am. In high-school I was constantly trying to change one aspect of my life or another out of boredom from my same daily routine. One day I got creative (and very bored) and ended up trying a new “lightening hair shampoo.” It was advertised to “bring out the natural highlights” in ones hair. Needless to say, it did not bring out the highlights in my hair, rather, it turned my hair a copper color. My hair was still pretty-looking (although a bit thinner and now a different color), but quite frankly, I did not like the results of this spontaneous decision. I wanted to start fresh and I wanted to help someone.

At the time, I had known several people who were suffering with cancer: some who had even passed away as a result of the debilitating illness. Every single one of my acquaintances, friends, and family members with cancer had struggled to find a wig that was not incredibly costly in the past. Chemotherapy and hospital bills dig deep holes in the pockets of all victims. An (estimated) two thousand dollar wig, is yet another expense that many simply can’t afford. To be able to gift someone with hair, at no extra cost to their already shallow pocket, would be such an incredible experience, because it would bring light to their world and make them feel more “normal.”

I made the decision during the November of my junior year in high school. Christmas was around the corner, and unfortunately the cure for cancer was (and still is) not. As previously mentioned, at the time, I knew many people battling with cancer. I have been so blessed by my friends and family throughout my life. It meant the world to me to be able to give back to the world in any meaningful way that I could. Looking back, I’m not certain what finally propelled me to make that decision to buzz off all of my lengthy hair. I took so long contemplating the idea prior to making the decision in the first place. However, I did know one thing. I knew that I had something very valuable that a cancer victim was likely desperate for. Everyone wants to feel “normal.” My temporary sacrifice could give a suffering person the precious Christmas gift of hair, which comes with a sense of normality, through the completion of the persons battle.

That November evening, thoughts ran wildly through my head. I knew that if I asked my parents for permission to buzz off all of my hair, they would either say “no,” or fight me on it for quite some time before agreeing. What parent would possibly want to see their child looking like a cancer patient when that child didn’t even have cancer? None. I was extremely nervous but also really excited for the change. The only way I was able to justify the decision I was about to make was by reminding myself how much it would benefit the person in need. I didn’t think my parents would become angered with me given I was going to do it for a great cause. At the worst, I expected a lecture followed by their expressions of pride for the selfless decision. In this case and at that time, I knew that it would be far better to ask for forgiveness and understanding rather than to ask for permission.

At the time, I had been employed at “Starbucks” for less than a week. I arrived at the salon emotionally prepared, but also extremely nervous for the social-battle I was about to subject myself to. My stomach tossed and turned as I nervously waited my turn. I contemplated what it would feel like to have a shiny head, how people would view me, if I would lose my new job, how my parents would react, how my high school peers would respond and treat me, if I would get expelled from my Catholic high school for not adhering to the hair dress-code guidelines for females, but most of all, how much of a difference I was about to make in the life of a suffering person. Finally, and in quite a blur, my name was called. I met the “stylist” and took my seat. She asked, “What can I do for you today?” With a quivering voice I replied, “Buzz it all off… completely bald. I want to donate all of it.” The look on her face made me question my decision even more than I already was. I doubt a girl had ever come to her asking to be shaved completely bald before. I could tell by the shocked expression on her face that my request must have been out of the ordinary for her.

In a matter of moments she had acquired the attention of two other hair stylists who both interrogated me with confusion. They asked about my intentions and questioned me as to whether or not I was “sure” about my decision. They must have asked me ten times. I was more sure than I had ever been. I was ready to give that gift, despite the ridicule I was apt to receive from strangers, family, friends and other loved ones. But after-all, what could my family, friends and loved ones possibly say once the decision had been made? Nothing. It’s not like I could grow back my full head of hair in thirty seconds. I assured the hairdressers about my intentions and a few seconds later I heard the first chop of the scissors. There was no turning back now.

In a matter of minutes it was all gone. All of it. They did not charge me to donate it, because they said it was an “admirable” thing to do. They mentioned that they had never experienced someone doing what I had just done before. This new adventure was exhilarating, yet also terrifying. I knew I had made the right decision, but my stomach continued to churn with every “what if?” thought that crossed my mind. By the end of the big-chop, my head felt as light as hair and my scalp was very shiny from the reflections of the ceiling lights. Later, I often joked that “my scalp was brighter than many people’s futures.” I was bald-bald, but I felt so incredibly liberated. I was liberated from the hair and from all of my doubts about the bold decision I had just made. I left the salon crying “happy tears.” Looking back however, I am certain that some of those “happy tears” were also tears out of fear for the social-judgements and the unknown reactions I was yet to face.

I left the salon with certainty that the people getting their drinks from me in the Starbucks drive-through would see themselves in the reflection created by my shiny head peeking out of my work-hat. Needless to say, I put on my hat and apron, and went straight to work. I sat in the parking lot for several minutes and I texted my parents a long message accompanied by a picture of me (holding my hair in a pony tail un-attached from my head), telling them about the decision I had just made. They originally thought that I was pulling a joke on them like I normally did, so when it hit them that I was actually serious, they were in disbelief. I planned the “big-chop” before my shift at work so that it could give them some time to calm down prior to my arrival back home. I walked into work having no clue what judgements my manager would make. I was hired with a full head of hair, and less than a week later, I showed up bald. I prepared for the worst reaction, but hoped for the best.

My shift went smoothly despite having to answer countless questions. My manager was definitely shocked, but she was not upset with me by any means. I was relieved to find that I would still keep my job, continue to get free coffee to feed my newly-found caffeine addiction, and even still get my pound of free coffee every week. I left the shift emotionally drained due to all of the explaining I had to answer for clients, co-workers, and my manager. However, I still did not regret my decision and I came to terms with the fact that I would have much more explaining to do in following months.

I got in my mini cooper convertible and braced myself to go home. I took the longest route home, yet the drive still flew by. I was so nervous, because I respected (and respect) my parents’ opinions, so it was vital for me to get their approval… or at the very least, their support. I parked my car and slowly opened the door saying, “Guys, I am home!” just like normal. I had mentioned wanting to donate all of my hair multiple times in the past, so I don’t believe that it was a complete shock to them. I believe the shock came with the fact that I actually took action on the idea that I had for such a long time.

I walked inside to find my mother crying at the kitchen table. She replied, “my daughter is really bald,” as she continued to bawl. She was more emotionally bothered by it than I ever was. Moments later my father walked in the room. The first thing that came out of his mouth was, “I have a second son.” At this point, I knew I would get some heat for the decision I made. I did not regret it and I stood firmly by my decision. I calmly explained to them my incentives and why I did not counsel with them before doing it. They were emotionally tossed, but I knew that under all of the emotions of the evening, they would secretly be proud of me once they learned to accept it.

After a few days my parents did accept the idea. They had to. The funny-looks my family gave me didn’t stop for a few weeks, and understandably so. For 16 years they were use to seeing me with a gorgeous mane framing my face as if I was a lion. It was not as if I could glue on the hair I had just buzzed off of my head back on. The way I looked had to be accepted by my friends and family in one regard or another. I must say, it likely did not help that it was November and I my complexion was very pale. I genuinely did look like I had cancer. I think this was the hardest part for my family and friends to get over.

There was no way to reverse what I had done, but quite frankly, I did not want to. The hardest part for me to accept was the constant questions such as, “Are you going through a mental-crisis?,” “Is this your way as coming out as gay?,” and “Why would you ever put yourself through such a terrible thing?.” It was difficult having to justify myself to people, even if they had no relevance in my life. None of it was true. I was not going through any mental-crisis, I sexually identify as a straight female, and I decided that the gift I was able to give was worth the short-term sacrifice I would endure as a result: after-all, hair does grow back.

Two days after the “big chop,” I had to return to school…arguably the most difficult challenge I expected I was going to face. Teens can be brutal. I was dreading it. Being active on social-media, I took a picture of myself (bearing my bald head) and I posted it online the day prior to the start of the school week; I figured that to some degree, I would not have to answer as many questions from my peers if it wasn’t new news. In the caption I explained, yet again, the decision I had made. The following is an excerpt of the captioned accompanying the picture;

“For awhile now I’ve been contemplating the best Christmas gift I could give to someone. Though it was a VERY hard decision, I felt in my heart that blessing a child who has been diagnosed with cancer with a beautiful wig would be an amazing thing to do. I’m proud that I made the decision to shave off all of my hair and donate it to “Locks of Love” so I can better a cancer patient’s life this holiday season. So… upon seeing me at school, work, the gym, etc., please note that I do NOT have cancer, but merely made the conscious decision to endure some suffering for a young cancer patients life to be bettered. Also… Please, if you have nothing nice to say, just keep your thoughts to yourself, because I do not regret my decision.” 

In a matter of hours my post got lots of positive feedback. At this point I realized that there would be no direct negativity that I would receive from my peers at school. This new knowledge still didn’t make me any less nervous.

I arrived at school the next day and automatically received countless questions and glares that I perceived to be rather judgmental at first. I had to keep reminding myself that the sacrifice was worth being able to bless someone… all of the sacrifice was worth it.  Later that day, I went to the gym and managed in the same way. The following weeks were questions-packed. The whole situation was emotionally exhausting. I was expecting negative ridicule, yet shockingly did not receive any! It did take a few days for people to adjust to the sight of the “New Sophia,” but the responses I did receive were all positive and up-lifting. That was such a relief for me.

Less than two weeks later, I inspired five other girls at my high school (from different grade levels than that of myself) to donate a portion of their hair to cancer victims also. Although they did not go completely bald as I did, they did donate to the “Locks of Love Foundation,” for other cancer patients and they too made a significant improvement to people’s lives that holiday season. I also inspired my Aunt to become bone-marrow donor. All people just want to feel normal and respected, and everyone who donated (whether it be hair or bone-marrow) gave suffering individuals that precious Christmas gift. I am eternally grateful for the impact my decision inspired.

I’d reckon to say that the whole experience greatly developed my sense of self-confidence. I no longer had any hair to “hide” behind. I was exposed to the the criticisms and judgments of strangers who did not yet know my story. I developed a “thick-skin” in that, with time, those judgements, stares and interrogations no longer made me feel insecure. As my hair progressed in its growth, I learned to rock the short-hair “look.” My hair went through numerous funny growth-phases. Months passed where I looked like the “Zoolander,” I looked like I had an afro (which I joking would stick combs into) at one point, at another point I had a bowl-cut, and later I even had a mullet like that of the musician, Joe Dirt. It was funny, really.

The experience taught me that helping those in need, despite social-repercussions, is always worth it, and it taught me to laugh with the people who snark at me. In fact, I think that joking and laughing with the people who judge you is the best way to show them that you are confident in who you are and that you are confident in the decisions you have made up until that point. If anything, it throws them off their game and makes you feel significantly more self-assured. Negative people simply don’t know how to respond to such vitality and positivity. I was blessed to be able to utilize my new-found sense of self-confidence as a tool to inspire others in their own actions of selflessness, and with their own understandings that their selfless actions do come with questioning and ridicule that they need not take too seriously.

Personally speaking, the most interesting aspect of my decision to buzz off my hair for cancer victims was that I ended up unintentionally living in the shoes of a cancer victim (despite the fact that I did not have the life-threatening diagnosis). At times, if I did not have the opportunity to explain myself, I was treated like I had an illness. As previously mentioned I worked at Starbucks at the time. There were several funny incidents where I found my baldness to actually benefit me or teach me a much-needed lesson.

The week after buzzing my hair, I went to work at Starbucks like usual, and I found that my drive-through tip jar had significantly more money than there was the weeks prior to my baldness. The comments and judgmental stares continued, but I was too focused on doing the job I was being payed to do to even notice them. I did not even see people put large bills into the tip jar on the sill outside the drive-through window unless they did so after asking about my story. Barista’s split whatever tips they make according to the number of hours they work in the week. I didn’t realize it till later, but people were putting large bills into the tip jars, because if they did not ask for clarity, they thought I had cancer. When they did ask for clarity, I would tell them about my donation, and most people would still tip me with large bills. Needless to say, my co-workers and shift-leaders loved me working in drive-through for quite some time.

With the topics of societal reactions aside for a moment, living life in the shoes of a cancer “victim” definitely had both its ups and downs. I never had cancer and it was exhausting explaining myself to everyone I crossed paths with. It was difficult to learn to make light of stares and remarks from judgmental people. Being selfless is not the norm. As a result, it was emotionally draining for me to acquire understanding from family and friends that I was not “going through a phase:” to prove to them that my intentions were concrete and genuine. Overall, I received lots of support and kind words from family, friends, and strangers. I earned lots of tips from people who supported my donation to the cancer cause. My self confidence drastically sky-rocketed as I learned to embrace the funky mop-resembling hair flopping around my head at times. I was able to inspire others to donate to the betterment of suffering peoples lives, which was (and is) so priceless to me. The lessons I learned during this time were so crucial in the development of the person I am today.

For one, I learned that it is better to ask for forgiveness than it is to ask for permission: that is, only if there is no risk of another person being harmed in the process. If I would have asked for my family or friends’ permission, rather than their forgiveness and their understanding, I wouldn’t have learned the valuable lessons I did, and (more importantly), I wouldn’t have been able to donate my hair to improve a persons quality of life. Secondly, I learned that temporary self-sacrifice for the benefit of a suffering person gets you positive attention, not negative judgement. It built my self-confidence immensely in that it taught me how to have a “thick-skin” and stand up for the decisions I make. It also proved to me that society as a whole does want to see the good of the world, and it wants to see people doing good for others in the world. Lastly, I learned about the social and emotional struggle actual cancer patients go through on a daily basis, through stepping into the shoes of a person with cancer. I learned this through explaining my story to almost every passing person. It was emotionally difficult on me. Strangers would approach me and ask me things such as, “what is wrong with you?,” “what happened to you?,” and “are you dying?”

After some time of being asked questions such as these, I couldn’t help but almost feel as if I really did have cancer and that I really was dying. The general public can be so blunt and unfiltered when it comes to communicating. Although I made light of my experience dealing with judgmental (and supportive) people, it impacted me in ways I feel no other experience could have. I found that an important lesson I learned during this time was to be sensitive with what I say. If a person was actually suffering with the life-threatening illness, I could only imagine the impact peoples words could have on a persons spirit who is actually fighting for their life. Society as a whole needs to be more sensitive and kind. It is important for us to be filtered and supportive of suffering people, instead of being judgmental and blunt with our words. We should put our concerns regarding the opinions of others aside, because in the end, our short-term personal sacrifice can improve the quality of a persons life. That is so incredibly precious. We need to be more selfless, because one act of selflessness inspires several others to do the same.