Haircuts assume that hair should not be left to simply grow. Hair, like a garden, requires tending, pruning (in some cases), added nutrients, and shaping. Hair matters.

Haircuts assume that the way in which we groom ourselves can reflect our aesthetic sensibilities.

Haircuts assume that people should have well-tended coifs.

Thinking about this topic, I’m fascinated by what I can (and can’t) figure out about the importance of hair in the culture of 1960s mainstream America. For men, having long hair (and it didn’t have to be very long at all—who now would describe the Ed-Sullivan-Show-era Beatles’ hair as “long”?) was a deeply transgressive, and for some, infuriating act.

My favorite of these 5 Q’s… haircuts make it possible to feel like one has a fresh start, to imitate one’s favorite celebrity (a few in my history include the Dorothy Hamill, the Carol Brady, and the Jennifer Aniston (known to stylists as simply, “the Jennifer”). Haircuts make possible a whole new look - from the hippie braids to the pixie cut, the military high-and-tight to the haute-couture “bed head.” A new haircut can make a whole new mood possible (for better or for worse).

And another thing… haircuts make it possible to make cross-cultural connections. A few years back, in my very multi-ethnic church, I was eager to connect with some younger girls who were coming for youth group. We didn’t quite find our groove until, on a whim, I said I wanted to have my hair cornrowed, something that most of them had had since they were old enough to have hair! So the girls polled one another to see who was the best one for the task, scrounged up some rubber bands, and the next I knew, I was sitting in a chair in the lobby having my white girls hair cornrowed. Something about having this girl put her hands on my head and begin the intimate connection of painstakingly (and quite painfully!) braiding my hair tightly against my head resulted in a sudden bridging of the cultural divide. My silky, straight hair was unique to her, and she had some good laughs about how it kept sliding out of her grip. By the end of the evening, we had connected in a way that made friendship between a white girl from southwestern Virginia and a mixed-race girl from the West Brighton Projects much more feasible.

Uncut hair, of course! But seriously, haircuts make it impossible for one’s hairstyle, even if it is unkempt and uncut, to be a neutral, natural thing. Especially in an era where (for guys at least) “bed head” is in fact a carefully achieved, much-fussed-over statement of personal style, you can’t even just roll out of bed without positioning yourself along the continuum of possible hairstyles.

As noted by Twitter follower @dmonkster, haircuts have made possible the widely acclaimed recent movie Good Hair—a whole hair documentary! Also, of course, in the same vein, the marvelous movie Barbershop, which includes a marvelous set piece of a white barber with a somewhat conflicted racial identity giving his black colleague a fantastic cut and thus winning trust. I’m sure movie fans will chime in with more . . .

The salon culture, where you can have an espresso or, in some cases, glass of champagne while you wait for your appointment. The barbershop culture which Andy already referenced, and which is still very much alive and well especially among men in African American communities. The haircut-in-a-box culture, i.e. the McDonald’s of hair salons, i.e. SuperCuts, which I have never had good results with. And the braiding salons, where you can have cornrows or extensions while catching up on the latest neighborhood gossip (my only experience with cornrows was from a girl in my church’s community, who declared that I am “tender-headed,” because of how many times I complained of how painful it was).

This past week I was at a fairly intergenerational meeting, and observed a humorous sight in the men’s room: men over 50 coming in and making sure their hair was perfectly combed, men under 30 coming in and making sure their hair was perfectly messed up. :)

As a missionary kid living in the Ivory Coast I once asked a young woman how she liked my haircut.  She had no idea what I meant or how to answer me.  For her, cutting hair was purely a practical matter and not an aesthetic consideration.  Her hairstyle (or lack thereof) was not part of her “appearance.”  Nor was it part of her culture.  Was she missing out?  Or better off?