Before the start of the 2002 Spring semester, I went to a place like Supercuts and received a close-cropped $8 cut in about 4 minutes' time. In the second semester of a Visiting Instructor (= more classes and less pay) position, I made a vow to myself, a pact of the will. I announced to my partner (tenure-track in same department, and really the only reason I had a position at all--so what reason do I have to bitch and moan anyway) that "I will not cut my hair until I have a tenure-track position!"
It has now been three years since I've had a haircut. Many of you will be impressed that I have been diligent in its care, using all sorts of long-and-curly-hair-specific shampoos and conditioners. During this time, my reputation among the students has grown and I've begun to find the return of my writing voice. Like Samson, is my vow the key to my power? Is the academy my Delilah? Will giving myself over completely to the academy result in a betrayal. Will I end up having my eyes burned out with hot pokers, chained to a grist mill? Is that what I want so badly?
OK, so that's a bit dramatic. I guess my point is that these little superstitious choices can take on a narrative life of their own, spinning into the fabulous, the ridiculous, or the comic.
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I laughed when I read this because I am always trying to convince my male friends to grow their hair long. At conferences when I see a male professor with long hair, I always think, oh, he must be a creative wriing type or an environmental activist or someone who doesn't want to be part of the establishment. You'd be surprised at how often the image matches the man.
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