I haven’t had a haircut since I was in the States because our schedule has been jam-packed, so my cute pixie cut kind of morphed into the bowl ‘do of Lloyd Christmas in Dumb and Dumber. I am due for a cut.
I went to two hair salons the other day, and they both refused service. One hair stylist was afraid I’d get mad if she messed up and the other hair stylist refused to enable my masculine life choices. So I decided to just grow out my hair. Having my hair a certain length didn’t mean the world to me, and I wanted to get along with community members.
During a particularly hot day a week later, I shed a layer of clothing and was clad in only a tank top and pants in my host family’s home. While I usually donned this relaxed attire in the States under cooler circumstances, it felt inappropriate to show so much skin after having been trained for the past two months to cover almost everything.
After an uncomfortable ten minutes watching television with my host family, I felt completely obliged to run to my closet and cover my collarbones and elbows. I strive for integration but seemed to have erred on the side of assimilation.
Conforming to culturally appropriate hairstyles and sacrificing physical comfort kind of scared me. Was I integrating too much to this culture? I don’t want to integrate to the point of turning my back on American privileges. When will I find that balance of incorporating both cultures into my daily routine?
During a particularly hot day a week later, I shed a layer of clothing and was clad in only a tank top and pants in my host family’s home. While I usually donned this relaxed attire in the States under cooler circumstances, it felt inappropriate to show so much skin after having been trained for the past two months to cover almost everything.
After an uncomfortable ten minutes watching television with my host family, I felt completely obliged to run to my closet and cover my collarbones and elbows. I strive for integration but seemed to have erred on the side of assimilation.
Conforming to culturally appropriate hairstyles and sacrificing physical comfort kind of scared me. Was I integrating too much to this culture? I don’t want to integrate to the point of turning my back on American privileges. When will I find that balance of incorporating both cultures into my daily routine?
I realize that because I’m so used to covering my body here that I now stare at my Ibu’s cleavage and knees when they show. I look like such a perv, but I’m really experiencing shock at such audacity. And that pervy moment is when I realize I need to figure out this whole integration thing. I mean if my Ibu can show some skin, shouldn’t I also be able to? If she can integrate and find that balance between her culture and her physical needs, I should be able to, too.
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