Boredom as Beauty
Boredom as beauty
by heather thorn
photos by lauren mallett
I’m not sure when I first conceptualized the color purple. It might have been raining, I could have had my eyes closed, it may have been accidental. What I do know is the first outfit my parents dressed me in as a baby was purple. Faced with identical twins, they planned to tell my sister and I apart by color until we grew into our features and earned distinctive qualities. From there on out, my twin sister was given pink outfits and I was designated purple.
There’s not much to say about what it’s like to be a twin, or maybe there is. People ask me all the time, but the truth is I myself want to know what it’s like to not be a twin. Ever since I was a child, all I remember is having no individuality. My whole life I have been seen as only one pea in a pod, half of a set, a fraction of a duo. I have been called my sister’s name, Julia, countless times over the last nineteen years, to the point that I’ve learned to respond to it as my own. Correcting people is not a chore but a way of life; I have become used to the inconvenience of looking exactly like my sister.
There’s a framed photograph of me on picture day in first grade hanging in my family’s home. Dressed in purple, I look as awkward as possible with a weird half smile on my face. Although I’ve come to love the color purple, it wasn’t always like that . Purple was something predetermined for me: a designated color to dress in so that people would know which twin I was. As the purple twin, I learned to accept my identity as both a fraction and a color. Perhaps I knew even then that I would never completely be my own person but instead always be viewed as someone in the context of another.
The first time I felt a sense of belonging and individuality was when I dyed my hair at the ripe age of seventeen. Truth be told, I was completely fed up with being mistaken for my sister every day at school. I was slowly falling apart from the one thing I’d been my whole life: an identical twin. Searching for ways to distinguish myself, I decided to dye my hair. It felt natural because hair grows back, making it an accessible change for most people who may wish for a more temporary change. So, stuck between bleach and a hard place, I dyed my hair a vivid color.
By vivid color, I, of course, mean the one color I’d been designated my entire life: purple. Dying my whole head of hair purple was my opportunity to reclaim the thing I’d been told to be my whole life. Rather than a color forced on me, it became a color chosen by me. This distinction made all the difference and even altered my fashion style as I became more comfortable with varying forms of self-expression.
A few months after the first time I dyed my hair purple, I ended up going back to my natural hair color in an attempt to stand out less. I had a wonderful experience with purple hair, but wasn’t sure I wanted to be so distinct. It didn’t sit right with me that I needed vivid hair in order for people to get my name right. While returning to brown hair felt like regressing, I needed to return to my roots (literally) to realize that I didn’t need a specific hair color to be able to express myself. Instead, I learned that hair color is simply one tool in which I can let my individuality shine.
Thinking about the twists and turns of my own hair journey, I reached out to a few Emerson students about their experimentation with different hair colors. Liv Mazzola, class of ‘27, said of her first time dying her hair vividly this past May: “It made me really happy because it’s something I’ve wanted to do for a while… it just makes me happy.” For Liv and myself, hair color serves as a physical outlet of emotion and a chance to self-express certain characteristics of ourselves that we otherwise would not be able to.
Anabelle Rosenberger, also class of ‘27, first dyed her hair in fourth grade when she colored it pink and purple. Since then, she’s had blue tips, parts of it pink, complete purple, blonde, vibrant red (followed by a long string of faded reds), blonde, and orange and blonde. When she started dying her hair it signified “a new era of clothing” and fashion style dependent on the color. For some people, changing one’s hair color may often feel like a new beginning or an opportunity to reinvent oneself. Now, however, Anabelle has come to terms with her sense of style and is comfortable dressing the way she wants regardless of her hair color, which still remains a crucial part of her identity.
Bel Attenberg, class of ‘27, first dyed their hair in sixth grade but did it for a completely different reason than they do it now. Of their hair journey, Bel said, “...in my earlier years, it was to express a sense of creativity first and foremost.” Expression is meaningful to Bel, and now they focus on dying their hair in a selective and thoughtful process: “It isn’t just putting dye onto my hair to be someone else… I’m doing it to be me.”
Hair color serves as a vehicle that I and many other people use as a tool to express ourselves. As a natural form of self-expression, hair offers a sense of control amidst a turbulent world and often may feel like the only outlet available for people due the impermanence of hair dye. My last few words of wisdom are this: if you’re thinking of dying your hair, do it! There’s nothing like embodying a color and expressing your unending creativity and individuality.