Homecoming
Dec. 18th, 2001 02:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rinueIt is the fondest wish of every scientist to have a phenomenon named after him. We may not know much about Avegadro, but we all learn about his number. No one today studies the music of the spheres and the strange mathematical cults outside of Athens, but everyone knows Pythagorus's theorem. Although Amerigo Vespucci was an unremarkable Italian mapmaker, his name was preserved indefinitely when he scrawled it across a new continent.
Within my circles, there are numerous incidences named after friends of mine. An example is the Romie Contradiction: "This situation is both entirely your fault and not something you had any control over." Another is the Scarlett Also, named after my cousin; rather like a picardy third, it is a way of ending an essay with a comic sentence only tenuously related to the thesis. Perhaps most famously, there exists something named after Valancy, the Dodge Theory of Hair Length. I have referred to it during serious academic debates, and it has been accepted as a well-substantiated part of the curriculum. This, I feel, is testament enough to Val's brilliance.
The theory is as follows:
You may have noticed that women almost always cut their hair during times of stress, such as the end of a relationship. The leading theory, often taught in biology classes, is that the women are attempting to make themselves more attractive to potential mates. Whenever it is suggested by a professor, everyone nods sagely and comments that they'd thought so all along.
This theory is crap.
To begin with, while the hair change may occur at the end of a relationship, it may also happen during some other kind of stressful period, such as a difficult job assignment. It could be posited that attractiveness would increase the chances of success, but (a) there would then be no reason that the phenomenon would be constrained to women and (b) most straight men would say they find long hair more appealing.
The more you think about it, the more you realize it's an idiotic theory. It was probably invented by a male biologist who never came to grips with the fact that in most non-human species it is the male who preens and tries to attract the female.
The Dodge Theory, on the other hand, makes a great deal more sense.
When women wish to be powerful, they put their hair up. This is partially sociological; hair is worn up both at formal dances and in the workplace. Hair worn down is more casual, and almost girlish; in some cultures, the first braiding of the hair is an important rite of passage. It is also practical: When there is an important motor task to be done, (from fighting to cooking,) hair must be kept out of the way.
When a woman's hair is cut short, that means it is always up. She is always ready to fight, always on the alert. When women need to be powerful, they cut their hair -- the shorter the cut, the more the need to be powerful.
I change my hair fairly often. It's inevitable when you come from a family of hairstylists and performers. For the past year and a half, I've been trying to grow my hair out, sort of as a dare to myself. It's not that I haven't had long hair before; I even like the way it looks. It just never lasts long.
This time, I managed a half-inch past shoulder length before taking a pair of kitchen scissors to it.
I can almost hear the people around me breathing sighs of relief.
"You're just meant to have a pixie cut," says my sister Arielle, and I have to agree with her. I fight against it for the sake of variety, but I know the Truth of it. "You look like a fairy; you just do. An urban guerilla fairy. Thin, pale, and androgynous. Like Bowie. No matter what you wear, you will always be glam."
I look in the mirror, and I do look like me, which is wonderful -- I'd almost forgotten what I looked like. In place of rippling blond hair, there are cheekbones, green eyes, and a delicate jawline. My expressions fit my features again; I make eye contact when I talk and I stand at my full height. My movements are decisive, almost balletic. I am striking; I am ageless instead of old. I grin easily; wherever I stand in a room, all conversation is directed to me.
"Welcome back," said Kristina, my oldest friend. "Not that you didn't look beautiful the other way, but. . . You look like you again."
Within my circles, there are numerous incidences named after friends of mine. An example is the Romie Contradiction: "This situation is both entirely your fault and not something you had any control over." Another is the Scarlett Also, named after my cousin; rather like a picardy third, it is a way of ending an essay with a comic sentence only tenuously related to the thesis. Perhaps most famously, there exists something named after Valancy, the Dodge Theory of Hair Length. I have referred to it during serious academic debates, and it has been accepted as a well-substantiated part of the curriculum. This, I feel, is testament enough to Val's brilliance.
The theory is as follows:
You may have noticed that women almost always cut their hair during times of stress, such as the end of a relationship. The leading theory, often taught in biology classes, is that the women are attempting to make themselves more attractive to potential mates. Whenever it is suggested by a professor, everyone nods sagely and comments that they'd thought so all along.
This theory is crap.
To begin with, while the hair change may occur at the end of a relationship, it may also happen during some other kind of stressful period, such as a difficult job assignment. It could be posited that attractiveness would increase the chances of success, but (a) there would then be no reason that the phenomenon would be constrained to women and (b) most straight men would say they find long hair more appealing.
The more you think about it, the more you realize it's an idiotic theory. It was probably invented by a male biologist who never came to grips with the fact that in most non-human species it is the male who preens and tries to attract the female.
The Dodge Theory, on the other hand, makes a great deal more sense.
When women wish to be powerful, they put their hair up. This is partially sociological; hair is worn up both at formal dances and in the workplace. Hair worn down is more casual, and almost girlish; in some cultures, the first braiding of the hair is an important rite of passage. It is also practical: When there is an important motor task to be done, (from fighting to cooking,) hair must be kept out of the way.
When a woman's hair is cut short, that means it is always up. She is always ready to fight, always on the alert. When women need to be powerful, they cut their hair -- the shorter the cut, the more the need to be powerful.
I change my hair fairly often. It's inevitable when you come from a family of hairstylists and performers. For the past year and a half, I've been trying to grow my hair out, sort of as a dare to myself. It's not that I haven't had long hair before; I even like the way it looks. It just never lasts long.
This time, I managed a half-inch past shoulder length before taking a pair of kitchen scissors to it.
I can almost hear the people around me breathing sighs of relief.
"You're just meant to have a pixie cut," says my sister Arielle, and I have to agree with her. I fight against it for the sake of variety, but I know the Truth of it. "You look like a fairy; you just do. An urban guerilla fairy. Thin, pale, and androgynous. Like Bowie. No matter what you wear, you will always be glam."
I look in the mirror, and I do look like me, which is wonderful -- I'd almost forgotten what I looked like. In place of rippling blond hair, there are cheekbones, green eyes, and a delicate jawline. My expressions fit my features again; I make eye contact when I talk and I stand at my full height. My movements are decisive, almost balletic. I am striking; I am ageless instead of old. I grin easily; wherever I stand in a room, all conversation is directed to me.
"Welcome back," said Kristina, my oldest friend. "Not that you didn't look beautiful the other way, but. . . You look like you again."
