The cost of conformity

When my lecturer yelled, "If you bring that hair back to my office, I won't attend to you," I knew she meant business. She was one of the strictest in my department, and while most of the other lecturers never minded my hair since I always kept it combed and neat, this particular woman seemed to have a serious problem with it. Her irritation was clear, and I didn’t want to risk any issues with her course.

Stepping outside, I thought long and hard about my options. Keeping my hair meant appearing stubborn, and that could backfire during the semester. Reluctantly, I decided it was best to trim it down. I walked to the nearest barbershop, sat in the chair, and told the barber to make it low. It felt like a small price to pay for peace with my lecturer, but little did I know it would open a whole new set of problems.

The reactions were immediate and brutal. My friends and classmates couldn’t stop teasing me. They said I looked like a monkey, a new primary school student, and even a newly admitted boarding school kid. The taunts came from everywhere. People weren’t used to seeing me with a low cut, and honestly, I wasn’t used to it either. It was embarrassing, but I had to endure their jokes and awkward stares for the next two months until exams were over.

From that experience, I made a decision: never again. No matter who complains or what the stakes are, I’ve sworn to keep my hair. That semester taught me more than just academics, it taught me the cost of trying to please everyone.