“Once I spoke about my sexual fluidity, people were like, ‘So you’re gay,'” she explains. “And I’m like, ‘No, I’m not gay…’ A lot of the friends I have who are straight have such an old way of thinking. It’s, ‘so you’re just gay, right?’ [They] don’t understand it.”

“I thought changing something on the outside would change the wrecked ruin of me on the inside. I thought somehow the inside would get a memo from my outside and get into shape. It didn’t, but my hair is the first way I was able to gain autonomy over my body.”

I think you could style your hair like Dolly Parton and people on Kentucky front porches and in Kentucky truck beds would still call you a dyke in that horrible ugly tone that only bigots can growl with.

If you ever want to start cutting your hair, you might as well look for advice. Nothing helps you learn faster than an anxiety-ridden narration.

Remember what it felt like to finally stop wishing you were straight? Well, we’re in the same boat. Only this time it’s not us we’re talking about, it’s our hair.

Remember what it felt like to finally stop wishing you were straight? Well, we’re in the same boat. Only this time it’s not us we’re talking about, it’s our hair.

You may not know it yet, but trust me when I say the afro is perfectly suited to your gay lifestyle and agenda.

A 25-year-old lesbian hairstylist will be competing in the Miss Long Island pageant in a purple tuxedo and hand-sewn boyshorts. Kinda awesome, right?