REJECTION
by Robin Shwedo
©: Robin Shwedo, 1995
The day I dyed my hair blue,
I was asked “why?” more than once.
Always, I’d answer, “Felt like it.”
Of course, it’s much more complex,
but what it boils down to is this:
Rejection.
Being way different is hard enough,
the biggest fear being that
No One Will Like You.
However,
give someone something they can latch onto:
Dye your hair blue,
wear combat boots with your dress,
and people can immediately give you a reason
you can laugh at.
It’s never you they’re rejecting you for,
it’s the fact that you have blue hair.
At least this way,
you can always pretend
“When the dye wears off,
then they’ll accept me.”
It’s easier to be rejected for deliberate ways
then things you can’t change.
This was written shortly after the second or third time I'd dyed the ends of my hair midnight blue. The first time, my oldest son had brought home some blue hair dye from the Ybor City section of Tampa, Florida, then decided he wasn't going to use the dye.
"You use it, Mom," he told me. "Don't worry, it washes out after a week or two."
At the time, I'd had a guy whose path crossed mine a couple of times a week who was more interested in me than I was in him. Finally, I told him to back off or I'd dye my hair blue.
"You do that, I'll never speak with you again!" he proclaimed. I wished I'd gotten it in writing, because the next day, when he saw me with the blue ends on my hair, he decided, "Somehow, on you, it just works!" Fortunately, I did manage to dissuade him.
Others, though, occasionally found the hair, um, too different. I did finally quit dying the ends of my hair after maybe half-a-dozen dyings...
This poem is part of Revolutionary Broads and Other Nightmares, which is looking for a publishing home.
