I feel reborn as the new me – but the right me (Picture: Jawadat Bashorun)
They don’t spin you around to face the mirror like in the movies, but every time my barber lifts the apron off my shoulders, it feels like a dramatic reveal.
I almost have to resist the urge to burst out into jubilant laughter when I see my freshly-faded sides and my formerly unruly flurry of curls rested in neat(er) ringlets.
I feel reborn as the new me – but the right me. And I always leave with a spring in my step.
They say a fresh trim at the barber is the makeup for men – especially as a trans man. It’s the makeover we always wanted, while you’re surrounded by the brothers.
Before I ‘came out’, I used to get a haircut at my aunt’s hair salon. I spent most of my life female-presenting with a rather unimaginative plait that draped down my back and reached my hips.
The three hours it took to wash, blow dry and straighten the unruly afro didn’t leave me with much enthusiasm for styling.
In 2017, aged 25, the realisation that life is short and that I shouldn’t care about societal pressures was the wake-up call I needed to live a life as close to my true self as possible.
So around five years ago, I started socially transitioning, meaning I started to change my external appearance from that of a man. Well, boy, because I had the frame of a teenager who hadn’t hit puberty.
Then, after a year of hustling to fund my private healthcare – including paid consulting work, producing documentaries and delivering speeches – I could afford my gender dysphoria diagnosis and was finally able to complete the paperwork to start testosterone.
The most noticeable change wasn’t physical – it was happiness (Picture: Jawadat Bashorun)
I had to go private because the NHS waiting time for the first gender-affirming appointment in the UK was three to five years, so I just couldn’t wait that long.
Within a week on testosterone, my voice dropped. This was a breath of fresh air because I had previously become quieter as my voice was incredibly triggering for me. Since then, my face shape changed slowly (it was more angular), hair started growing thicker on my face and chest, my hourglass curves filled-in gradually, and my muscle mass increased.
I would say the most noticeable change wasn’t physical – it was happiness.
Four years after starting testosterone, I saved up enough for my top surgery – the full £8,000. Looking back now, the journey seems a tad surreal, but I was determined to be myself. It was empowering.
Looking back now, the journey seems a tad surreal, but I was determined to be myself (Picture: Oxford Union)
Alongside all of this, my first gender-affirming trim after coming out took me all the way from South London across town to Open Barbers in Hackney, a queer barber shop with a ‘pay what you can’ model so people from all incomes can enjoy their services.
I made this two-hour journey in 2019 because I looked more feminine without testosterone and I was nervous about going to a typical barber.
As soon as I walked into Open Barber, I noticed that my pronouns were noted down on the wall, which put me right at ease.
Another reason I immediately felt comfortable was because my barber was Black, which meant I wasn’t forced to ask uncomfortable questions about their past experience with different textures and styles.
I was growing more and more into my body, which increased my confidence (Picture: Jawadat Bashorun)
After an hour, I stood up from that chair with my sides freshly shaved and my new-found top knot bun, I really did feel like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Well – quite literally – it had.
The person who looked back at me in the mirror beamed, ears now visible and cheekbones now defined. It was a milestone for me; I felt nothing but relief and freedom.
Then the pandemic hit, so I explored different hairstyles using my dad’s trimmers – like fades (low, mid or high) and my own improvised shape-ups – as I attempted to make my wavy hairline assertive and straight.
Over this time, I was growing more and more into my body, which increased my confidence to feel like I was ready to go to a regular, more traditional barber in my local area in 2021 – and it wasn’t as scary as I thought.
More from Platform
Platform is the home of Metro.co.uk’s first-person and opinion pieces, devoted to giving a platform to underheard and underrepresented voices in the media.
Find some of our best reads of the week below:
Will Castle shares the moment he found out his father had taken his own life from a traffic update on the radio.
Executive Chairman of Iceland Foods, Richard Walker, explains why his family’s company are ditching their Christmas advert this year to help their customers.
Joy Munns’ parents Mavis and Dennis were married for 60 years and very much in love, but when they both tried to kill themselves following Dennis’s terminal diagnosis, Mavis was put on trial for his murder.
And finally, an anonymous bridesmaid recounts being subjected to constant demands by her bridezilla friend. She was left ghosted and with massive bills to pay.
So I kept going back to that barbershop for years.
They noticed as my beard slowly grew and when I ‘lost weight’ after my top surgery – but they were none the wiser. For the first time in my life, I was one of the ‘men’.
I never told them I was trans because, at the time, it was an important lesson for me to prove to myself that I could exist in plain sight. It was also just refreshing to exist in a space where it wasn’t something I needed to discuss or explain to anyone.
I was just me, being me. I existed in plain sight – and my journey of gender affirmation was liberating.
I existed in plain sight – and my journey of gender affirmation was liberating (Picture: UK Black Pride)
Now, I stroll into my local barbershop – one that’s different and even closer to home – for a trim. The journeys across London are now a thing of the past.
It’s true this could be a ‘passibility privilege’ (the idea that trans people face less prejudice when they’re perceived as cisgender) but I exchanged social media with my local barber after a few trims and he didn’t bat an eyelid, as my gender identity is plastered all over my Instagram.
Whenever I go, I give my best fist bump, and we discuss life as he trims my beard.
To anyone who is taking their gender affirmation journey and feels without a paddle, I assure you that more people are accepting than you think.
Yes, even in places like the barber.
Rico Jacob Chace is spearheading the 16th Century trans rights campaign for UK Black Pride – a website where allies can learn more about the trans community, hear their stories and email their MP to show support for trans people to have equal access to healthcare. Find out more on their website here.
Main picture credit: Jawadat Bashorun
Pride and Joy
Pride and Joy is a weekly series spotlighting the first-person positive, affirming and joyful stories of transgender, non-binary, gender fluid and gender non-conforming people. Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing [email protected]
MORE : Restrictions on trans cricket players won’t stop me playing the game I love
MORE : Doctor Who fans hail ‘pure’ David Tennant after powerful statement of support for trans community
MORE : I met my partner online – after one visit, we moved in together
The person who looked back at me in the mirror beamed, ears now visible and cheekbones now defined.
