I am changing my hair to brown tomorrow.

Doing this will be like castrating myself with a sharpened stick.  I do not think I have the vocabulary to describe how shitty it makes me feel.  And that is why I chose brown.

I never thought the kid who’s first phrase was “You’re not the boss of me” would ever be bending over for “tha man”.

I feel like a sell-out; a fake; a fraud; a liar.  I speak so much of breaking the norms in our society that I feel are wrong, but yet here I am changing my hair color so some person with stereotypes won’t judge me as immature or unprofessional because of the color I choose to have my hair.

I hate stereotypes.  I hate myself for feeding the stereotypes by changing my hair color.  I hate that they will never know.
I am sure I will read posts saying, “well isn’t a job more important than your hair color?”, “we need to choose our battles”, “loosing this battle does not mean that you will loose the war”, along with many other ancient Chinese proverbs.

My hair color is me.  It represents all I want to fight for.  I don’t have a choice in this battle if I want any employment (Hot Topic never called me back after the interview if you recall from the beginning of the year).  And yes, every battle lost is another step backwards in the war effort.