My Gender Affirming Haircut Looks Like Whatever I Want It To (2024)

The first time I asked a hairstylist to shave my head, she refused. Instead, she tied my hair into a ponytail, chopped a chunk off, and sliced close and closer to my scalp, checking each segment to see if it was short enough. As I peered into the mirror, I saw that her version of my hair was a feminized version. It seemed as if shaving the head of me, who to her was a seemingly female-bodied person, induced a bit of anxiety. So we met in the middle, and I left the salon not with a buzzcut, but a longer top and short sides. It was discouraging, but I was also slightly pleased that most of the femme me was gone… from my head, at least.

I didn’t shave my head just to look androgynous, though that did feel good. Rather I wanted to de-socialize the gender prescribed to me, one that was untethered to my authentic self. My gender journey required the peeling of layers, and reaching deeper levels of self-reckoning to face my inner reality. Gender begins with one’s soul or one’s interior life before it manifests into a hairstyle. That's why a so-called non-binary haircut doesn't have to be just a buzzcut or something deemed “androgynous” — it has the potential to look any which way, and beyond.

Weeks after that initial attempt, I finally got my first buzz cut from an Italian barbershop in Brooklyn. I did not walk out more gender queer than when I entered. I understand that it would appear that way on a visual level. But the source of my gender identity is a quiet space between me and me.

Our hairstyles allow us to converse with society, state who we are, what we like, and occasionally what we want. When I first shaved my head, the overall response was, "Oh, [dead name] is a lesbian." No and yes. I was opening myself pansexually, but my new hair also gave me a fresh perspective. My gender expression finally felt true to my inner being.

For many queer individuals, how we express ourselves to the world can affirm our entire lives. But with that, it can also threaten our safety. Within the first month of shaving my head, I received as many confused looks as I did smiles and congratulatory nods — as well as disgruntled opinions from the men who frequented the bar I worked at. I believe my experience is less than nothing compared to the number of Black trans lives lost every year due to their self-expression.

Changing my hair came with changing my name, but did either of those elements truly make me non-binary? Cutting my hair allowed what I was feeling inside to physicalize, but it did not define my queerness. Today, I have a mullet, and I feel more non-binary than I did with a shaved head, even though shaved I looked more stereotypically "androgynous."

This is partly due to the time I've had to marinate in my queer authenticity. Also, the mullet is an ideal symbol of embracing the masculine and feminine: business (guy) in the front, party (chick) in the back. My favorite aspect of being non-binary is not the "non" but rather an embracement of both genders. As queer author Alok V Menon perfectly put it in an essay, "Being non-binary is about embracing my fluidity, my becoming, my journey without fixed destination."

It takes courage, even risk, to allow your gender expression to show in your hair (or name, or clothes), but one hairstyle doesn't make a person non-binary. The choices I made for myself will not be the same for another non-binary person. Hair is an external, vital element of queer identity, but it is not the whole. A queer look invites the world into our identity, but it does not define one's queerness. To gain a deeper perspective, I spoke with two queer hairstylists and four others who have found gender affirmation through their haircuts.

B Paul, they/he, hairstylist

B Paul is currently out of the hair game and fighting cancer. But he was a stylist in New York for two decades, spending five years working in Dallas before that. He was an owner of the hybrid tattoo/hair salon Graceland in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. (B Paul is also my partner.)

A gender non-conforming cut is usually something that's ahead in fashion, something that takes quite a few years to reach the cisgender, hetero world. It can be extreme in angles. It's a haircut that you will notice on the street if it is done well. Right now, that would be the mullet, which is coming back from the early 2000s, which back then was pulled from the late '70s/early '80s. It's all cyclical. One example of a non-binary haircut could be if you're female and you want a haircut traditionally considered male: that automatically takes you out of your assigned binary. A lot of the time, in my experience, assigned male at birth non-binary people grow their hair out, and assigned female at birth individuals shave their heads.

There is an edge to non-binary haircuts. Non-binary haircuts are in-between, which tend to make them more creative. Non-binary people live outside the gender norms, and I think in a way they celebrate that through hairstyles.

I started offering gender-affirming haircuts because I identify as trans, so I was looking for cuts that matched that. It's hard, because even if you go into a barbershop today, a lot of times they will feminize a buzz cut for a female-bodied individual. So I started doing these cuts, because I couldn't find someone else to do them.

I used to do a lot of non-binary vintage hairstyles on men, trans men, lesbians. Pompadours — what I love to call the John Dillinger haircuts, the prohibition haircuts. Mustache grooming, too. I am a big believer in the mustache on men, trans men, and women.

I remember giving a gender-affirming haircut to this one kid in particular named Owen. They were transitioning, they had longer hair, and we took it to a high and tight military look. Their reaction was awesome. To see someone look in the mirror and see who they really are, and seeing them look in the mirror to match how they feel on the inside, is really special.

The more non-binary people come out and are accepted, the more none of that will matter. The younger generation is coming up, and they don't have to pick any boxes for their sexuality, their gender, their haircuts, or clothing. People will be people, hair will be short or long, and not gendered. I personally think it is super exciting that things are changing, that people understand there are spectrums, and it is applied to haircuts. There are two sides, but most people live somewhere in between, and that's a beautiful thing.

Jessie, they/them, NYC hairstylist

I've been a hairstylist for four years in New York, and another four in Richmond, Virginia. Right now I work at Baddies Studio, a queer-owned barbershop in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. I used to work in a really cis-het salon, and it was the same boring haircut over and over. I wasn’t inspired personally or through my work. It was absolutely conscious decision to switch to offering non-binary and queer cuts. Most of the time, I genuinely think what people want, more than a sick haircut, is for someone to actually hear them, see them.

I don't really think any one thing defines a gender-neutral haircut, and I think that's the beauty of it. I do a lot of mullets and shags. As a non-binary person, it feels incredibly healing and emotional to be able to give someone a haircut that makes them feel good in their skin. A lot of my clients started transitioning through quarantine, so I had a lot of people coming in looking to get a style that fitted them better.

One of my favorite experiences was with a trans woman who had never had a professional cut or blowout. She had incredible hair, and I gave her some long layers and a curtain fringe and then a big, bouncy blow out. When I turned her around for the reveal we both sobbed. I'll never forget that day.

I have client who is 12. Non-binary. They came to me and we decided to cut all of their hair off and give them a baby mullet. To be able to see their face light up at the end of an appointment is all the confirmation I need to know that I’m exactly where I need to be in my career. If I can give anyone even for just a minute a moment where they feel good and authentically themselves, I feel good.

Jorge Mendoza, they/them, performance artist and photographer

When I was younger, my parents would force a buzz cut on me whenever my hair got too long. I’d cry every time. As an adult I’ve always kept my hair relatively long, my hair makes me feel beautiful and my most authentic self.

Right now, I shave the sides of my head. I first got this look when I was home after a heartbreak. I knew I wanted change, so I took my shaving razor into the bathroom and began shaving the sides of my head. I now do this every couple of weeks.

When I need a haircut, I go to one of my closest friends, a fellow drag queen and professional hairstylist named Virginia Thicc. My hair is an important part of my identity, in the sense that it allows me to express my femininity. Along with being punk and rad, it lets people know not to f*ck with me.

I do shows all throughout Manhattan, Brooklyn, Queens area. I have a stage name of Charlie Wo where I double as both a drag queen and a drag king. I don't think my hair directly informs my gender expression, but it adds the perfect accessory. For example, if I’m feeling more "feminine," I may put bows or clips in my hair. And when I'm doing a more "masculine" look, I'll leave it a little more plain or untamed.

Back in 2016, I decided I wanted to cut my hair off for the first time. At first, it was a way to regain health to my hair. But after having it short, I fell in love with my facial features so much more. It made me feel beautiful and very sexy. I felt closer to my real self with my shorter hair. So I kept on cutting it to keep it short. The best part of short hair hands down is just running your fingers all over your scalp. The feeling feels so good.

For the most part, everyone loved my hair. There were a few comments of "when are you going to grow it back" or "this is just temporary right," but besides that, everyone could see how happy I looked and how it just brightened my whole aura. Feeling beautiful makes for many more beautiful days.

Currently, I wear my hair in its natural state. Once I stopped perming and using heat tools in my hair, I felt so much liberation. I feel like I was always trying to calm my hair down in fear it’ll be too loud, but now I love the conversation my hair brings. I think it shows that any hairstyle isn’t just for one gender. Any hairstyle can work, regardless of identity, as long as it feels right to you.

Mele, they/them, actor

I've been trying to navigate beauty spaces as a non-binary person, because I think that I'm often perceived as a woman, even if it's more of a masc woman. I got my eyebrows done two months ago, and I was like, "Hey, I just want a very sparse cleanup. I am not a woman, I'm non-binary, please don't give me an arch shape." And then they gave me this high arch. And for the first day or so, it was a cute look, but I didn't want this. It wasn't me. It felt like I was doing a certain look that you might wear for formal attire or something, which is fun for a night, but you don't want to wake up and put that on every day.

I think that's something I'm still trying to navigate; how do I navigate hair and beauty, especially, because hair and beauty is so binary. It's so controlled. I have been wanting to get a haircut. I feel more confident in my appearance when it has a distinct point of view. And I think that's the power for a lot of gender variant folks, and a lot of women and femmes, just being like, "I'm going to dictate how I look, even if you're going to punish me for it."

But I still haven't gotten my hair cut. How can I find someone that I really trust to understand what I'm going for, instead of projecting how they see me, and their relationship to femininity onto my hair?

I also don't feel like I need to change my hair as a non-binary person, but right before I came out as non-binary, I did a big chop off of my hair. It was really long. and I cut off 10 inches. Initially, it felt really, really good, because it felt like a rebirth in a sense. As a woman, and especially as a biracial person, I was socialized to see my hair as something that was so precious. I would go to my dad's family house, and they would run their fingers through my hair, and be like "Oh you have such pretty hair," because it was straight. And when I would date cis straight men, a lot of the time they would compliment my hair, and be like "you have such beautiful hair." Within the Latinx community, people would tell me I have "good hair," and that would spark a lot of conversations. I'd say, "No, we have different hair textures. You have great hair, I have great hair. There's no such thing as that."

So chopping my hair off was like shedding something that was so related to other people's feelings about me, and about other people's feelings of desire for me. It felt like the starting point of regaining control over who I am, how I identify, and how I want to present myself. It was important as a marker for that first step of being like this can just be about me, and what I want. My perception of myself is really what matters, or what needs to be paramount.

I would like for salons to not have women's haircuts and men's haircuts. Especially, when there are women who have shaved heads. Are you going to charge that woman a hundred dollars for a haircut when you're doing the same thing to a man? That has never made sense to me. But when I think of the future of non-binary hair, I don't think of a hairstyle. I would like to see the beauty industry de-gendered. I think that's a good starting point: if you stop having prices be so binary, then when someone comes into the salon, you're not automatically categorizing them.

But it's also hard, because I know that salons and barbershops can be really safe spaces for cisgender people. I think about how important the barbershop is to Black men, and how important salons are to Black women, and I don't want to disrupt those spaces for those people. I don't want anyone to feel like I am advocating for something to be taken away. But I think there can be more freedom of movement — or that is what I would like to see when I think of non-binary haircuts.

Camellia, she/her, digital artist, projection designer, and animation teacher

Hair is a huge part of my gender expression, especially now early on in my transition while I'm still figuring out what clothes I like to wear and other style choices. The thing that I know for sure and can trust is that my hair will keep growing. Having it be longer helps complete my expression and it feels quite freeing to be letting it grow out.

Back when I was cis/forced to be cis because of societal expectations, I always kept my hair relatively short. When I was a kid I would always get a question from my mom or grandma asking when I was going to cut my hair if it ever grew past my ears. Whenever a close relative would comment on a haircut, I felt a sense of failure for the self I was trying to project.

I chose to not cut my hair anymore when I came to terms with the idea that I can't suppress or hide the fact that I am trans from myself. I haven't gotten a haircut or hairstyle yet because I think I'm still forming my own style. It's kind of nerdy, but I've viewed the states of my transition in a sort of anime or video game-style of achieving new forms. The idea is the next form will be epitomized by a new hairstyle. I think I've always been like that — I always get a big hairstyle change when something significant happens in my life or I want to try and manifest a huge shift for myself.

Now I feel happier, and I think my hair is happier too. Whenever it got cut short it would fall flat on my head, but whenever it grows out it starts to curl and is actually able to be type 2 wavy, which is how it sits naturally. I always felt like my hair was an extension of my heart, and a flatter appearance reflected a muted personality and feeling. Having my hair be bouncy and far-reaching really reflects the joys of my continuous transition, my embracement of myself and the world around me.

I think I enjoy showers in general much more because of not having to grapple with body dysmorphia as much. Instead, there's a great amount of euphoria that comes from the extra time I have to put into longer hair: combing through it, applying more hair products, etc. In general, I'm taking much better care of my hair for the type it is. It's continuing to flourish instead of getting damaged!

I wrap my hair in a towel now to help it dry. I have never been a monarch of any kind so I've never worn a crown, but having the weight of the towel on my head makes me feel the same sort of feeling I'd imagine wearing a crown does. I hope that doesn't sound too self-important. It feels like even in my towels, I can feel really proud of where I am.

Lyda, they/she, singer/songwriter and producer

My hair has always been very connected to my queerness and queer journey. My natural hair color is what I like to call "mousey brown," which felt completely, frustratingly ordinary to me for a long time. I bleached my hair years ago, then dyed it blue, purple, green, pink… having colorful hair became this amazing way to signify to the world that I was queer, creative, a risk-taker. I have always felt this need to express my inner self through my outer presentation via hair color, cut, tattoos, and fashion. I always knew that I wanted to experience buzzing my hair, but honestly, I put it off because I was afraid — afraid that looking more androgynous would confirm that I was not as connected to being a woman as I wanted to believe I was.

I presented myself as quite femme for a long time as this attempt to stay in line with this idea of what my gender should be. I was okay with being a pansexual woman, but the idea of being pansexual and non-binary was another story. Of course, as time passed I couldn't escape this feeling that I was out of sync with the gender I was assigned. At times I felt in touch with all genders, and at other times I felt completely genderless and disconnected. Suddenly being non-binary was not something to be afraid of, but perhaps a simple fact of what I always have been.

My partner, who is also pansexual and exploring what gender means to them, encouraged me to buzz my hair from the beginning of our relationship. I told myself I would buzz it by the end of 2021. In early December, I decided to finally do it, and my partner buzzed my bright turquoise hair right off. It was both terrifying and exhilarating. It felt like a new chapter in my life was beginning.

Buzzing my hair was like shedding a skin; like letting go of a previous self. It was an incredibly freeing sensation, almost like a rebirth, which, at the time, I very badly needed. I got to a point where my long colorful hair felt like the most feminine part about me — and I needed to see myself stripped of that, see myself in a new way, in order to truly reflect on my gender. The cut makes me feel sort of genderless, which I love. I feel more queer than ever and more accepting of myself than ever.

In a way, my new hair has given me what I so badly wanted: to feel truly non-binary. Now that I appear more androgynous, however, I feel more in touch with my femininity instead of further from it. I’m making peace with all parts of myself, and I understand that I am non-binary no matter how I look. There will be times in the future when I present more femme or more masc, but this journey has allowed me to be comfortable with myself regardless of how I present to the world.

Kate Woods, she/her, painter, gardener, and owner of Brow Bold, a cosmetic tattooing studio in Dallas

Hair has always been a part of my gender expression. My first memory of cutting my hair "short like a boy" was in the 5th grade. The movie Ghost had just come out, and I fell in love with Demi Moore and her haircut. My boyfriend promptly broke up with me for "looking like a boy."

Growing up in the 1980s and ‘90s, having short hair was a big deal. You were almost instantly labeled as a "lesbian" or considered "butch" depending on the severity and style of your short haircut. I remember moving to NYC my freshman year of college and I couldn’t wait to have the freedom to shave my head. Ani DiFranco was touring and had a shaved head, everyone was obsessed with the models Eve Salvail and Jenny Shimizu. I wanted to let the world know I was queer, and that seemed like the fastest way to get that kind of attention. My mother was in tears when I went home during break. I got a reaction from my haircuts, and I loved it.

Fast forward to 2022: I'm in my 40s, and I don’t really think about how my hair relates to my gender or how I identify. It's just me. I've had every short haircut possible and I am comfortable in my own skin at this stage of the game.

I've always felt that salon culture is really antiquated, especially with its pricing being related to mens and women's cuts. I never got the men's rate even though my hair is short. I doubt a man with long hair has ever had to pay for a women's cut. Barber shops also have a culture that is historically not a comfortable place for someone who identifies as female, let alone queer. I think some of that is starting to change, but my wife and I have been turned away from numerous barbers or have sat through really uncomfortable barber haircuts simply because of our gender and sexuality. Having worked in salons for years, I can safely say that there is a lot of discrimination within the hair world that goes beyond how a person identifies. That culture needs to evolve and change to say the least.

I didn't grow up in the time of gender inclusiveness or a lot of options in terms of how a person identified. But current trending haircuts are just like fashion trends, they are all haircuts I had in my 20s and 30s that would now be considered non-binary. Now anyone can have a shaved head or a mullet, and I wouldn't assume how that person identifies based on their haircut.

These interviews have been edited and condensed for clarity.

Read more about queer beauty here:

• Queer People Are Using Beauty as Self-Care During the Pandemic
• 18 LGBTQ-Owned Beauty Brands We're Obsessed With
• What I've Learned Since I Started Taking Testosterone

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