Growing up, my hair became a story all on its own. As a teenager, I was deeply into rock music—the louder, the better—and naturally, I let my hair grow long. It felt like a rite of passage, a declaration of rebellion against the neat and tidy norms of the world. But when I became a student, things took a peculiar turn.I decided to stop brushing it altogether. The result? The worst dreadlocks you've ever seen. Not the sleek, purposeful kind that you might admire on a reggae artist—no, these were chaotic, matted tangles that looked more like a bird's nest than a hairstyle. I must have looked completely unhinged.And yet, I functioned. I went about my life as if nothing was out of the ordinary. I dated, held down jobs, and navigated the world like any other adult. What amazes me to this day is that nobody ever said a word about it to my face. Not one person. Maybe they were too polite, too shocked, or simply unsure of how to approach the subject.Looking back, those dreadlocks taught me som...
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