I didn’t really know how to go about this but: I have alopecia; this isn’t a haircut.
I know, I know it looks like I get this done-
but that’s not the case.
See its felt strange lately, with all of the “shorty I like your cut”
& “what’s your shave setting”; because when I first moved here it was a lot of “god bless you” & “are you okay” whispers of “ why would she do that”
..why would I be diagnosed with a disease at the age of five?
Um.
Now that the shoe is on the other foot; now that things are more ‘positive’-
I feel a pit in my stomach.
Because it negates the struggle to get here.
Assumptions that I’m riding a trend.
Which, I’m happy that those younger than me w/ the same disease, will receive less scrutiny..but what about me?
My story untold; still unable to book roles, from the lack of typecast provided for fully bald women:
living a normal life, not cancerous, not villainous, no powers..where?
I write my own.
Submit my screenplays, send publishing companies my pages.
And I know it takes time, but my voice is muted through the patience; my heart breaks while I wait-
but I grab the tape.
Allowing myself space from the rejection I face.
Because I know in its wake, awaits my fate.

– written on the L train from Jefferson to Union Sq @ 10:45pm- By Faith Williams

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Email: faithel1994@gmail.com