Wild in the best way.
It framed her face in every photograph, spilled over her shoulders when she laughed, and caught the light like it was made of its own quiet fire. People complimented it constantly.
“Don’t ever cut it,” her friends would say.
But this wasn’t about what others loved.
It was about what she was ready to release.
The decision didn’t come from sadness.
It came from strength.
After months of feeling trapped by expectations — how she should look, how she should present herself, how she should remain the same — she wanted something bold. Something irreversible.
She booked a private appointment.
No crowd. No cameras. Just a chair, a mirror, and the soft hum of clippers waiting.
When she sat down, her heart beat fast — not from fear, but from anticipation.
Her stylist asked one last time.
“Are you sure?”
Baweeka looked at her reflection. She saw the familiar version of herself. The safe version. The predictable one.
“Yes,” she said.
The first pass of the clippers carved a clean path across the top of her head. A thick curtain of hair slid down to the floor.
She felt lighter instantly.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
