My Harrowing Day at the Barber

As a trans person with social anxiety, getting a haircut is definitely in my top five least favorite activities. I can’t explain why, but my brain interprets explaining my hair desires to a stranger as a life or death situation. 

Needless to say, getting a haircut in a place where I don’t speak the main language is even more anxiety-inducing, but my hair was becoming so shaggy that I didn’t really have a choice. I started researching nearby salons, and quickly ran into the typical conundrum: what manner of business should I be looking for? Being transmasculine, I prefer unisex hair salons, but those are few and far between. Male barbershops make me feel incredibly out of place, and women’s hair salons are more expensive and also tend to give feminine haircuts. Of course, there are queer-owned salons that cater to people of all genders, but they also charge an arm and a leg. While I like feeling comfortable, I’m not willing to pay 90 Euros for it.

After looking at countless options, I finally found an option that was cheap, had 4.9 stars on Google, and seemed pretty unisex. It was labeled a barbershop, but it said they offered haircuts for women as well. I booked an appointment using an online portal for the next day and went to bed tentatively hopeful.

The next morning, I took the bus to the barbershop. As I looked out the window, I imagined how the interaction would go when I arrived:

Me (walking up to the well-lit reception area, smiling at the receptionist): Hallo!

Receptionist: Hallo!

Me: Sprichst du Englisch? Entschuldigung, mein Deutsch ist nicht so gut.

Receptionist (smiling widely): Yes, of course! And might I add, your German is excellent!

Me: Oh, stop it, you’re too kind. I have an appointment for 11:30?

Receptionist (tapping away at her desktop): Your name?

Me: Auden.

Receptionist: Yes, of course! I have you right here. Please take a seat and your barber will be with you soon.

Me: Danke schön! Tschüss!

Receptionist: Tschüss!

Then I would get the androgynous haircut of my dreams and go on my merry way, all for the low price of 25 Euros.

Now here’s what actually happened:

Me (seeing two guys smoking on the doorstep and realizing I won’t be able to teleport through them): Uh, I have an appointment…

(The guys look at each other, bewildered)

Guy: You said you don’t have an appointment?

Me (all knowledge of German has left my brain): No, I DO have an appointment.

(The guys talk to each other in German for a minute while staring at me, as I wish I had spent more time on Duolingo)

Guy: Okay, we can take you. Come in.

(I enter the barbershop and look around frantically for a place to sit)

Guy (pointing): The waiting room is over there.

Me: Oh.

I sat on the couch and contemplated my life choices. The guys seemed nice enough, but this was NOT the unisex hair salon of my dreams. Instead, German rap blasted from a speaker while I sat across from three teenage boys. This was the super masculine barbershop of my nightmares, and I was trapped. My heart was pounding and I wanted nothing more than to leave, but I didn’t want to walk past the two guys again and explain why I was now leaving. I would just have to wait.

Twenty minutes after my scheduled appointment time, the guy who had talked to me in English earlier called me to his chair. He asked me what I wanted and I recited my prepared speech (in English). The haircut itself was fine — I just closed my eyes or stared at the ground while he razed away. When he was done, I assured him that I liked it, paid, and left. 

On the surface, nothing really went wrong. I wasn’t hate-crimed or even questioned, and I got my hair cut (albeit a little shorter than I wanted), which was the goal. In a way, it was a success, because it showed me that I can tolerate uncomfortable situations. However, it was incredibly stressful.

It’s hard to explain to cis people what is so anxiety-inducing about being in a single-gender space. Whenever I end up in a place like a barbershop, I am constantly terrified of being discovered as an imposter. I do think I am probably hypervigilant, but the fact is, discrimination does exist. That being said, most people probably don't know and don’t care that I’m trans. Especially in a place like Austria, which doesn't have the same anti-trans culture as the US, most people probably have a “live and let live” attitude.

I suppose my message to other trans and gender-nonconforming people studying abroad is don’t be afraid to live your life. While it may be scary at times, you are not imposing on anyone simply by existing in the world. When I was sitting in the waiting room freaking out, I tried to remind myself, You’re allowed to be here. No matter how anyone perceives or questions you, you’re allowed to exist. 

Also, you are probably not as interesting to other people as you think. Unless you’re causing a ruckus or wearing a banana costume, most people won’t look at you twice.