Shout Out on BCfm were featuring ‘coming out’ stories this week, so I sent something in, and, since it involves haircuts (or fear of involuntary haircuts) and my friend Jenny has been talking about hair-related stuff over on her blog, I thought I’d post my contribution here.
Here’s my not-quite-coming-out story…
We were a scratch crew bringing a ferry back from Tasmania, and we were somewhere between Australia and Sri Lanka. I was about to cross the Equator for the first time and I was worried that I might have my hair clipped off; some of the crew had been commenting on its length; everyone else had cropped heads and tattoos.
I had a quiet chat with the bosun. I was very careful; he was a bit volatile, a bit of a racist, among other things, and we were a thousand miles from land. He said, “It’s not like you’re having a sex change or anything…”
“Don’t say anything,” I thought….
Two weeks later, with me and my hair safely back in England, I finally came out. He was entirely unfazed, as it happens. So were the rest of the crew. It was a good summer.