Throughout the interactive sessions, I gradually realised that when the same lock of “hair” was placed in front of different women, their bodily reactions, emotional expressions, and behavioural choices diverged completely. These differences were not random—they were deeply intertwined with each participant’s family background, emotional memory, and personal understanding of marriage.
Participants who described themselves as coming from happy families tended to slow down their movements when they approached the installation. They would first touch the hair gently, sensing its texture and weight, before hesitantly picking up the scissors—not to cut it off, but rather to trim it delicately, as if trying to make it “look better.” Some even commented, “I just want to make it neater,” or “It feels like I’m tidying up my life.”
This act of trimming rather than destroying seemed to symbolise a desire to maintain relationships—to adjust and refine within the existing structure, rather than to break away from it.
Those who said things like “my parents only want me to be happy” displayed another kind of interaction. They would rarely touch the scissors, choosing instead to pick up the comb and carefully run it through the strands, again and again. Some focused on untangling the knots; others said, “It feels like taking care of someone.”
Their gestures carried no aggression or intent to change the hair’s form; instead, they expressed a gentle, continuous sense of care. In a way, this mirrored their emotional stance toward family and marriage—acknowledging the expectations that exist, yet still holding on to a space for tenderness and understanding.
In striking contrast, those who spoke about feeling pressured by marital or social expectations reacted very differently. They would often make their decision almost instantly—reaching for the scissors without hesitation. Some tightened the hair before cutting it in one sharp motion; others did so with visible emotion, saying things like “I’m so tired of this” or “I just don’t want it.”
Their actions were often fast, decisive, even slightly violent—not acts of decoration, but of cutting, rejecting, and ending. For them, the gesture of cutting symbolised much more than a physical act: it was a moment of release, a refusal of the scripted life paths imposed by family or society, a way to momentarily push back against the recurring sentence—“You should start thinking about marriage.”
Through these contrasting reactions, it became clear that the installation offered no single “correct” way to engage. Instead, it functioned like a mirror, reflecting each participant’s personal history and internal dialogue.
Some treated the hair as something to be cared for, others as something to be tended gently, and still others as something that must be severed to reclaim autonomy.
These moments reminded me that the installation was not merely an artistic representation of marriage and womanhood—it was, through small embodied gestures like cutting, combing, and touching, a space where each woman could momentarily encounter her own story. Her relationship with family, her perception of parental expectations, and her negotiation with the institution of marriage were all made visible in that intimate, tactile encounter.
Leave a Reply