Snagg
The Bleached Diva
Simon’s roommate Martin had invited him to participate in the latest edition of his online show. On the agenda: a discussion about different perspectives on masculinity among gay men.
Martin hosted the show as his drag queen alter ego Martina Koyak. The other guest was an effeminate guy named Zacharias who constantly attacked Simon.
“Just look at yourself!” said Zacharias. “Buzz cut, muscles and tattoos! I’m sure you would never wear makeup!”
“Makeup is so far outside my sphere of interest,” said Simon, “that the question of whether I would wear makeup simply doesn’t arise.”
“I’d rather say,” said Zacharias, tossing back his chin-length bleached curls, “that you’re so caught up in your masculinity that you strictly reject anything that seems unmanly to you.”
“Look,” said Simon, “I prefer to have an appearance that is perceived as masculine. And other gay men prefer to emphasize their feminine sides. So what? Instead of looking down on each other, I think it’s better to respect each other.”
“Do you always succeed in doing that?” asked Martina.
Simon shook his head. “No, not always. But I try hard to live up to my ideal more and more.”
“Those are nothing but pretty words,” said Zacharias. “Words that can’t hide your aggressive masculinity.”
Simon felt increasingly annoyed. “You accuse me of having an aggressive masculinity?” he asked, trying to remain calm on the outside. “But right now, Zacharias, you’re the one who comes across as aggressive.”
Zacharias wanted to respond, but was stopped by Martina. “Zacharias, your tone does indeed come across as quite harsh. I’d like us to discuss objectively and calmly…”
“Are you on his side now?” Zacharias asked, almost shouting. “As a host, you should take a neutral position! But what can you expect from a bald drag queen with a beard!”
Zacharias was unable to moderate his tone for the rest of the show. As soon as Martina had spoken the final words, Zacharias immediately stormed out of the studio.
“Sorry, Simon!” said Martina a few minutes later backstage. “I knew Zacharias was confrontational, but I didn’t expect him to attack you like that.”
“It was hard for me not to shout back. If I had done so, he would have interpreted it as further proof of my aggressive masculinity.”
Martina sat down in front of a mirror and began to remove her makeup. “At first glance, viewers will certainly notice that you represent a rugged masculinity. But they will also notice your friendly eyes and your warm voice. Anyone who isn’t completely blinded by prejudice will sense that your personality is more complex than it might initially appear. Zacharias, on the other hand…” Martina sighed. “He’s not going to win anyone over to his point of view if he interprets femininity as nagging bitchiness.”
Martina took off her dress. “I see you’ve gained some muscle,” said Simon.
Martina laughed. “I’m just someone who wants both femininity and masculinity. I love drag, but I also love being a dude.”
“I have to admit,” Simon said, “that I once said something very derogatory about a drag queen. Pablo got very angry with me and taught me not to speak badly about my sisters.”
“Pablo is a very sensitive gay man and artist,” said Martina, wiping his face with a damp cloth. “His film is wonderful.”
“His graduation film about the queer art festival?”
Martina nodded. “He paints a loving portrait of our scene.”
“Pablo asked me if I’d like to move in with him…”
Martina looked at Simon inquiringly. “I hope you said yes?”
“I said I wanted to talk to you and Carl first…”
Martina took Simon’s hands. “Of course, I don’t want to let you go. But, look, I know that a student apartment share doesn’t last forever. You want to move in with your boyfriend, and Carl has applied to study abroad in Spain for a semester.”
“How was Martin’s show?” Pablo asked as they jogged through the woods the next morning.
“As expected, Martin was a pleasant host…”
“But?”
“But the other guest was some bleach-blond culture podcaster who’s hostile toward masculine men.”
“Zacharias?”
“Do you know him?”
“Not personally. But as far as I know, he was the only one who trashed my film. Or rather, he trashed me. He thought it was presumptuous for a man with very short hair and muscles to even dare to be involved in the cultural sector.”
They stopped at an outdoor gym to do a few dips and push-ups.
“Then I hope he doesn’t come to the premiere of my solo show,” said Simon.
“Who cares if he comes or not? I don’t think his podcast has that many listeners anyway.”
“How are the preparations for your tour going?” Pablo asked as they continued jogging.
“It would be easier for my agent if I were willing to perform not only on weekends and during university vacations.”
“I would say it’s the right decision not to neglect your studies too much.”
“At the moment, I don’t know if I’ll ever work as a physical therapist, but I think it’s good to have an alternative in case my stand-up career doesn’t work out.”
About three weeks later, at Muscle Factory—the gym where Simon had long worked alongside his studies. Due to his many stand-up performances, he no longer worked here, but only came to work out.
When Simon had finished his workout for the day, he chatted with his roommate Carl, who still worked here, at the reception desk.
“Don’t you have an appointment with Tony?” Carl asked.
“Tony called me and asked if I could come in a little later,” Simon replied. “A friend who works at a hair salon sent him an emergency client. Something went wrong with the bleach, the hair broke off, and now Tony’s clippers are needed. Apparently, the friend at the salon doesn’t have any expertise when it comes to short haircuts.”
Tony chuckled. “It actually sounds a bit funny. How can you be so stupid as to waste your time bleaching your hair?”
Simon nodded. “Yeah, sounds pretty stupid. I’m going to take a shower and head over to Tony’s. Maybe I’ll catch some of the drama and get some new material for the stage.”
The drama had just begun when Simon arrived at the barbershop.
“What are you doing here?” Zacharias asked gruffly as soon as Simon came through the door.
Zacharias! The emergency client was Zacharias, Simon thought, struggling to suppress a fit of laughter.
Zacharias was already sitting in the barber’s chair, and Tony stood behind him, trying to comb through Zacharias’ remaining hair.
“I’m here for my weekly touch-up,” Simon replied, giving Tony a buddy handshake before sitting down on the waiting bench.
“What kind of testosterone-driven world have I stumbled into here?” Zacharias asked, rolling his eyes.
Tony forced a smile. “In this world, hair and beards are cut.”
“Cut? You mean shaved. Don’t tell me you ever use scissors in this shop!”
“I actually use scissors,” said Tony. “Which tool I use depends on the customer’s wishes or, as in your case, on how much hair the customer still has.”
“Is that supposed to be a comment on the state of my hair?” Zacharias asked, angrily. “If your colleague at the hair salon hadn’t been so incompetent and had known how to apply bleach, I wouldn’t have to listen to all this now!”
Tony took a deep breath. “As far as I know, my colleague advised you not to bleach your hair for a while, but you insisted on doing it anyway. I’d also like to point out that you’re free to get up and leave at any time. You can go to another barber, buy a wig, or get clippers and give yourself a buzz cut.”
Simon was annoyed by how condescendingly Zacharias treated Tony. Like a rich, snobbish lady in a telenovela treats her staff. On the other hand, he was impressed by how professionally and calmly Tony handled the situation. I think I’d just throw out this spiteful old devil, Simon thought.
Zacharias didn’t think to apologize for his remarks, but simply said, “Okay, go on!”
“Well,” said Tony, “your hair is unevenly broken off. Some strands are longer than others. What will determine your haircut are the areas where your hair is shortest. Take a look at your fringe. Part of the hair there is quite short. This significantly limits the options. Only haircuts without a fringe are possible.”
Tony let his gaze wander over Zacharias’ head. “Here around the crown, there’s also only quite short hair left.”
“And that means?” Zacharias asked.
“That means it’s going to be difficult to give you a taper haircut, but I think I can manage it.”
“A taper haircut?” cried Zacharias. “How awful!”
“Well, it would be easier to give you a skin fade.”
“A skin fade? Then I’d look just like him!” said Zacharias, pointing to Simon.
Simon saw Tony stifle a giggle. “Sounds like you prefer a taper haircut to a skin fade,” Tony said. “I suggest a taper fade crew cut. A short, clean top of about 2 cm—longer is impossible—combined with a tight taper fade above the ears and neckline.”
“That definitely won’t make you look like me,” Simon commented. “I would never walk around with 2 cm. That would be too hippie for me.”
“Did you hear that it’s called a crew cut?” Zacharias asked Simon. “So it’s something military. But for a hypermasculine guy like you, I’ll still never be manly enough, even with a crew cut.”
“Masculinity doesn’t depend solely on your haircut,” Simon replied. “In my opinion, you will not be man enough as long as you behave disrespectfully toward others.”
Zacharias snorted contemptuously. Then he said to Tony, “Let’s get this over with! Give me that damn crew cut!”
“Yes, sir!” said Tony, picking up a pair of clippers.
Yes, bitch! would have been more appropriate, Simon thought, as he watched Tony put a relatively long guard on the clippers.
“I’m now going to shave the remaining tufts down to 2 cm,” said Tony, switching on the clippers.
“I can’t believe this is happening!” said Zacharias.
Neither can I, thought Simon, but unlike you, at least I’m having fun!
Tony placed the machine on Zacharias’ forehead and began moving it over his head. Hair of varying lengths, damaged by bleaching, fell onto the cape and the floor.
Zacharias watched his transformation in the mirror with a fixed gaze, trying hard not to show any emotion.
It had become quiet in the barbershop. Only the buzzing of the clippers could be heard. Simon was surprised that Zacharias could keep himself from talking. Maybe he was in shock? Traumatized by the unexpected and unwanted loss of his bleached curls?
On the one hand, Simon felt a little sorry for him, but on the other hand, he felt a certain satisfaction. It served this conceited diva right to have his hair shorn.
Soon there was only short hair left on Zacharias’ head, and Tony turned off the clippers.
“I look like Annie Lennox!” said Zacharias.
Or like that cashier at the supermarket around the corner, thought Simon.
Tony switched to a much shorter guard and turned the clippers back on. He positioned them at the nape of Zacharias’ neck and began buzzing upward.
Tony kept pushing the clippers higher and higher. The taper fade Zacharias was getting was a high taper fade. And the hair left behind was less than 1 cm long.
Zacharias couldn’t see the back of his head, but as Tony began working on the sides, Zacharias could already imagine what the final result would look like.
“This is the most humiliating day of my life!” he said.
“It might feel humiliating right now,” Simon said. “But maybe it’s the start of something new!”
“Shut up!”
Then the clippers fell silent. “Are we done?” asked Zacharias.
Tony shook his head. “Not quite. I still need to tidy up your neck. With the razor. So you have a nice, clean line.”
Without waiting for Zacharias to comment, Tony lathered shaving cream onto Zacharias’ neck.
“By the way,” said Tony, “if you want more hair, you could grow a beard.”
“A beard?” Zacharias asked, horrified.
A beard is probably an expression of fearsome masculinity for Zacharias, Simon thought, stroking his stubble.
“It doesn’t have to be a bushy full beard like mine…” said Tony.
“No, no, no!” interrupted Zacharias. “My face stays clean-shaven!”
Simon groaned inwardly. If just the harmless suggestion of maybe growing a beard triggered such a strong reaction in Zacharias, he should probably consider therapy.
Tony picked up a razor and placed it against Zacharias’ neck. With quick strokes, Tony shaved Zacharias’s neck, creating a straight neckline.
Then Tony pulled the cape away and said, “Voilà! Your new hairstyle!”
“The birth of a butch!” said Simon.
“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?”
Tony cleared his throat. “I would say that the haircut will probably look better once the bleach has grown out. What’s your natural hair color?”
“Light brown.”
“Light brown works well with this haircut.”
Zacharias stood up. “I don’t think I’m going to keep this hairstyle. Besides, I hate my natural hair color.”
Zacharias followed Tony to the bar to pay. On the way out, Zacharias said to Simon, “Now it’s your turn, recruit!”
“I bet that wasn’t the last time I saw that guy,” said Tony, once Simon had taken his seat. “In one month at the latest, when the bleach has grown out a bit, he’ll come and ask me to cut his hair even shorter than today, so that all the blonde is gone.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Trust my experience!”
Over the next four weeks, Simon didn’t have time to waste any more thoughts on Zacharias. Simon was too busy preparing for the premiere of his solo show.
Then came the big night. Simon had chosen a medium-sized theater in the city center, built around 1900. It was a theater that had seen many artists perform on its stage throughout its history, and that evening Simon added a small piece of his own history.
The tickets had been sold out for weeks, which had increased the pressure on Simon to deliver a really good show.
To distract himself, he had spent the day jogging for longer than usual and going to the gym, and then had Tony trim his mid-skin-fade buzz cut.
Simon’s nervousness subsided as soon as the first laughs came. His jokes landed as planned or even better. He sailed through his set as if he had wings. After a good hour, the performance ended. The final applause seemed louder and longer than at any of his previous performances.
After leaving the stage, he allowed himself a few moments alone in his dressing room. Then there was a knock at the door and a broadly smiling Pablo poked his head through. “People are waiting in the foyer to celebrate the star of the night.”
Simon rose from his chair. “Is that me? A star?”
Pablo hugged Simon and gave him a kiss. “I’ll say the same thing to you now that you said to me at the premiere of my film: Just enjoy it!”
Simon walked down the stairs to the foyer alongside Pablo. More applause. And congratulations from all sides. A waiter handed him a glass of sparkling wine. “Non-alcoholic, as requested,” said the waiter.
Pablo laughed. “You don’t even want to drink alcohol today.”
“There’s always tomorrow,” replied Simon. “And even the day after a premiere, I want to be able to perform well in sports.”
“This discipline must come from your German ancestors…”
“I doubt that. Family history says that my great-great-grandfather was a brewery owner.”
Then it was time to face the press, answer questions, and take photos. Among the reporters, Simon spotted a certain culture podcaster named Zacharias. And guess what? Tony had been right. Zacharias must have been back at the barber’s. His blond hair was gone, and his haircut was even shorter than one month ago.
“You’re almost my haircut twin now,” said Simon after the rest of the press had left.
Zacharias cleared his throat. “I think I owe you an apology.”
“For what?”
“I behaved like a jerk toward you,” Zacharias said. “I now understand that a man doesn’t suddenly become toxic masculinity just because he has very short hair.”
“Did your new haircut teach you that?”
“Yes, I think so. Even though I now have a haircut that is considered masculine, I’m ultimately just as effeminate as before. I think I even use more makeup now.”
“And you obviously went to the barber again.”
“I somehow had a desire for even shorter hair. I feel like short hair grounds me. Before, I always felt like a woman going through menopause.”
“I’m glad to hear that you seem to have coped well with the bleaching disaster,” said Simon, and was about to say goodbye.
“One more thing,” said Zacharias. “Would you be willing to be a guest on my podcast?”
“Wow!” Simon replied, surprised. “I was more prepared for my show to be trashed on your podcast than for you to invite me on.”
Zacharias grinned sheepishly. “I might ask you a few critical questions, among other things. But how could I trash your show? You were brilliant!”
To be continued…
