Growing Out Long Hair as an Asian Man

Three and a half years ago, I saw actor Daniel Henney, an Asian actor, play a character in Wheel of Time who had long hair and facial hair. At the time, I shaved every few days and always had short hair, like I had for my whole life.

Outside of samurai characters I saw in movies, I hadn’t seen another East Asian man really be able to grow out that hair and beard as successfully as Daniel Henney. On a whim, I decided “I want to grow out my hair and beard like that too,” since it was something I had never done before and because societal and familial pressures as an Asian American never really embraced long hair.

So I did — for three years, I grew out my beard and my hair. This is what I ended up looking like with my hair two and a half in.

Photo of the author

However, this was not a very welcome development to my Chinese family. My grandparents, who usually never said anything about my appearance, often told me how bad-looking they thought I looked with my long hair if I didn’t tie it up.

I would be told by multiple people in the family that the hair made me look like a woman. I was on a brief video chat with a cousin I had not seen in years, and she burst out laughing when she saw the hair. As to my parents, direct quotes likely best illustrate what they thought.

“You’re interviewing for jobs, and no one is going to want to hire you if you have long hair,” my dad said. “Change your hairstyle and shave!”
“You look like an artist, not a lawyer,” he said.
“If you were in China, people would think you’re a pedophile,” my mom said.

I knew it was a cultural expectation that everyone had short hair and be clean shaven, and look the same. But I didn’t expect that level of hostility towards the hair in particular.

Naturally, given my value of independence and self-determination, I became determined to just let it be and dig in my heels and not listen — my family could think what they thought. I pushed back against a culture where everyone’s hair needed to look the same, because that could expand beyond just style.

. . .

As I grew the hair out, the first year was pretty normal — it grew out a bit long, but I didn’t need to tie it up. It didn’t go past my shulders. It did start to bounce around when I started running, which became inconvenient, but was still a part of the process.

But after that year, the hair grew past my shoulders, and it did start to get inconvenient. At a certain point, I needed to start tying it up. I struggled to tie my hair at times since I had never done it before. I tried various times to tie it into a bun and failed, and just kept a layer or two wrapped in a ponytail. I invested some money in hair ties and brushes to start to maintain it and needed constant advice from my wife on what to do and how to wear it.

As an Asian, my hair is very, very straight. Down the line, this meant I would go on runs in the rain and then the ends of my hair would get very tangled. In the beginning, I would spend thirty minutes to an hour trying to untangle my hair with a brush after showering. I didn’t know how to do it at first — I would Google videos and simply pull a lot of my hair trying to untangle the ends of my hair. If I didn’t untangle it at a certain point after going on a run or being outside, it would only get worse and take longer later.

Outside of the untangling, I would need to spend a significant time brushing any time after I showered. Depending on how I slept, it could take 30 minutes every morning to brush my hair to the point where I was presentable at work, and where I could tie the hair into a knot and not have it get even more tangled.

I would get comments about the hair that were a lot more positive than what my parents thought. Most of it was amazement that I could go on runs with it being as long as it was, or the fact that it went all the way to my lower back. One time, when my wife and I were touring Antelope Canyon on the Navajo reservation, another tourist commented that I looked like “Asian Jesus.” Since I usually had it tied up, others would simply say they had no clue my hair was as long as it was once I finally let it down.

Most comments surrounded it looking good when I let the hair down and how I should let it down more often. I did let it down one time at work, and got a lot of comments from both colleagues and students. Colleagues were coming into my office just because they wanted to see me with my hair down, which was a lot more attention than I bargained for, so I never let it down again.

I enjoyed the flexibility of having the hair tied up, presenting as more professional and put together, while also being able to let the hair down and feel more free.

Eventually, the hair grew out to my mid-back. Like my parents, some more old-fashioned and conservative people did ask when I was going to cut my hair.

“Never,” I thought.

. . .

However, in the winter of this year, one job I applied for was being a lawyer in the Marines as a Judge Advocate General (JAG). While I could get by being a civilian lawyer or a teacher with long hair and facial hair, I knew that for the Marines, I had to clean myself up a bit. As much as I may have valued the self-expression and nonconformity of long hair, the military likely did not. As I moved through the recruitment process, I thought it was ironic that I was willing to follow the military’s standards in a heartbeat but not listen to my family’s advice.

I went into a local barber shop, told the barber to make my hair short again. It took me three years to grow out, and it took him five minutes to cut with some scissors. While I kept the beard, the hair is gone, and I would return to comments that all of a sudden, I looked like I was 15 years old.

I said I was going to donate the hair to charity. But it has just been in a bag, sitting around in the basement for the last three months. I still intend to. I looked at the hair about a week ago and saw that it was easily over a foot of hair. Maybe I’m holding onto it for sentimental value, maybe as a reminder of how much something can transform if you give it a lot of time.

. . .

I do wonder if the long hair did make me seem less masculine, less professional, like my dad said. I did always feel the need to tie up the hair in professional settings, including any time I was at work or in law school. I did whether whether the hair became a bit of a professional liability. I understand it’s not the 1950s anymore, but expectations about the professional appearance of men could still be more old fashioned and conservative in a lot of spaces, including the one I am entering in the legal profession.

But prior to growing out my hair, I honestly didn’t really think it was something I was capable of. I used to get my hair almost buzzed every time. Long hair just wasn’t a possibility until it was, and I’m glad it was something I let myself do at least once. I looked different from how I looked at any other point in my life.

It represented someone who could be more free, more rebellious, and make more of a statement. It represented someone who wasn’t afraid to go against the grain and be a nonconformist. Despite the inconvenience, having the choice to go “artist mode” or “lawyer mode” was a great choice to have at weddings or any other social setting.

I did learn that long hair is not just something you can grow out. I had to tend to it, maintain it, and style it. I could have used oil to keep it less dry. I could have been more wary of how wind or rain could mess up the hair. I am 28 and still young, so to my family’s chagrin, growing out long hair is certainly something I would definitely do again.

Even if it’s something I don’t do again, it was great to experiment with just to show myself I could do it.

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This post was previously published on The Partnered Pen.

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