I recently cut my hair. It wasn’t a dramatic change—I didn’t shave my head, just went shorter. Honestly, I didn’t think much of it or make a big announcement. But when I next posted a photo on Instagram, it was clear my hair looked different. That’s when I realized some people thought I should have asked them first before deciding. Or at least, that’s how it seemed.
Surprisingly, I got messages from quite a few men. Many wrote in a friendly, almost casual tone (even though we don’t know each other), saying things like: “I liked your long hair better.”
Don’t get me wrong: you absolutely have the right to think that. Really. Aesthetic preferences aren’t a crime. You can love long hair, short hair, blue, or pink. You can have opinions.
The problem isn’t the thought itself, but the strong urge to make sure I hear that thought.
It’s honestly hard for me to process that someone feels their opinion about my hair—or any decision about my own body—is so important that I absolutely must know about it.
So what am I supposed to do with this info?
Grow it out again just to make a stranger feel more comfortable? Reply with thanks for the market research? File it under “Men’s opinions on my hair 2026”?
Dear men, we don’t know what to do with these opinions! Really, we don’t. Our choices about our own bodies aren’t shaped by random men’s preferences online. And when you send these messages, whether you mean to or not, you’re implying your opinion matters. That you have a say.
That’s what’s frustrating. Not that tastes exist. But the unspoken assumption that your taste is relevant to my life. That my hair isn’t just my hair, but some kind of public aesthetic project worthy of feedback.
Yes, I know the internet is like this. If you post publicly, expect reactions. But there’s a difference between someone saying “that looks good on you” and “I liked it better when you looked different.” The first is about me. The second is about you.
Unsolicited opinions have a particular aftertaste. They carry a quiet hierarchy: as if a woman’s appearance is public business. As if it’s normal to evaluate, comment on, and shape a woman’s body.
Dear men, if we didn’t ask, it’s not because we forgot to include you in the decision. It’s because your input isn’t relevant. It doesn’t affect how we cut our hair, what we wear, or whether we wear makeup. And honestly, when you share your opinions unsolicited, it’s not inspiring, not helpful, not constructive. It just feels like you think you have the right to interfere.
If we really want to know, we’ll ask. And I promise, we’ll listen openly and with interest. But until then, it’s worth remembering that not every thought needs to be shared publicly. Not every preference is public information. And if you asked me, I’d happily say we sometimes appreciate it more when you stay quiet.
