F**k the establishment and patriarchy

As I sit here getting ready for my first day back behind the chair after my most recent flare-up, my head and my heart feel heavy.

We’re living in unpredictable times. People are scared. People feel powerless. We’re witnessing horrific events day after day—and it feels like it’s escalating by the minute. I’ve never been someone who could keep my mouth shut about injustice, and I don’t plan to start now. I will never understand what it means to not love thy neighbor.

I’ve helped people in moments where it could’ve cost me my safety—maybe even my life. Not because I wanted to be a hero, but because it’s instinct. I don’t think about it. I just act. And I won’t stop.

Today, I had to email my team about keeping our doors locked—for the safety of my employees and our clients while they’re in the salon. Dramatic? God, I wish it were. But I can’t ignore what’s being shown to me. ICE vans have been delivered to Burlington, MA. My responsibility is to protect the people in my care as best I can.

And yet—I still have bills to pay and a business to run. Talk about a paradox.

Both things can be true at the same time: our country is shifting toward something that feels deeply hateful, and I still have to get up every day and make people feel beautiful. I’ll continue to do that—while also acknowledging the pain and frustration this administration has caused. This isn’t politics anymore. This is right versus wrong. Good versus bad.

Ten years ago, at a Bernie Sanders rally, someone told me, “It’s your turn to fight.” I’ve never forgotten that. I don’t intend to stop now.

I’m a 44-year-old, single, cat-loving woman who bought her own home and built a thriving business. I am, quite literally, a middle finger to the patriarchy—and I love every moment of it.