An inspiring story about one bibi's struggle with keeping kesh.
Taken from [
misskaur19.blogspot.com]
Like many women, I have PCOs, but unlike many women, I have the symptom of Hirsutism. I shan't get into the technicalities of things, but rather gloss over things- my life was full of self loathing right from the moment I realised I was different! As a child, I was quiet and subdued. I don't think there was a day at school that someone didn't make a horrible comment to me. I was that person in class that people knew they could pick on, and once you're established as that person, things just keep going and going.
A few times I got beaten up by boys two years older than me, behind a wooden board near the school... the fights all started when they'd act disgusted about how "hairy" I was. People would sometimes stand around and watch, jeering and shouting things, but nobody helped. I'd try to pull myself together and go to class as though nothing had happened, although I always felt like I was trembling inside afterwards. To this day, none of my family know about that...
Other times, people would spit in my face, and make comments to whoever was with me like, "I didn't think you'd stoop so low as to be friends with HER". They'd make noises of disgust when they had to sit next to me, and every day I received comments about how I'm a man, how I'm ugly, etc. The girls would be spiteful and say that I'd never get married, I'd always hear that so and so has called me a hairy ape, and such things. I think you get the idea, kids eh!
At 19 years of age now, I think back and find it hard to understand how such a young kid could have such depressive feelings. But I really did. Some days I begged God with my hands folded that I could somehow wake up normal, and other days, I'd pray for Him to please take my life soon. I just didn't see a future for myself.
After many hospital appointments and blood tests had concluded that there wasn't much I could do to get rid of the hair naturally, I took a shaver to my face and watched the kesh fall to the floor. I shaved my neck. And my arms. It was painful... but I looked different, and that's all that mattered. It didn't work very well though, as the hair would become visible just the next day; such is the nature of my kesh. So I tried hair removal creams, which scraped my skin off. I tried bleaching, which failed and people could still see it. I tried waxing, which sometimes made me bleed, gave me small spots and bruises under my skin. I plucked. I ended up doing a combination of these things as I moved to secondary school, and from then on I tried my hardest to hide the fact that I was removing kesh! I wanted to be seen as normal, and so nobody knew about the condition. I woke up every day at 5am before school to pluck, shave etc, and then plastered my face with make up.
Finally, my GP suggested that I get laser treatment. I could get it on the NHS because of the severity of my condition, but only on my face and neck. I hated it! I had nightmares about it the night before almost every appointment haha. It was so painful and I cried every time, clenching my mum's hand as she'd tell me to breathe and stay still, not long to go and you're doing so well today. For some reason, I decided to take a picture of myself after one laser treatment. I just stumbled across it again. On the right is part of my burning, scabbed face after another lovely day in the surgery. It would take at least 3 weeks to return to my normal appearance, so during that time I hid from the world and made excuses to people as to why I couldn't come out. This went on for more than 4 years. The kesh always came back within about a month, even after those 4 years.
The psychological affects of having hatred towards yourself are incredible. They manifested themselves in feelings of worthlessness, feelings of physical sickness when anyone would try to touch or hug me, and generally being distant no matter how hard I tried not to be. I may have looked the completely ordinary girl I'd wanted to, but I was truly miserable for all those years and nothing, nothing at all was sufficient in filling the gaping void inside me. I saw a freak in the mirror, and I suppose being bombarded with images of "normal" women every minute of the day didn't help! My mum would sometimes find me sitting miserably in my room; there wasn't much either of us could say, she knew I'd always felt like this, and for years every social interaction with anyone was an attempt to cover that up. She said that God had given me the chance to look normal and that I should be grateful, but I thought that was a cop out. I knew that God would clearly not have made me a certain way so that I could change myself. I was just too weak to be the person He wanted me to be, I knew that.
Now, of course that inner void was to later be filled with the love of Vaheguru. People think that I changed instantanously and took everything in my stride as I did; to me, the transition felt arduously long and difficult, as I'm sure anyone who wishes to become a Gursikh understands. Long story short- as I found a way to read the English translations, I became engrossed in Gurbani, finding that it fit absolutely every part of my life and everything I'd experienced. I may not ever be able to find anybody who understands how I felt all those years, but certainly Vaheguru does. He'd been there all along, when nobody else had, although I neglected His attempts to reach out to me. What's more is that I found that to have kesh is a phenominal blessing in Sikhi, and suddenly my thought system was flipped upside down. (Satguru really can change anybody instantaneously). Even though I'd spent every day of my life removing hair and changing my appearance, and even though I neglected to accept or even consider His Will, He still took my hand and pulled me out of the pit of misery... I will never understand why, but I'll always be thankful. I spent a year or two in deep Sikhi related research and contemplation about life.
rom rom mehi basehi muraar ||
and on each and every hair, the Lord abides.
Reactions from others:
So when I was 18 I'd had enough. I wanted to break myself from the horrible routine that I'd been fixed in since I was a child; I wanted to be free and happy with myself. I realised that the main reason I hadn't done so before was because of my vanity and subsequently massive ego. Sikhi taught me that what a bunch of complete strangers say or think doesn't matter, none of these people will accompany you in the end (and in fact their nasty comments are of benefit to you). You will have wasted your whole life for no good reason. I didn't plan to grow my hair when I did, but what one would think would have been a long decision, I decided rather quickly. I felt too disgusted to remove my hair and I thought it pointless when I knew that my goal was to grow it. I knew in my heart what I wanted to do, with kirpa I was given the strength to do it...
Doctors: The reactions I received were largely negative; I was hauled into the doctors office more than once, where she proceeded to attempt to convince me to get treatment, questioning me about how I expected to get married and likening hair removal to an obese person losing weight- taking care of your appearance, she called it. She concluded that I had depression, because I'd apparently lost interest in my appearance.
Friends: Upon seeing me, my friends swiftly departed from my company. I didn't find that to be much of a shock actually, I knew that to some extent those relationships were entirely shallow and meaningless. Of course, none of them actually knew I had kesh, because I didn't tell anyone, so upon seeing me everyone got quite a shock. A couple of friends treated me no differently, which was great.
Family (cousins etc): Likewise, my family abruptly stopped talking to me and actually, none of them have spoken to me since. Again, not surprising. My Grandmother was shocked and would ask what I'd do when I got a beard. She'd question me about marriage and the usual.
Public: I found it hard to adjust to the public's reaction, of course. It was weird, as my kesh grew more, the more people in the street would slow down to look or turn around in shock after passing me (thinking I couldn't see them!) But that's something I got used to and don't even notice now, with the help and advice of a strong Singhni.
Dad: The worst reaction was my dad's. He furiously insisted that he'd not step foot in the house if I were to remain this way, and said he couldn't stand to look at me. What has she done to herself?! He'd shout at my mum, telling her to force me to remove it. Of course this led to a watferfall of tears and hurt, not because I was ever close to my dad, but to have such intense hatred coming from you from so many sources all at once was hard to deal with... it was quite isolating.
Well, not for one second did I think of removing my hair. Despite everything, I'd discovered a type of happiness that I never knew of! I felt like I was me, the person I was supposed to have been all along. My friends said they'd noticed huge changes in me, that it was like I was totally different. I felt it as soon as I stopped removing; I felt free and liberated, there was no feeling like it. I didn't expect that. My dad wouldn't let it go; every time he saw me he 'd make horrible remarks and he wouldn't eat while I was in the room, saying he couldn't stand to look at me. I said nothing in return.
To cut a long story short, when I felt steady in my rehat I began to tie a dastar. That tipped my dad over the edge with a number of violent outbursts, the police being called and him leaving home. He is still trying, but all of his attempts are wasted in vain... I know I'll never remove my hair again.
Sikhi:
A year ago I was somebody who made every effort to blend into the crowd, somebody who never quite felt adequate and lacked a heck of a lot of confidence. When people laughed, I was sure they were laughing at me! My confidence has obviously always been low. With Vaheguru's beant kirpa, I'm sitting here as an Amritdhari now, unaffected by any vicious remarks and I'm genuinely content with who I am. I feel blessed to have been given such a gift, and to have gone through such a journey which shaped me and ultimately led me to Sikhi. I never thought that I'd be blessed in such a short space of time, but it is undoubtedly true that when you take one step towards Maharaj, He DOES take a million towards you.
I've found who I was meant to be, and I've never been happier! No exaggeration at all when I say that immediately after I left all my kesh to grow, I changed on the inside and that was reflected on the way I was acting. I can't describe how happy I was! Not once have I considered removing my hair, in fact the thought literally makes me queasy. The workings of the world and societal norms don't affect the Sikh because everything is just a temporary drama; notions of beauty are always changing and the world is caught up in useless, shallow things that hinder true happiness.
ਸਤਿਗੁਰਬਚਨਕਮਾਵਣੇਸਚਾਏਹੁਵੀਚਾਰੁ॥
