His screams could be heard down the block. Mothers, babies, and grannies gathered to witness the murder in progress. If you don’t live in Belize, you should know that Belizeans run from one thing and one thing only. Rain. But you can guarantee an audience if your house is on fire, if there’s a street fight, or, in this case, if someone is screaming bloody murder.
Only it wasn’t a murder. It was my son getting his hair cut. I may sound dramatic, but I jest not. This was our seventh attempt at a salon with barber number five. Liam and I exited the shop like two war-worn soldiers returning from battle. We were filthy and disgusting. Sweat and snot and hair clung everywhere. We had caused such a commotion in the quiet neighborhood that people had come out to see what was happening. They stared at us with wide, wary eyes. I held my child close and retreated to our vehicle. We’d survived, but this was the worst one yet.
Looking for empathy
We had been on a mission to find an empathetic hairdresser for two years. The first one gave it his best. I sat in the chair and held Liam down, while he maneuvered upside down and sideways with the screaming, kicking child. At one point, we were all on the floor. Liam on his belly, I on his back, holding his head, and the poor man with the clippers squatting on the floor. I tried to rebook an appointment with him. He said he was booked.
“How about next week then?”
“Booked,” he replied.
“The week after that?”
“Still booked.” I took the hint.
The second barber was most patient in the beginning. He said, “Don’t’ worry. All kids are like this. He’ll get used to it.” But Liam never did. It only got worse. He would start screaming as soon as he saw the shop and wouldn’t allow the barber near him. We had a couple painful sessions with this barber. But when I tried to rebook, my calls went straight to voicemail. I think he blocked my number.
I cannot repeat what happened with the third hairdresser for the sake of everyone involved.
The fourth barber flat out quit halfway through. “This is impossible,” he said. “I have people waiting. No charge.” We were upsetting his customers and causing quite a scene. “Thanks anyway,” I muttered under my breath as we fled the salon with Liam’s patchwork hair. I think we should normalize patchwork hair. Just saying.
Not my talent
But why didn’t you just do it yourself, you ask? Oh, I did. We lovingly refer to that period as the BDF haircut. (Absolutely no offense to our military! I think you guys look great.) I can best describe my attempt at cutting his hair a low buzz cut with bangs. It was really, really bad. There are certain things I can do fairly well. But cutting hair is not one of them. Neither is cooking, but that’s another story.
Understanding the cause
So this had become our routine. Hopping from barber to barber, hairdresser to hairdresser, hoping that someone would find a way to cut his hair successfully. But what’s the issue here? See, many autistic children find haircuts painful. Literally, painful. Their sensory challenges amplify the vibrations of the clippers, or the noise of the scissors. The feeling of hair falling into their face or mouth sends their body into an extreme panic. You can see the fear in their eyes. You can hear the terror in their screams. It’s absolutely traumatic—for the child, most of all, but also for the parent or caregiver.
It takes a special barber or hairdresser to go the extra mile to make a child with autism feel safe. One who has taken the time to understand autism and holds space for the uncomfortable moments. One who is willing to take as long as it takes to get it done. One who is kind and empathizes with our cause. Is that person you?
Creating a safe place
So what finally worked for us?
First, time and patience. We gave Liam the opportunity to learn about hair cutting on his own terms. He watched videos. Did art. He listened as we spoke casually about barbers and haircuts in regular conversation. We had him hold and play with clippers (safely, without the blade), so he could see it wasn’t a murder weapon. He gradually became familiar with the idea.
Next, through a friend of a friend, we found a barber willing to do home visits. This was key for us. Having the session done at home took away the stimulus of being in a strange environment. At home, he could feel more at ease.
When the day arrived, he was as best prepared as we could have made him. I held him on my lap for his safety, all the while reassuring him that it would be ok. We put his favorite show on the TV for a distraction. And with much prayer and anticipation, it worked! The day he had his first successful haircut was momentous. It was a major milestone.
We’ve come a long way since then. Liam now gets excited to see the results of his cool hair designs. Does he love haircuts now? No. Definitely not. But he’s learned to self-regulate with the help of the support we put in place. And with the work of our treasured autism champion barber.
Big up to Reginald from the Slip & Slide Barbershop!