Today, though, their hair is short

Another they does an interview.

Kae Tempest is perched at a table outside a station-side cafe, playing with a cigarette. Murphy, Tempest’s alaskan malamute, stirs as I approach, and on clocking me, Tempest returns the cigarette – still unlit – to their chest pocket. For years, Tempest’s long curly barnet was a trademark look. Today, though, wearing white trainers, upturned jeans and a turquoise jacket, their hair is short, a neat fade that, Tempest says, they still occasionally catch themselves admiring.

Got it? Tempest is special. Tempest is a they, Tempest perches and plays and has a malamute, Tempest has short hair.

In August 2020, in an Instagram post, Tempest came out as non-binary. They announced their name is now Kae (pronounced like the letter K), and explained that, going forward, they would be using they/them pronouns. “I have tried,” they wrote at the time, “to be what I thought others wanted me to be so as not to risk rejection. This hiding from myself has led to all kinds of difficulties in my life. And this is a first step towards knowing and respecting myself better.” Beyond this statement, however, today is one of the first times they have publicly spoken about their experiences.

So what? Do we have to hear about such experiences from everyone on the planet? We couldn’t even if we wanted to, due to time constraints, but fortunately, we don’t want to.

Tempest dreamed of cutting their hair. “I wanted to, so much,” they say, “that every time I saw somebody with short hair or a fresh haircut, it would physically hurt me.” For years, Tempest felt trapped in their longer locks: everyone said cutting those long curls would be a travesty. It became symbolic: a shield Tempest hid behind, yes, but also representing their ever-present discomfort with expectations of femininity. “I convinced myself I could never risk cutting it,” they say. “I’d think: ‘If I do, will I still be able to go on stage? People will stop listening.’ It’s wild what dysphoria does to you.

“I was resigned to living the life I was in,” they say, “and then maybe at 50 when I stopped having this career I thought I might be able to finally transition. But increasingly I couldn’t bear it.” In January 2020, they chopped their hair short. Their eyes light up when recalling the sense of liberation. And then, the pandemic hit. For the first time in what felt like for ever, Tempest was forced to take a beat. A few months later, they came out publicly.

They chopped their hair short, and then the pandemic hit. Bit of a disjunction there. There’s really no need for that much angst over a woman cutting her hair short. Ever seen photos of Audrey Hepburn? Jean Seberg? Shirley MacLaine? It’s not unknown for women to cut their hair short. I get that it’s more fraught for some than others, and maybe extra fraught for a performer, but still – it’s not really that significant. Encouraging this kind of navel-gazing is a mistake. One might even say it’s Not Helping.

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