Fran Gilboy didn’t always want to be a hairstylist, as the thought of making small talk all day with strangers in a busy salon intimidated the self-described introvert.
But when she first tried to quit the profession more than 20 years ago, she ended up in her house with clients. In that intimate setting, she really gained a love of the practice.
“I was getting interested in Buddhism and meditation and mindfulness practice. I discovered that doing hair privately one-on-one really offered me the opportunity to practice skilful listening, skilful speech,” said Gilboy.
Knowing how to bear witness to suffering is a skill Gilboy has spent decades refining. She lost her mother to breast cancer at the age of 12, and then a daughter 10 years later.
“Grief has been my number one teacher in this world through great personal losses since I was very young, and of course, the many smaller ones [losses] we all experience. Ultimately it’s deep work that is done to ultimately ‘be ok with change’, which in words seems a simple thing, but in practice, is difficult.”
The pandemic forced a lot of changes — It challenged Gilboy and many others’ ability to earn an income, and to see their friends and loved ones.
Gilboy chose to approach the first lockdown in the same way she’s approached silent meditation retreats in the past.
“It just felt like an opportunity to reflect. What happens in those retreats is you’re in silence, you are acutely aware of the suffering that’s happening in the world and there’s not much you can do but hold it quietly, silently and in contemplation.
“This was an opportunity to hold other people’s suffering in a way that was helpful, acknowledging I had the privilege to be home and have all of those feelings of safety and reflection.”
Back to work
Her own fear came when the provincial government announced salons would be among the first businesses to reopen.
“I think I got seven texts that day, like ‘get me in as soon as possible’ and I just felt the brakes slam,” explained Gilboy.
She felt like a guinea pig, and was watching closely to see what was happening in other jurisdictions that had opened earlier. Her hesitation wasn’t to coming back to working with clients, but a resistance to what she describes as a “lack of clarity” from the government on what was expected of them.
She invested in personal protective equipment (PPE). She started wearing masks and safety glasses and adopted stringent screening and hand-washing protocols. She also started booking fewer clients to make sure there was ample time to sanitize between them.
“If the lockdown had allowed me to hold and contemplate the suffering of the world while in isolation, the reopening allowed me to hold people’s grief with them,” explained Gilboy.
Small talk turned big
Gilboy describes pre-pandemic conversation with clients as a series of events: trips they’ve gone on, things their kids are doing or events they’ve been involved in.
“Those just weren’t the stories anymore. It was more stories about people’s isolation experiences and since then has morphed into a lot of social distress. People are talking about the breaking down and rebuilding of society. The conversations are heavy and when I say heavy, I don’t mean bad. I just mean they’re really weighty conversations.”
It’s not unusual for a client to get emotional in her barber chair. She has worked hard to make her hair studio feel like a warm and inviting space, a safe container for any and all emotions.
“All manifestations of grief are always welcome here,” says Gilboy.
The close contact required by her job puts her in both a precarious and privileged position.
Gilboy is grateful to be able to spend time with people in a time when people aren’t spending time with others. She’s noticed many of her clients are craving human touch. She’s been intentional about incorporating a simple head massage into every cut.
It’s been able to provide these little acts of care and attention that brings Gilboy joy.
“I noted the heavy things weren’t always bad. The weightiness of joy is also there, and it’s palpable. You know, just being able to be one-on-one and engaging in a really authentic way with someone feeds my spring of joy.”
The pandemic has brought many changes to her work, some she plans to adopt permanently.
The extra time she now builds between clients is something she always wanted but never made happen until circumstances required it.
Once the sanitizing is complete she still has time to drink a glass of water or eat something, something she says makes her able to be more fully present with her clients.
She now only cuts hair and books one cut an hour and charges a flat rate, no matter the gender or length of hair.
And it took the pandemic to give herself permission to make these changes she hopes better serve her clients and her practice. It gives her the ability to just settle in with a client before they begin.
“I don’t feel that panicky rush now like we need to really get to the cut because I’m on the clock here and so are you.”
The three-month forced separation from her haircutting practice and the subsequent changes she made has made Gilboy truly appreciate her work and how much it nourishes her soul.
This act of caring, of being truly present with people, brings Gilboy joy, “I’ve come into work loving it more than I’ve ever loved it in my whole life.”
