PROVINCETOWN — I have not had a haircut in at least seven months. My hair is almost as long as it was 50 years ago. It doesn’t really matter; I don’t go out much, and not many people see me. Just a few of the people who do see me make a big deal out of my hair. Some have called it “Covid hair”; others have said that I look like a homeless person, or a hippie; still others said I reminded them of Einstein (my personal favorite).

This all got me to thinking: what is a haircut for, anyway? Most women have longer hair than most men. Why is that? Well, you will say, to better differentiate the sexes, to enhance attraction and reproduction. But I must counter that there are far better features to differentiate the sexes (need I mention them?), and, besides, there are ravishing women with very short hair or no hair at all, and there are some very masculine guys with shoulder-length hair.

So, why do most men get their hair cut? You will say, to look good. But what does “looking good” really mean? Who decides? How does this happen in a culture? How do we end up with a consensus of style? Who sets that trend? Certainly, men have not always had short hair. We do not have to go back to Biblical times — look at those locks on Jesus! — to see other standards.

Presidents Washington and Jefferson had pony tails (and they powdered and pomaded their hair and sometimes wore wigs); later presidents wore it full about the ears (check out Andrew Jackson: a dead ringer for Rod Stewart), along with sideburns and beards. Only in the late 19th and into the 20th century did presidential hair styles begin to get shorter. (Our current president’s hair, which is beyond categorization, appears to require lots of product and care. He deducted $70,000 for hair styling as a business expense on his taxes, the New York Times reported.)

I seem to remember reading that the first real shift to short hair on men came during World War I, when our soldiers had their heads shaved or close-cropped (for hygienic reasons), and many men during and after the war wanted to emulate them. I think there was a similar trend after World War II, when the crewcut was all the rage. And I certainly remember — indeed, took part in — the long-haired rebellion against society that began in the 1960s. Hollywood and popular music (the social media of the time) had great influence.

I have been comfortable with my own hair only in the second half of my life. As an angst-filled teenager, I could not get my hair to take on the look I desired. Its texture could be described as bushy, full, wavy, curly — anything but straight. First, there was Elvis, whom I idolized. I used Vaseline straight out of the jar to get that slicked-back, almost greasy straight black hair that was his. It worked for about an hour.

Then came the Beatles: their floppy mop tops were all the rage. When they shook their heads in choral ecstasy, every hair responded, like those of the beautiful women in one of those shampoo ads on TV. I wanted that, too. I used a hair straightener from a jar with directions in Spanish. I think it was basically lye. I had scabs all over my scalp, but every hair fluttered when I flipped my head. But my hair grew back in its original form.

It was Bob Dylan who came to my rescue: the disheveled look was finally in.

Styles come and go, and we live in their stream. It is not only ephemeral things like hairstyles, but thoughts and opinions as well. I am old enough to remember when civil rights for some people was a new idea (at least, in the mainstream culture); when it seemed natural that women be secondary in so many ways to men; when gay people were thought to be at best unfortunate and at worst a threat to society; when the vulnerabilities of our planet and our precious environment were not even on the horizon.

Those were different times, but not so long ago. Now we are here. What comes next?

In the meantime, I am going to let my Freak Flag Fly.