The End Of The Unibrow

February 2000 was a turning point in my life. I had been baptized as a Jehovah’s Witness, not truly understanding the gravity of that decision or how it would shape my future. My initiation into the faith came with an unexpected gift—an electric guitar. It was ironic, given that music would later become a major factor in my estrangement from the church. Every year, Jehovah’s Witnesses from various districts and circuits gathered at the Assembly, a massive event held at Nassau Coliseum. For the older generations, it was a time to worship and find unity with like-minded believers. For the younger crowd, it was a chance to mingle and potentially find a partner. I remember the air buzzing with anticipation as we circled the coliseum, eyeing potential romantic interests. At that point in my life, I was painfully self-conscious. My Junior High School graduation photo in a red cap and gown had showcased my unibrow in all its glory, and it haunted me. My mother would always reassure me, saying, “This is how God made you.” But at the time, it was a major blow to my self-esteem. As I walked around the coliseum, I spotted a beautiful blonde girl, her hair glinting in the sunlight. My heart raced as I mustered the courage to approach her. Our paths finally crossed, and with a deep breath, I introduced myself. Her eyes scanned my face, and she asked, “What’s wrong with your eyebrows?” Her words felt like a punch in the gut. The memory of that moment is still vivid. I recall leaving the Assembly, humiliated and defeated. I retreated to the back of our family van, hiding from the world as tears streamed down my face. In a fit of rage, I used my fingertips to rip out the hair connecting my eyebrows. The pain was nothing compared to the emotional turmoil I felt. When we arrived home, my mother discovered my handiwork. She scolded me for questioning God’s creation and for succumbing to the opinions of others. As I looked in the mirror, I saw a reflection of pain and vulnerability. That day, I made a promise to myself—I would never let anyone make me feel that low again. From that day forward, I began to embrace my imperfections and the person I was meant to be. I took solace in my music, finding an outlet for the emotions that welled up inside me. My guitar became my anchor as I navigated the stormy seas of adolescence and the challenges of faith.

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