The first snip echoed like a snap of bone. A long braid fell to the floor. Then another. And another. Courtney’s tears spilled silently. Students looked away, unsure whether to cry, protest, or run.

Within minutes, Ms. Whitman turned on the clippers. The buzzing filled the room like a nightmare. Courtney’s braids disappeared—replaced by uneven bald patches, then bare scalp.

The room was suffocatingly quiet.

And in that silence, Courtney felt her heart break.

Courtney walked through the hallways with her hood up, eyes fixed on the ground. Students stared. Some whispered. Others recorded. Shame clung to her like heavy chains. She wished she could disappear.