Families love to say they accept you for who you are, right until «who you are» doesn’t fit their aesthetic filter. In this case, it’s hair. A brother grows his hair out, finds comfort in it, and somehow that becomes a family problem worthy of its own United Nations discussion. By the time the sister announces her engagement, her biggest concern isn’t love or commitment. It’s that her brother’s hairdo might haunt the party photos. So she bans him, like his bangs were an insult to God.  

There’s something ridiculous about people who think a sibling’s haircut threatens the architecture of social respectability. Half the guests at any engagement party are silently judging the table linens anyway, not the hair on someone thirteen seats away. But every family has one self-appointed brand manager who treats personal choices like PR threats. These are the people who believe conformity is kindness and that matching buzz cuts somehow represent moral order.