Cutting Rapunzel’s Hair
Letting Go of What’s Holding You Back
Inspired by Tangled, the Bible, and a few hard-won lessons of my own, this piece explores the invisible cages we build in the name of love, service, comfort, and identity—and the radical freedom that comes when we finally walk away.
The Gift That Trapped Her
In Tangled, Rapunzel’s golden hair is mesmerizing—not just for its beauty, but for its power. When she sings, her hair glows and heals. But it’s this very magic that gets her locked in a tower by a woman who pretends to be her mother.
The woman doesn’t love Rapunzel. She loves what Rapunzel can do for her. That magical hair is like Botox for her fading youth.
What’s so beautiful becomes what’s exploited.
Her gift becomes her prison.
The Cut That Sets Her Free
And in one of the film’s most powerful scenes, Flynn cuts her hair out of love. He severs the very thing being used to keep her small. It’s an act of liberation.
That’s the moment many of us never reach, because we’re too attached to our own golden hair.
Comfort as a Cage
I once met a man who wore a cap in every single photo. Swimming, at events, in meetings—it never left his head. Maybe he was hiding baldness. Maybe the cap made him feel confident. But it also held him captive. His comfort had become his cage.
The Price of Attachment
In the Bible, there’s a man who asks Jesus how to enter the kingdom of God. He’s lived a moral life. Done everything right. Jesus tells him to give away his wealth. The man walks away heartbroken because he can’t let it go. He doesn’t realize the very thing he clings to is what’s keeping him out.
That’s how it works.
The comfort becomes the chain.
The identity becomes the trap.
The Trap of Helping
For me, it was the relentless urge to save the world.
I grew up in a developing country, surrounded by poverty and illness. That environment lit a fire in me to make things better. And for years, I let that fire consume me.
I said yes to all the pro bono work. I comforted friends who didn’t want to get better. I obsessed over whether people sorted their trash correctly—because even the planet felt like mine to protect. All of it noble. But unsustainable. These were tiny cuts that slowly bled me dry.
I wasn’t helping anymore; I was performing the role of someone who helps. I had become trapped by the identity I built.
Cutting My Own Hair
Eventually, I had to draw the line. To walk past a homeless person without guilt. To say no to draining projects. To let things fall apart without blaming myself.
It wasn’t cold-heartedness. It was self-respect. It was cutting my own Rapunzel’s hair.
What Are You Still Holding?
We all have something we’re afraid to release:
You want to be liked, so you take the abuse.
You’re hurt, but you won’t admit it because pride is your mask.
You long for freedom, but won’t leave the job, the city, the relationship.
You simmer in anger, but stay silent to protect an image.
You chase a dream you’ve outgrown, because you can’t bear to say it’s over.
You cling to an identity—achiever, caretaker, savior—long after it’s served its time.
What was once your crown has become your shackle.
The More Powerful You
The arc of growth isn’t about becoming more.
It’s about becoming true.
And that begins when we cut loose the things that no longer fit. When we stop pretending. When we walk away from the tower and reclaim our own lives—not for others, but for ourselves.
Letting go of what once defined you, whether it’s being the good daughter, the strong one, or the fixer, isn’t weakness.
It’s wisdom. It’s strength. It’s freedom.
It’s how you come home to yourself.
The Power in the Release
Cut the hair.
Let it all fall away.
Your power isn’t in what you cling to. It’s in what you’re finally brave enough to let go.