I Am Not My Hair pt. 2
Bald, Beautiful, & Blonde
It’s been over a month since I’ve sat in my beautician’s chair, put my trust in her expertise, and was made anew. I’ve been wanting to feel confident about my God-given crown for years but the hair that did and did not grow from my scalp did not allow me to. I’m unsure if that’s because America finds beauty in voluminous hair, people tease those who don’t have edges, or if it was my personal insecurity or discomfort with my appearance. Whatever the reason, I opted to turn what I viewed as a flaw into strength. Since no one’s miracle drops or growing hands seemed to help me out, I chose to blend the rest of my hair to match the front.
The irony is that I remember being in my early 20’s crying and laughing about my bald spots with a friend, saying that if my hair did not grow back by the time I hit 30, I was going to chop my hair off. To be honest, there was no way in hell I was being sincere. I couldn’t imagine being a baldie - baldie. I was used to having my own and adding hair my entire life. I had no idea of my head’s shape or how I would like myself or even what other people would think of me.
When I finally decided to go for it,
I chatted with my friends and some family members about my decision sharing pictures of styles I wanted. While some people responded excitedly, others took double takes between me and the pictures. They asked if I was sure that I wanted to go about this change. I responded saying, “yes,” and perhaps I may be balder than the style I was considering due to my hair situation. I’ll be honest and say that their reactions kind of made me want to change my mind and say “fuck it” but I also knew that if I put off this plan, I would be left drowning day to day in the discomfort I felt when getting a glimpse of my reflection whenever I was not wearing a wig. I would be the person feeling as though I am hiding from my true identity as it relates to my appearance. I would be succumbing to the expectations of others, yet again, instead of finding what could potentially make me happy. Besides, if I found that I had a bumpy odd shaped head and was not cute in my opinion after discarding my coils,
It’s been over a month since I’ve worn any of my wigs. Jenny and I have been going without wigs and we are loving it. Ohhhhhh… if you didn’t know, Jenny is my manikin. She wears my wigs before and after I do to keep them in shape, ya know, help a sistah out. Anywho! I have been feeling so happy, so bold, so free, and so beautiful that I have not felt a need to even look at those hats, bka wigs, that once gave me security. Trust that this is not me vowing to never evaaaaah wear my beloved wigs again. Those bad gals are definitely gonna make an appearance here and there but for it to be by choice and not feel like an obligation is so satisfying. I feel relieved and am finally at peace with the hatred I had for my natural grown hair.
Being bald is rejuvenating. I can just get up and go without having to spend time on my own hair or styling a wig. I can brush it or not brush it. I can use just a dab of hair product, which will last longer and in essence, save money. I can enjoy the water from my shower massaging my scalp, the sun dancing on my crown, and the wind stroking my head reminding me of the beauty I have found in freeing myself.
Never have I ever removed myself from a beautician’s chair and felt as confident as I did when I stood up that day in November 2020. I’ve never smiled uncontrollably. I’ve never sent photos to my friends to let them see my new look. It’s rare that I have taken footage of myself and posted myself with my own hair on social media. Cheers to a new me. Cheers to freedom. Cheer to