I am not my hair. But... (2021)
I’ve had a complicated relationship with my hair my entire life.
The world sent a lot of negative messages about people with hair like mine. I didn’t understand why it was seemingly so “bad,” but apparently it supposedly was. And no amount of wishing on a star that I’d wake up with a hair texture more similar to my mother’s looser, softer hair resulted in any changes.
I eventually came to embrace every single bend and coil of my free-spirited, thick, 4C hair, regardless of the world’s having a different preference for the idealized standard of beauty. It took years, but I grew to love and celebrate the texture of hair that grew out of my head. However, I had another hair-related hurdle to contend with.
I no longer struggled with self-hatred, but I did struggle with trichotillomania (compulsive hair pulling. I also struggled/struggle with dermatillomania, which is compulsive skin picking, but that’s a story for another day) for years.
It was a habit I developed as a coping mechanism when I was a young child attempting to come to terms with the trauma that persisted long after the sexual abuse had stopped. And, I suspect, it had also morphed into my default “stim” mixed with some self-harm. I pulled out eyelashes; portions of my eyebrows; segments of hair from my scalp…even occasionally pubic hair (sorry if TMI).
It took a long time for me to stop engaging in hair pulling. A LONG time. But eventually God helped me to stop, and I was grateful. And happy.
Until recently.
It all happened so fast. One day I had an odd, thinning patch in a weird part of my scalp. It was painless, and I was clueless how or why it appeared. But it didn’t stop there. In an extremely short period of time, I rapidly experienced changes.
It wasn’t very long before my once bouncy, beloved shoulder length locs had to go. There was so much missing hair it was pointess, so I cut it all off and went online to order a super cute long braided wig that I have now been wearing for ~2 months and seven days now.
I had never heard of alopecia areata before the amazing Representative Ayanna Pressley revealed that she had the condition; I had only been familiar with “traction alopecia,” something I took care to prevent. When Ayanna shared her story (I believe in 2020), it was very moving, even though I could not relate.
Today, I relate more than anything, and I’m so grateful for her vulnerability and truth. I pray that one day I will be as brave as she is, but I know it will take time before I feel that I can do a “public reveal” like she did. (If/when I do, I want to use the makeup artist that she used…talk about gorgeous work!)
So y’all won’t see me with my “signature” locs anymore - because I don’t have them. I’m planning to play around with some different wigs and hair prosthetics as well as maybe cute head wraps/scarves/hats. Who knows; maybe it will be fun.
I’ve linked Ayanna’s video below. It *claims* to have captioning, but sometimes I can get it to work while other times I can’t, so apologies in advance if it isn’t accessible.
I have alopecia areata, so I have lost/am losing my hair. I am, at least partially, bald.
And I still matter.
