Why I went white…

I think I may have some company soon! The pause of commerce due to the Coronavirus pandemic has caused a large number of people to miss their hair appointments. I heard about a survey that stated that many people are feeling more comfortable not wearing as much makeup now and feel they will be more confident “going bare” after things open back up. I am wondering if some will make a similar change with their hair and let the white or gray shine through. If anyone is on the fence, you truly have to do what is right for you. It is a very personal decision and there are so many emotions tied to our appearance and to our hair. Here is my story about why I finally decided to let my hair go white.

I started getting white hair at a very young age. I truly was okay with this! My mom had beautiful white hair and I always admired it. When I first started seeing the white hair popping up, I was in my late 20s. By the time I was 32, I had a prominent white streak that started from the left side of my forehead. When I styled my hair, I would part my hair on the left and extend it back towards the right and it would end up looking kind of like I was a lopsided skunk or a tame version of Cruella DeVille. Well, when I type that out it doesn’t sound so pretty, but it did look good, I promise! When I didn’t style or my hair was just floppy and messy, it was okay, too. It was different and I enjoyed having a new look. My stylist at the time loved it, too. He would ask me to please never tell anyone that he did it because he would not be able to duplicate the color.

I was happy with the white streak for a long time. Then the white streak started expanding! I was still a young-ish mother with young children, I thought to myself. I look so old! The fact is, I became a mother at 33. I already had white hair at that point in time. Once the kids were old enough to go to school and I started meeting the much younger than me parents of their new classmates, I started feeling that I was in the minority as far as age is concerned. Sometimes I would part my hair on the other side (see third photo above) just to hide the streak. Eventually, I decided I should start coloring my hair. Oh, boy….what did I get myself into?!

The fact is, hair grows. I would get my hair colored, but I would have white roots before I knew it. It was WAY too expensive to color at the salon as often as I needed it with a now more completely white head of hair. I started coloring out of the box. Let’s just say, I made some poor color choices. I would often end up with a hue that did not complement my skin tone. It resulted in making me look, well, kind of like a person trying too hard and failing despite her best efforts!

My struggle with hair coloring reminded me of a family story of my Mom. She was 8 months pregnant for me and my oldest sister was graduating from high school. Mom asked one of my brothers to go to the store and get some hair color for her. He brought back black hair color…she was very fair skinned, this was definitely NOT the right hue for her and it is something she never would have chosen for herself! Feeling so desperate to hide the white, my mom used it, anyway. The result was disastrous. It was very hot day, the auditorium was not air conditioned, my mom was probable already uncomfortable because of the precious treasure she was carrying (me!) and now had this mop of incongruous black hair. My sister says it was quite the sight to see! As I write this, I wonder if this was a turning point for my Mom. Maybe she decided enough was enough and took the plunge to stop coloring. I only remember her as having white hair, so she must have stopped the madness shortly after this.

I decided to start coloring my hair lighter. In 2014, I eventually colored it an ash blonde (fitting!) and noticed that the white was not very noticeable as the roots started showing. I decided to be brave and stop coloring altogether. I have not regretted it a single day since! Sure, I still have days where I feel like people think I am older than I am and I have had many bonding moments with fellow white hairs (that’s what I call us…very creative, I know) who are usually significantly older than me. It’s nice, though! The word that describes it is liberating. It is liberating to be me, as I am. No frills, no smoke and mirrors. Happy and more confident! I hope others join me and show their natural beautiful selves with confidence.

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