I’m Not Not Dye-ing to Make A Statement…

I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have a full head of silver hair now. Just kidding, I know you’ve noticed, and honestly, I’ve pretty much blasted it from outer space with hair growing updates, so really, unless you were purposefully avoiding my messages and posts (possible, I know), you’ve seen that my non-pigmented hair has been given full range to flourish all over my head. Writing about it has eluded me a little bit, so I’ve waited for the right inspiration. Today, fully enveloped in the luxury of laziness of Summer Break, I found that inspiration after watching an episode of “The Simpsons” with my boys:

It was the one where Marge notices her grey hair, and visits her salon, only to learn that her stylist has been covering up her grey steak for years with a potent concoction of blue hair dye. I chuckled at the cheeky way the writers implied that society has encouraged the use of harsh chemicals in the name of beauty over the other option of letting one’s hair simply be. I smiled when the characters mentioned the boldness of certain women that decide to forgo such standards on a personal quest to love oneself the way they are. Marge feels empowered during this segment to embrace her grey hair as well and she comes home to her family to show off her new silver quaff. Lisa, of course supports Marge’s choice to be her authentic self and claims the hair color as a nod to women’s empowerment. Bart, (in similar fashion to my own boy children) is a little confused, but mostly uninterested in hair color and doesn’t have much to add. Homer racks his brain for the right words to say, falling short, but with decent intent. 

As the episode unfolds, we watch Marge go through her daily tasks, meeting women along the way that offer words of encouragement such as, “you’re so brave” and “I could never do that.” At this point, I couldn’t stop watching the episode, silently nodding along with the dialogue, understanding exactly the inner conflict taking place within Marge. 

Brave? What? Brave. Hmmmm. Interesting. This is of course supposed to be a compliment, and it is always said in the tone of compliment, and with the intention of positivity. I don’t actually think that anyone who has told me this meant any ill will, or really perceived exactly the message they were really sending to me. My first reaction has always been that “brave” is used to define actions by those that do something with the possibility of harm to their own self. They do it anyway, because it is the right thing to do. So, “brave” doesn’t seem like quite the right word for not dying my hair. But, as I’ve heard this a few times now, from lovely women that are friends, colleagues, advocates, and more, I have thought deeper on the matter. I realized that “brave” is a reference to defying societal standards. What they mean is that they think I am brave to show what I actually look like to a world that really doesn’t care about my feelings as a woman in her forties. They mean, they think that it is brave for me to possibly risk connections and friendships and relationships because I chose to show the natural color of my hair. 

Again, hmmmm. Interesting. When I really understand what is being said, it’s a bit cringe worthy if I’m honest. The deeper side of it is that people feel that I am risking acceptance in a society that values aesthetics. They are a little bit worried for me if you think about it, and that feels kind of crappy. It’s similar to when I tell a person I just met (I emphasize the just met part here, because if you are my friend, you know we can joke about the ups and downs of my job. I mean, I have to joke about it to survive it some days, but I don’t want a perfect stranger telling me horrible they think my life pursuits are) what I do for a living and it goes a little like this:

Person: “So, what do you do?”

Me: “Oh, I’m a teacher.”

Person (looking either mildly irritated or genuinely interested depending on their varied political ideologies): What do you teach?

Me: Middle School English. 

Person: (Several options here…. These are the most common): 

                “Oh, wow. Bless you. You must be a saint.”  – OR-

                “Oh god. Why?”   – OR-

                “Oof, that sounds rough.”   -OR-

                “Yikes. But at least you get summers off.” 

So, in that same way, when I tell people that I teach middle school, and their immediate reaction is awkwardly complimenting me on doing a job that sounds terrible to them, one that they tell me they could NEVER do, I also feel that way when a woman exclaims how brave I am to walk around showing the actual hair that grows out of my head. As if walking around this way, provokes some kind of world war between my self esteem and the disapproval of society at large. 

I wish I could claim that not dying my hair was that important, or that big of a statement. I wish I could tell you that I am some kind of female empowerment agent that is giving a big “f” you to the establishment. I mean, if that’s what I seem like I’m doing, super cool! It’s not by design or effort, but I’m here for that too. The truth though, is that I’ve had grey hair coming in since I was in my early 20s. It’s hereditary. Our hair loses pigment early on in my line. I dyed my hair from 14 years old and on because it was fun and I liked to. I had tons of looks, and colors and did it mostly because I enjoyed changing it up. It wasn’t until I was in my 30s when the grey became really persistent and much more widespread that the salon trips started to feel like another chore. That’s also when I had less free time, because of mothering kids, and having to cover grey hair up every three to four weeks wasn’t really on the top of my list. I had to buy the spray for in between salon visits, and really the whole hair color thing was just not much fun anymore at all. 

The catalyst to me calling it quits happened when I had to miss a hair appointment and the roots were really coming in. I started to notice a social media presence of women of all ages letting go of the dye in trade for their natural sparkle. I noticed the #silversisters community, as well as the #grombre posts, and I really just started to get… curious. 

That is really what started it. A curiosity. Could I grow long, silver hair, and if so, would I like it? Would I feel older, uncomfortable, or would I blossom in confidence and wisdom? What would my husband think? And my kids? And the hundred kids at school that are going through an awkward stage of life too? What would my friends think, and the other women at school, sports, etc? 

It turned out that the old saying is true: People don’t spend half as much time thinking about you as you think they do. Most of my friends were curious too. I think a lot of people wanted to watch what happened and were mostly curious as well. I can only think of a handful of comments that weren’t totally supportive, and even those commenters changed their commentary pretty soon as well. My husband, knowing who I really am anyway, was unphased. He never gave me any reason to question myself, and I know that having a supportive partner has made the process easier. Now, he tells me that he thinks it’s pretty punk rock, and that’s a big compliment in his book, so I’ll take that. My kids maybe were annoyed at first when they had to explain to their friends that I wasn’t dying my hair anymore. Other than that, their dad has taught them well, and they know that critiquing a woman’s choices when it comes to style, doesn’t usually work out in the end anyway. (I think maybe, just maybe there are moments they think it’s a little cool that their mom is the silver haired one.) The countless women that are strangers that approach me with a kind comment really are the best. And yes, some of them tell me I’m brave without realizing what that truly implies. But, that’s ok, because I know their intention is really to just say, “hey sister, that’s a cool thing you’ve got going on. Maybe it’s not for me, but it’s for you, and that’s all good.” And so the curiosity that was, has turned to acceptance of what is, and for now, that feels perfect. If that changes, such is life. 

Which brings me back to Marge, and The Simpsons episode. At the end, Marge misses her blue hair, and she misses how people engage with her when she has blue hair. She decides to go back to the hair color because it makes her happy that way. I almost felt disappointed with that ending (but I realize, the producers are not rebranding Marge for the rest of time), but I actually didn’t mind it in the end. I think beauty, and choices about appearance are really for everyone to decide for themselves. If certain hair products or colors, or styles, make you feel good about yourself, I’m all for it. If dying feels right and authentic, I am no one to judge. I still like feeling pretty. I still want to look good in an outfit. I work on makeup and put on earrings and do other things besides dying my hair. For me, walking around with silver hair feels right for me. But, I’m here to say to all the ladies, “hey sister, that’s a cool thing you’ve got going on. Maybe it’s not for me, but it’s for you, and that’s all good.”

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