Shining through: the unexpected power of going grey

It started with an idea from my good friend Oprah. I bet you didn't know we were so close. To be honest, neither does she. Back in 2014 I was flipping through my beloved (and now sadly defunct) O Magazine, when a photo stopped me in my tracks. It was of a woman with shoulder-length silver hair with a few streaks of her original dark brown color. Instead of looking like an elderly grandmother, she appeared to be about my age at the time (45). Somehow despite her grey hair, she still looked young and vibrant. Below her photo was a short paragraph about her decision to stop dying her hair -- how freeing it had been, and how happy she was the results.

Hmmm, I thought to myself. Maybe when I turn 50 I should consider that. It was dizzying to think about the prospect. I had been dying my hair since my 30s when large swaths of grey seemed to crop up overnight. I had purchased so many boxes of dye, all of them picturing women caught in mid-laugh, perfect shiny hair in delicious shades of Toffee Brown, Dark Chocolate, Golden Honey, or Royal Chestnut. "Look how nice and easy and fun it is to color your hair," these boxes seemed to promise. After nearly 20 years, I considered myself a seasoned DIY colorist. But I had always hated the messy, tiring process of coating my hair and roots with the gloppy, smelly, stinging chemical paste every six weeks.

It was a necessary chore--or was it?

I cut out the magazine photo and in 2015, my 50th year still a few years in the distance, I took the plunge. Since I teach during the school year but not the summer, I thought it made sense to start over the summer to minimize the shock value. Over the weeks I watched as my part widen into a bright silver, in sharp contrast to the tired flat tone of my dyed hair.

By the fall, my natural hair was halfway grown in and my beloved hair stylist added some lowlights to blend old and new hair together. Back in the office, I was taken aback when a male colleague (with his own head of grey hair) joked, "Wow, you really aged over the summer!"

I searched my mind for a snappy retort but could offer only shocked silence.

Fast forward to the following summer and my hair was fully silver with a few streaks of my natural dark brown color. One day while I was loading cardboard into our community recycling bins, a woman pulled up in her car next to me and shouted, "I had to stop just to tell you I LOVE your hair!" A few days later a jogger passed me on our hiking trail, smiled and said, "Oh my gosh, your hair is GORGEOUS." I of course appreciated their kind comments, and the choice, for me, began to feel like something deeper than just appearance.

A few months later, The Wall Street Journal published an article about the best beauty products to cover grey. My 12-year old son noticed it and said, "Why don't they write about how to go grey instead?" So for fun I emailed the WSJ writer and shared my son's comment, mentioning my own delightful experiment. She emailed back and said he had a good point, and that she would love to do the same, but that her natural hair just wasn't pretty.

I thought about her response for a few days afterwards: what makes us think what is natural to us is not pretty? And why, in contrast, do so few men feel the need to color their grey? (In 2019, the WSJ took a different tack on gray hair. My son saw the article and joked, "Look, Mom, you're a pioneer!").

To be crystal clear, I want all people to do whatever they want with their hair, whatever makes them feel most beautiful and most like themselves. For me, this decision to go and stay grey felt more than a cosmetic change. It began to symbolize a decision to show more of my true self, to stand in my own power, to resist the idea that I should cover up something that was natural to me. But there still have been plenty of moments when I felt an urge to get one of those shiny boxes again--these lapses in confidence have always been related to a fear of looking old. Several years ago at our local pool a friend of my daughter's asked me, a puzzled expression on his face, "Are you . . her . . . gr----" and I swiftly cut him off before he could finish the word, assuring him that I was her MOTHER.

But in general staying grey has been empowering in a way I never thought that something related to my physical appearance could ever be. As I move through my 50s, my continued choice to keep my natural hair reminds me to speak up for myself, to share my point of view even if it might be in conflict with someone else's, and to trust my instincts about what is right for me.

It's been eight years since I saw that inspirational photo in O Magazine. Recently I was looking through my academic headshots and was amused to see evidence of when I still dyed my hair. In the early photo (2013, below, left) I see a physically younger person but also see hair that has been coated with chemicals for many years, its natural texture ravaged. I remember that particular ache in my right arm trying to get all the layers covered with the dye brush. In the recent photo (from 2022, below, right), I see a person who clearly is nine years older yet happier. Instead of a strawlike bob, my hair looks softer and smoother--it matches my other coloring, because it was made to. More importantly, I notice my expression--there is an ease and comfort that better reflects me today --more of my true self shining through.