I have endured many awkward social interactions over the past eleven months in the name of self expression. If you don’t know what I look like, the underneath of my hair is bright pink. Having pink hair lends itself to many weird looks, especially the farther I get from the New York Metropolitan area. Having such a striking physical feature means that I have totally learned to go with the flow; I roll with the punches that often come in the form of insensitive comments or the occasional question as to why I would ever do this to myself. However, I love having an unconventional appearance. Plenty of princesses, fairies, and cartoon characters have pink hair, so why is it suddenly taboo when I do it? The occasional judgment doesn’t bother me anymore; it just reinforces that I’m not living for anyone else’s approval.
I decided to dye my hair in January of my senior year of high school—brave, I know, and with some huge events coming up. But my pink hair genuinely makes me feel like the most authentic version of me. When I was younger, I used to force my mom to tell the same silly stories every night about Princess Samantha and her dog, Biscuit, living in a castle that was pink, purple, red, and blue. I guess you could say maximalism has always been my thing.
Part of what I love about pink hair isn’t just for the aesthetic, but also for the human connection. Seeing another person with pink hair lights up my day. I always make an effort to compliment a fellow pink-haired person, no matter the circumstance. Side note: Trader Joe’s is basically the mecca for pink-haired-people interactions.
Something that makes me smile almost as much, and occasionally even more, is a compliment from someone you’d never expect, like a dad or a Chad. A straight man realizing that pink hair is cool seems like a pretty big compliment to me.
People always ask me if I’m ever going to get rid of it, since for most people, colored hair is a one or two month thing. The short answer: yes. The long answer: I’ve thought about it a million times over the past few months. The heat damage, the cost, the upkeep, it does get overwhelming. But right now, I honestly wouldn’t feel like myself without it. There are definitely trade-offs: my white silk pillowcase is now pink, along with anything that lives on the top half of my bed. Even my bamboo hairbrush is stained pink, which I genuinely didn’t know was possible. But especially since coming to Bucknell, this is the version of me everyone met first. The pink hair became part of who I am, and I love it, so it’s staying.
So I’ll be the first one to say: embrace change. Cut the bob. Dye it blue. Shave it all off. Don’t be scared you’ll look ugly or silly—take the leap. College is the time to try things out. After these four years, you may not get another chance to have a cheetah-print buzz cut or microbangs. So don’t miss out.