I have always thought of my hair as the most important part of my physicality. I was born with two cheek dimples and a full head of hair, and I have received compliments on these two features throughout my entire life. Both of these came from my mom’s side; her father had an outstandingly thick head of hair, so my mother, sisters, and I all gained this trait. My maternal grandma gave me the dimples (thanks Mema).
My self-worth throughout my childhood seemed to be placed in these physical features that society deems as beautiful: thick hair and dimples. I have always had a love for fashion and art, so utilizing my hair as an accessory has been second-nature to me as soon as my mother gave me free reign in how I chose to wear my hair. I have since made it a part of my personality rather than simply a gift I was given by my family or a beautiful thing I was granted. I have trademarked myself as “that girl who dyes her hair every couple months,” and I am okay with that. In fact, I’m proud of it.
My hair journey is this: my natural light brown hair was colored for the first time when I was fourteen and just entering high school. I went into the salon with overwhelming excitement to start getting highlights. Highlights turned into balayages, and soon I was almost blonde throughout my junior and senior year of high school. When March of 2020 hit, I decided to dye my hair (what was supposed to be temporary) purple; the purple faded to blue, and the blue fades to green on my bleached blonde ends. As you can imagine, that chlorine-esque green was not my favorite look, and before entering college, I dyed my hair back to brown.
During my early semesters of college, I had very long brown hair that I would have semi-permanently dyed auburn. The red tint faded in and out throughout my freshman year and first half of sophomore. That’s when some of the larger hair changes came. On top of dying my hair pitch black, I also experimented with front bangs for the first time.
This then switched into black with a blonde streak, one of my personal favorites. I had this hair style throughout my semester in which I studied abroad in London, and in each picture that I see with this blonde streak, I am reminded of some of the best months of my life. Each stage of my life in college seems to be marked by a specific hair color or style of cut. Like when a certain song brings you back to a distinct time in your life, I feel that with my hair.
Then I cut it short and had it dyed purple. Purple faded to red, and after this, I finally decided it was time to do my hair myself with some brown hair dye and a lot of research. Now, I am currently rocking a dark brown layered cut with chunky peek-a-boo highlights. This hairstyle is probably my all time favorite (even though I say this everytime) because I truly feel confident with it on a daily basis. Due to the nature of the cut, I have also finally learned how to blow out my hair which has added one another fun, classy hairstyle into my normal rotation.
Through each new cut, every bleaching session, and all of my phases of color, I feel a new version of myself emerge. Accepting change has always been important to me, and by welcoming new colors and styles of my hair, I also welcome change in my life. My different hairstyles have helped me unlock not only a great sense of confidence but a deeper appreciation for the art of cosmetology and for expressing myself through the beauty my mother’s family has given me.
I have full intention of continuing to change my hairstyles frequently, but I am aware of the consequences of this. Though dying my hair has inevitably caused some breakage and damage, I wouldn’t change my journey for anything. Split ends or uneven curtain bangs are a part of my life, and imperfection is inevitable. The bleach and shabby cuts I have endured have made me a part of who I am; they’ve made me “the girl with the blonde streak” or “the one with the bangs.” I am identifiable by my hair because I am identifiable with change and with joy and with fun.
To me, hair is more than just hair. It’s more than a physical feature that grows from my head. It’s a gift from my mother, a blanket of comfort, a tool for self-identification, and an accessory to match my sunglasses.