Hair. Some people have it. Some people don’t. Some people have lots, some people have little. Some people are covered in hair, and those are yetis.
My hair has been a lot of different colors. In fact, I have dyed my hair ten different colors over the course of eight years. This may sound like a lot or nothing depending on your background with hair care. To a lot of my friends back home this is child’s play, but to many of my friends at school, this is insane. No matter who you are, everyone has different reasons for changing their hair. So, I thought it would be a good idea to see why I dyed my hair at different times of my life.
The First Time
The first time I dyed my hair, I was ten. This was the same period of time where I wore basketball shorts to school every day, had a closet that was mostly Limited Too, and tried my hardest to get my brother to hang out with me (see above picture). It was a magical time, full of Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends, Percy Jackson, and of course, lots of Pokemon cards. Even at a young age, I remember being attracted to the edgier clothing in stores. I always liked the bright contrast between black and bright popping hair colors. So I suppose it made sense when I asked my mom to let me dye my hair blue. Suspiciously, there are no pictures of me from this time… which could be because it looked awful on me. I don’t know what I was thinking. Later on, I would end up doing a tasteful bright red streak in my hair that looked much more natural.
I think I dyed my hair at this time because I wanted to feel more like an individual. Childhood can be very monotonous, even if we don’t think about it that way. Most kids look relatively similar. Also, I was a total ham and looked for attention in any way I could possibly get it, so making myself have a shocking appearance was a natural step. The nice thing about looking at these pictures is that I’m reminded of how innocent this all was, and how cute it was that I really just wanted to have fun. I didn’t yet care about who was attracted to me or what would make people like me. I just wanted to be myself.
The Middle School Break
There is a big chunk of time where I didn’t dye my hair. It was also the worst time. That hellish place in between the childish innocence of elementary school and the rebellious beauty of high school. A time where no one is happy and everyone learns to hate themselves and others.
My middle school experience started off really weird. I was going to a new school in which there were suddenly a lot of new people. Due to what some people would call “conventional attractiveness,” many boys had crushes on me. Now, to the girls who thought they were ugly and no one liked them, this might sound conceited and shitty, but it is really overwhelming to have that many people “like” you. When you’ve been going through life relatively innocently, and all of a sudden your body is the subject of mass objectification, it is a shock to your system. During this time, I really didn’t want anyone to see me. Any hair dyes would draw more attention to me and make me feel less safe. Looking back at middle school often makes me uncomfortable because many of the things that happened during that time made me constantly self-conscious and unsure of myself. I remember bringing a Seventeen magazine to school once and having my friends tell me which ones were prettier than me and which ones were uglier. I remember boys rating each girl on the basis of attractiveness during recess. Basically, middle school sucked and there was no room to be an individual. It was more important to be unseen for me than it was to be myself.
At Fifteen
It would take me a full year after middle school to feel comfortable dyeing my hair again. Now if you know me, you may be asking some questions like, “Why was your hair so long?” and “Why so curl?” and “Ooooh pretty blonde!” and while the latter is not really a question, but a comment, it is still valid. First, yes, my hair was long. It was also annoying as hell. I don’t know how much you can tell from that picture but there is a lot of hair on that head. After a while, I got to be a bit bored with having a large mass of spaghetti colored stuff coming out of my scalp. So I put some marinara on the spaghetti. At the time, dyed tips were the new fad. I really wanted to echo that look but put my own spin on it, so I dyed almost half of my hair red. The process of dye dipping your hair with kool aid is probably one of the weirdest things ever. You have to boil the kool aid on the stove and then place your hair in it. You can really fuck up your hair this way.
At this time in my life, I was severely depressed and my anxiety was at an all-time high. This was one of the first times I found out that dyeing my hair could actually be a coping mechanism for me. Dyeing my hair started to help me get through nasty breakups, bad friendships and even sexual assault.
At Sixteen
Unfortunately, sticking your hair in boiling kool aid is about as bad for your hair as one could expect it to be, so, eventually, I had to cut all my hair off. The damage was so bad that getting a shoulder length bob was the only option if I wanted to save my hair. At sixteen, I chopped off a good eight inches of hair. But something was missing. The spaghetti had no topping. So, I dyed my hair pink. At this point in time, I was still concerned with looking traditionally pretty, so many of the colors I did were more culturally acceptable. I dyed my hair pink because that was what I thought would look the most natural. I wasn’t yet ready to venture into the world of crazy colors
Or, at least I wasn’t until the summer after my junior year. Dyeing my hair dark blue was kind of bad, because I did it secretly. Why I did that, I’m still not really sure. I think I just wanted to have a secret. I dyed my hair blue at 3 am in my bathroom. The next morning, my parents were both confused and unhappy. But luckily, they have always supported my agency over my own body, so even if they preferred a different look, they always supported my choices anyway.
When I think about it, I realize I was really trying to be shocking. I wanted something different, something outside the norm. This was also around the same time where I started cutting my hair on my own. I was obsessed with the looks of Marilyn Monroe, so I started cutting my hair into shorter and shorter bobs. The blue was a way to be provocative without taking too many risks, and that was an important step on the ladder of edgy hair.
At Seventeen
Seventeen was where my hair really blossomed into the edgy girl shit it was meant to become. Seventeen was my spiritual awakening. Seventeen was when I had to apply to college. During the fall of my senior year, there were a million things to do. I cried often and in multitudes. Dyeing my hair became an emotional release that helped deal with stress, relationship problems and even looking cooler than other people at concerts. Purple seemed appropriate at the time because I was trying to get into a school that had a lot of purple for some reason.
Then, suddenly, an idea: cut all your hair off forever. This wasn’t the first time I had thought to get a pixie cut, but it was the first time that my ex-boyfriend had told me to do it while cheating on me with someone who had a pixie cut. I decided to do it. The winter of my senior year we lost a lot of spaghetti.
I also tried to dye my hair blue, but hated it. I then tried to get it out using vinegar, but messed it all up horribly. It was really, really bad. Don’t use vinegar to get dye out of your hair. I repeat: DO NOT USE VINEGAR TO GET DYE OUT OF YOUR HAIR. Just don’t do it. Trust.
Anyway, the first time I really felt completely myself was after I chopped off all my hair. And while I may have cut it for the wrong reasons, it became a part of my personality. I felt more confident, edgier and more free as a person.
Also it became a lot easier to dye my hair so many fun colors.
Now
This leads us to today. College has been such a trip, man. I’ve met some of the best friends of my life here. I can easily say that Kenyon is where I really figured out how to be comfortable. And that means more colors of hair dye.
Something I figured out about myself is that the more safe and comfortable I feel, the more comfortable I feel being myself. Dyeing my hair is a part of who I am. A lot of people say that dyeing your hair is just a way to get attention, but something I had to realize when I was young is that gross guys are gonna stare at you in annoying ways no matter what you look like. So you might as well just wear and do what makes you happy. Does my hair draw attention to me? Sure, but no more attention than I would get if my hair was long, blonde and curly.
The freedom to be who you are in whatever way should be something that everyone strives toward. It’s important that we accept everyone’s differences as a challenge to find what makes us special.
During high school a boy once told me that I shouldn’t dye my hair because he didn’t think I looked as hot that way. But any girl that’s ever dyed her hair as many times as I have will tell you that you don’t do it to impress anyone, you do it because it’s a part of who you are.
If you’re thinking of dying your hair, I encourage you to do it. I think everyone should try a color that looks unnatural at least once in their lives. If it’s not for you, that’s totally fine too. Hair really doesn’t matter that much at all. We all use our style and image to impress something upon other people. I think the impression you give should be unashamedly who you are.
So get out your dye kits, find a Sally’s Beauty, and show the world that you don’t give a shit what they think.
Image credits: Michael Grace Fisher, Barbra Ann Richardson, Lilia Mach, Anna Hamilton, Vahni Kurra