Growing up, I always dreamed of being a blonde. I was envious of my sisters with their beautiful blonde hair, while I was stuck with my boring brown hair. After getting my hair stuck in in a brush and having to cut it about two inches from my forehead, my mother finally let me get blonde highlights. That was the start of my hair journey. I loved the blonde and so did everyone else.
My hair stayed light for about three years until one day, my fourteen-year-old self decided to dye it black. Needless to say, it was horrible. At the time, I loved it, but it only took me a few months until I got sick of it and want back to blonde. I stayed blonde throughout almost all of high school and my freshman year of college too. It was not until I came to college however that I got all this attention for being a tall bleach blonde, with big hoop earrings, and rarely ever wearing a shirt that covered all of my stomach. I loved the attention, but it was not until I dyed my hair brown that I realized I was getting the wrong kind of attention. People would see me and automatically make assumptions about me because of my blonde hair. I would act like I did not care but deep down, it hurt me. It’s hard to know that every time someone looks at you, they automatically think something nasty about you because of your hair color. My friends would tell me that just by looking at me, you would think I was a hoe; not because of my actions but because of the way I looked. It was honestly heartbreaking having to hear that from my friends, the people who are supposed to support me and make me feel good, made me feel horrible about myself.
Everywhere I would go, I would get looks from men, or little compliments from them, that honestly just grossed me out and did not make me feel good at all. The boys that I would talk to never wanted anything serious with me, and looking back on it now, I can’t help but wonder if it was because of the way I looked or because of what people thought of me. Boys thought they could take advantage of me because I was a “dumb blonde,” but that was not the case.
I was talking to this boy last year and he told me once he had heard about me, but he still decided to talk to me; now I know that does not sound so bad, but it’s not what he said, it’s how he said it. Which made me wonder what people would say about me. Going to a small school it’s hard to run away from the reputation people give you because word travels fast. I always wondered why my blonde hair always gave me such a bad reputation. I could never escape the cliché blonde jokes, and whenever I would say something dumb, people would tell me the bleach was seeping into my brain. I did not think it was fair that a hair color determined what people thought about me. People would meet me and tell me that they thought I was mean, or they thought I was a hoe, but after meeting me they realized I was not. It was hard to wrap my head around the whole thing because my blonde hair did not define who I was.
It was not until the end of summer going into my sophomore year of college that I decided I needed a change. I made the courageous decision to dye my hair brown, and let me tell you, there were tears. I wondered if being a brunette would still give me the negative attention that I received being a blonde and honestly, I don’t think it does.
After I dyed my hair, my mom told me that nobody was going to recognize me and boys were going to like me better as a blonde. Because of what she told me, the night before I came to school I had a dream that I went back to school and everyone told me they liked me better as a blonde. I woke up terrified to go to back to school. My dad reassured me that he loved my new hair, and that nice boys like brunettes. Coming to school, I received several compliments on my brown hair and my friends told me to never go back to blonde; not to mention, they were the same friends that told me to never go dark.
Being a brunette, I have to admit, is different. I don’t get the same attention and looks I got when I was a blonde, but I’m honestly okay with it. People look at me now and they see me for me, not my blonde hair. And I know that probably sounds stupid, but it’s honestly true. I’ve only had my hair brown for a little over a month, and I already know I will not be going blonde again for a very long time. Sometimes I do miss my blonde hair, but I don’t miss the stereotypes that come along with it. It’s important for girls to know that a hair color does not define you and you don’t need to change yourself for other people to like you. I did not change my hair because of what people would say, I changed my hair for me and because I wanted to. I’ve had several people ask me if blondes have more fun, but a hair color does not control how you act or how much fun you have, and I think that’s something people need to know. The color of my hair does not determine who I am and that’s something that took me a long time to realize.