gray hair – Feminism and Religion

I am 47 and I have gray hair. I decided to stop coloring my hair some months ago. A decision that was and should be a personal one, set me up, like a badly dressed starlet in the pages of a fashion magazine, for commentary from everyone.

This includes my mother and assorted sisters in law, cousins and stepson, friends and even salespeople.

Perfect strangers.

I was prepared for my mother’s reaction who is in her late 60s and starts getting restless when a minuscule amount of hair roots begin to show their natural colour every couple of weeks. Who still has her eyebrows threaded in that ultra thin style that was (thankfully) only fashionable in the 1970s. Obviously then, when I first announced to her that I was going to abandon the hair dye, she wasn’t thrilled.

Imagine being confronted with a powerful and disturbing image illuminating the vagaries of time beside a daughter, your child, with a head of gray hair, when your own is burgundy brown.

Or at least that is what it says on the box.

A stranger, a woman in hijab, stopped me in a supermarket aisle and told me I was ‘brave’.

“I wear the hijab and I wouldn’t ever stop coloring my hair,” she further stated.

A gorgeous friend, always perfectly manicured, expressed confusion, “but why, baby?”

One of my cousins, to whom I sent a selfie, text back, aghast, “Ya Allah!”

In Cape Town, a fashion conscious young woman who works for my mother in law caught me alone one day and approached me warily.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” she asked.

“Yes”

“Is your hair natural or did you pay to get it done?” she continued.

“It’s all natural”

Continue reading “Gray is the New Black by Jamila Sumra”

My hair started “going gray” at nineteen. Prophetic, you could say, for a college girl whose life was going the same way.

The gray hair began around my temples, curling around my ears like a vine before following my hairline to the forehead and down the spine of my scalp. I remember calling my mother and telling her between tales of new classes and new boys of my new whiskers. “Oh, and mom, you will not believe it. I found a gray hair. What is that?”

Her laugh vibrated though the phone. “That is normal. I went gray at 19. Your father went gray at 19. Your brother has it coming in, too, nowadays.” She added, “Sorry.” But she didn’t sound it. Continue reading “Girls Gone Gray by Erin Lane”