The Day I Decided to Stop Coloring My Hair

I didn't stop coloring my hair because I suddenly became brave. I stopped because I became curious.

As more gray began to appear between appointments, I found myself wondering something I hadn't really considered before: What does my natural hair actually look like under all these years of coloring it?

It sounds like such a simple question. But for me, it wasn't.

I had been coloring, highlighting, changing, and maintaining my hair for so many years that I honestly didn't know what was underneath anymore. And somewhere along the way, my curiosity became stronger than my desire to cover it.

I wasn't trying to make a statement. I wasn't rejecting beauty or deciding that women shouldn't color their hair.

I simply wanted to meet the woman who was already there.

The First Time I Tried

This wasn’t the first time I had tried to see my natural hair.

Years earlier, when I was 43, I had tried to let my gray grow out. At the time, I thought the easiest way to get there was to bleach my hair myself. It wasn’t.

I damaged my hair badly, but I kept trying. For about four and a half months, I told myself to stick with it. Eventually, I gave up and went back to coloring.

For a long time, I thought of that experience as a failed attempt. Looking back now, I don’t see it that way.

I just wasn’t ready yet.

And so I went back to what I knew. I colored my hair again, went to my appointments, and carried on with life.

But the gray never really went away. It was always there, quietly showing itself between appointments. And over the years, something in me began to change.

By the time I was 49, I wasn't looking at my gray the same way anymore. I wasn't wondering how quickly I could cover it.

I was wondering what would happen if I finally let it stay.

The Second Time Was Different

This time, I knew it wouldn't happen overnight. And I knew I didn't want to repeat what I had done the first time.

I decided to work with a stylist and use a bleach-and-tone process to help blend the years of colored hair with the silver that was growing in. It wasn't an instant transformation. There were awkward stages, unfamiliar colors, and plenty of moments when I could have changed my mind.

But something was different this time.

Instead of looking at every new inch of gray as something I needed to fix, I started watching it with curiosity. The more that appeared, the more I wanted to see.

Little by little, my natural color began revealing itself. And for the first time, I wasn't trying to decide whether gray hair made me look older.

I was beginning to recognize myself in it.

What I Was Really Choosing

Looking back, I realize the decision wasn't really about hair.

I wasn't choosing gray over brown, or natural over colored. I was choosing to stop measuring myself against the woman I used to be and become more comfortable with the woman I was becoming.

There was freedom in that.

My silver hair became something visible, but the change happening underneath it was much bigger. I was beginning to understand that aging didn't have to mean becoming less of myself.

It could mean becoming more.

That was the day I began choosing silver.