Going Gray In Plain Sight
It's not just about hair.
My hair started to turn gray in my 20’s.
I have always had dark brown almost black hair. That coupled with the total lackluster amount of melanin in my skin—save the freckles that appear when the sun hits my skin for more than 2 minutes (yes with copious amounts of sunscreen)—created a look that I just associated as me. Dark hair. Pale skin. Blue-green eyes.
“You know you look like that one actress…?”
Yes. Debi Mazar. I literally know her entire body of work because I have heard that since I was in high school when she was on a show called Civil Wars between 1991-1993 which you probably never heard of but more likely than not you would refer to her as “you know, that actress that was in Goodfellas/Empire Records/Entourage/she’s friends with Madonna…” yadda yadda.
But I digress.
When the first gray hairs slowly started to sprout from my scalp in my early 20’s I started to do a super subtle toned highlight that was just slightly more reddish brown than my natural hair color. And then while I was in grad school at Stanford in my mid-20’s hating everyone and everything I had ridiculously bright panels which were super rad—electric blue, bright red, fluorescent pink, royal purple—over my natural dark color. As the gray grew more plentiful I settled into dyeing it with an overall tint until just after my 38th birthday.
When the first gray hairs slowly started to sprout from my scalp and I knew you could see them I started reciting the legacy of my maternal grandmother going gray in her 20’s. I didn’t understand that what I was trying to tell you was the legacy of women dyeing gray hair. There is an essay about this that will be written in its own time but today is about when I decided to stop dyeing my hair and the little voice that told me, “This is not just about hair.”
It was 8 years ago when my youngest was almost 6 months old and my oldest was 3.5 years old that one day I simply decided I was done dyeing my hair. I started to read all the blogs about growing out gray hair, I read all the encouragement, and I read all the ways you can do it. Because I had such dark hair I assumed I would do some sort of interim “low-lights” coloring to aid in the transition, and my colorist thought the same.
But then I decided, fuck that. I’m done means I’m done. And it means you are going to see me growing out my gray hair which means I am not going to hide that I am going gray by coloring my hair to hide that I am going gray until the gray is all brilliantly grown through.
And so it began.
This was most definitely not just about hair.
I am a Radical Transitions writer + coach + consultant and my business is called UnBecoming LLC. I work with visionary entrepreneurs, small business owners, and leaders who are transforming the way we do business so that we all thrive. Seeds that were planted in 2020 through the work and deep relationships forged through the LIFT Economy Next Economy MBA program are blooming from a root system that has grown slow and steadily with care and intention.
My work is shifting, expanding, and evolving significantly in this moment and it couldn’t have happened sooner. How my writing, coaching, and consulting are living into my offerings is in a phase of shedding and distilling clarity. In plain sight.
I can see where things are going. I can see clearly what is coming forth. And I want it all to be grown out NOW. But that is not how time works.
Part of me wants to put low-lights all over this shit so I can hide in plain sight. So then one day magically my new business will be all grown out and no one will ever see this weird phase.
But then I remember that the practice of transformation—that is literally the foundation of my work—is not an arrival at an outcome, it is in the UnBecoming.
Here’s what really happened when I grew out my gray hair in plain sight.
I prepped myself to grow some thick skin and look weird for a while. Like probably at least a year for a while. To help that a bit I chopped my hair off.
Then the weirdest things happened.
Mostly nothing happened. I literally went about my day and forgot I had roots, then a quarter, then half of my hair sprouting silver glitter out of it while the rest was the almost black hair I have had since I was born. As I slowly stopped fixating on you seeing me grow out my gray hair, I started to actually experience the elation and freedom of letting it come through however it will.
Random strangers did start to notice. And inevitably they would say a variation of the same thing: “I have been thinking of growing out my hair too!” To which I would say, “Do it!” and we would chat and I became their cheerleader and they became mine and it was a camaraderie that was so unexpectedly meaningful.
At some point, it was grown out. There was no moment or ending or arrival. Because it keeps getting more and more gray. But it is my hair. And I love it. I don’t love gray hair more than not gray hair. I love that it is just me. And it is a privilege to live into it. And when people compliment my hair and tell me they want to grow theirs out but it would never look as “good” as mine I try to gently convey that’s not the point and it is going to look amazing because it is their silver magic and the magic is in doing it and seeing who you are, so I simply cheer them on and tell them to keep going.
OK I SHIT YOU NOT, I am in a cafe writing this and at this exact moment someone standing not 6 feet away from me just made a self-deprecating comment about finding their first gray hair in their late 30’s. And I just smiled. Ok, I smirked. Someday I hope they let themself experience the truth.
Growing out my gray hair has been unequivocally, yet so very quietly, transformational. And I don’t need to be an evangelist about it, but if you ever want someone to cheer you on, call me.
Because I know it is not just about hair.
You're better looking than Debi Mazar