My Alopecia Journey

Posted on April 21, 2022 by Harriet Harris, One of Thousands of Career Coaches on Noomii.

“When Black women make peace with their hair, they will rule the world.” Author Unknown

I heard this quote many years ago as I began struggling with losing my hair. As a Black woman, like so many of us, I had spent years using strong chemicals on my hair in order to relax it and wear it in styles which seemed more acceptable.
My hair loss began in my early twenties. A friend of mine, who was a newly graduated beautician applied a relaxer to my hair and did not fully wash it off my scalp. I remember feeling my scalp tingling and itching while under the hair dryer. However, when I asked her if she felt this was a problem, she said that the symptoms would stop once my hair dried completely. But the itching did not stop. Once leaving her house, I went home and washed my hair again thoroughly. However, damage occurred after the relaxer had dried with direct heat on my scalp.

For years, the crown of my head continued to itch off and on, which caused me to scratch and continue to aggravate the problem. This damage to the follicles of my hair caused a condition known as folliculitis (inflammation of the hair follicles), which eventually leads to death of the hair follicles. However, this did not stop me from continuing to have relaxers put on my hair. Occasionally a beautician would comment about the bald spots which were beginning to be noticeable on the top of my head. However, I remember only one saying to me that she did not recommend I continue to use relaxers. Most of them simply ignored the situation and gave me a style to cover the area. Thus, my hair loss increased over the years and became more pronounced as I aged.

Growing up as a young girl in the 1950’s and 60’s, Black hair was something to be tamed, managed, and kept subdued. There was never a time when my hair was worn loose. Braids (which we called plaits) were the standard for almost all of the girls in my all-Black elementary school. Though, there were a few special occasions when some young girls with long hair wore their hair loose after being straightened and curled on the ends. My hair was of medium length (6-8 inches), which could accommodate plaits nicely. My grandmother and mother always instructed us to keep our plaits from coming undone and under no circumstances were we to ever allow our hair to get wet without adult supervision!

Not wetting our hair became the biggest challenge and creator of anxiety for many of us. After the hair was straightened with a hot comb, it could quickly become un-straightened by water. This meant that heavy sweating and swimming were out of the question during the school year, unless we had permission to do so perhaps on the weekend, when we could get our hair re-done before the next school day.

Once or twice a month, Saturday night became hair-care night. We were allowed to wash our hair, towel, and air-dry it thoroughly before sitting down to the painful hot comb and curling iron. I cannot remember how many times the tips of my ears and back of my neck was burned before I learned to duck my head to the rhythm of approaching heat. For me it seemed like a rite of passage for all young Black girls.

Before the hair could be straightened however, it had to be combed out and detangled. My hair was known as “bad hair,” the kind, which was very thick, course and painfully hard to comb, especially after drying. Additionally, I was called “tender headed,” which meant that I would cry easily, unable to tolerate much pain. This battle with the management of my hair followed me into adulthood. For this reason, once I could afford relaxers, I was not going to give up having one applied whenever my roots grew out and became hard to comb. Thus, even after beginning to lose my crown hair, I would not give them up.

Toward the middle of my thirty’s, I began to develop male pattern baldness. This condition presented after years of using plastic rollers in my hair each night. Tension around the edges of my scalp caused the hair to thin there, just as men’s hair thins around the front edges. This created a further dilemma, as I was becoming unable to comb my hair back from my forehead to cover my balding crown. I made the decision then to stop using relaxers and switch to having my hair braided. Small corn-roll styles allowed my hair to be swept up, circling my head, and covering the balding areas. However, freshly done braids are very tight, which lead to pulling out hair around the edges. But at that point, I felt I had very few options for styles which were in my mind “acceptable,” particularly to my white co-workers.

Around this time, my son, who was approximately twelve years old noticed my balding crown once when I was removing my braids. He became very alarmed and tearfully asked me what was going on with my hair. I explained to him what had happened, but he continued upset upon learning that my hair loss was permanent. I finally quieted him by promising him that I would never embarrass him by allowing any of his friends to see my hair problems. Inwardly, I condemned myself for having made the bad choice of continuing to use relaxers for so long.

My long history of experiencing anxiety concerning my hair, lead me to finally wearing wigs and weaves, which further damaged my hair and scalp. This caused me to finally lose most of the hair on top of my head, creating a “George Jefferson” type of look which was horrifying to me and further increased my shame and embarrassment. This impacted my self-image tremendously and caused me to not want to date. By the time I was approaching sixty years old, I had settled into life as a woman who would probably never be satisfied with her own hair, but owned a large variety of wigs and enjoyed changing my look for every occasion. Thankfully, by that time, it seemed hardly any Black women wore their own hair anymore.

By the time I was getting ready to turn sixty, I was running my own successful home health business, and had been for more than 10 years. Becoming comfortable working from home, I had lapsed into wearing wigs and making sure to always present a neat, professional appearance whenever I had to leave my home office. I was proud of the fact that my business had taken off and was doing so well. Not having much of a social life, I had thrown most of my energy into growing my business. As a home health service provider, I had gained much respect from my staff, clients, and colleagues. I was realizing that more is involved with receiving respect and admiration even, than what my hair looked like. Having kept my promise to my son, he was proud of my accomplishments also.

Ten years ago, for my sixtieth birthday, I made the bold decision to shave off all the rest of my hair and go bald. My son had graduated from college by that time and lived on his own in Florida. He and I planned a birthday trip together, since his birthday is the day after mine. We planned a fabulous trip to Las Vegas. Unbeknownst to my son, I decided to make the trip my “coming out” celebration.

Two days before leaving, I found a very empathetic barber who agreed to come to my home and complete the task. We set out on my back porch while he quietly cut off the long portions and shaved off all the rest. I decided not to look into a mirror until he was finished. Before he finished it, my tears began to fall. I realized I was losing something which I had struggled so hard to accept and deal with all my life. Seeing my tears, he very compassionately comforted me by saying: “It’s going be okay, you’ll see.”

Once the barber completed it, he immediately told me that he thought I was beautiful. I was sure he was just saying that to make me feel better. However, when I left the porch and came into my bathroom to see my fresh look for the first time, I agreed with him! I truly did feel and look beautiful! I realized in that moment that I could finally be free from anxiety regarding my hair. It was as if a tremendous weight had been lifted from my shoulders. My shaved head not only looked beautiful, but my face had a new-found glow of confidence and appreciation of my natural beauty. I realized my head shape was perfect for this look, symmetrical, smooth, and skin flawless.

When I returned to the porch smiling, he smiled too and reminded me that he had already stated the obvious. I concurred with him and thanked him for so lovingly helping me in the process. As he left my house, he assured me that I was going to not only enjoy Las Vegas, but I would be starting a brand-new chapter of my life. We both agreed that I did not look like I would be turning sixty years old but looked much younger. My new look and new-found confidence was directing me to a new, happier path than I had been on in years.

In a few months, I will be turning seventy. Its hard to believe 10 years have passed since I first embraced my baldness and began to live a happier, more authentic life. My romantic life has been full and enjoyable, as men both young, old and all races find me attractive. Most often they marvel at the confidence I have in my natural beauty, without pretense. After all, authentic relationships are the most lasting, satisfying and enjoyable ones!