I am waiting for my ride at the bus stop after office. The day was yet to set. A lady was standing beside me, perhaps also waiting for her ride. Our eyes met and we smiled at each other. Two strangers waiting for rides to take us home. After a few moments, she came closer and said, “I like the colour of your hair. How did you do it?”
I gave the same answer I have been giving to people for the last two years: “Oh, I have stopped colouring. In fact, this is my natural hair.” She replied, “It looks nice on you,” and then added, “You are very brave” I thanked her. By that time, my microbus had arrived, and I left. She and I might never meet again, but I thought about her comment on my way home. She said I was brave.
In the past year or so, I have been asked, appreciated, and sometimes not so much appreciated, but mostly commented on my hair. Sometimes I wonder: do men who are also nearing their 40s receive the same level of comments on their hair and appearance, or judgments, even if most of them are well-meaning, as much as I have been getting?
I started colouring in my late 20s. By then, I had already experimented with different looks, hairstyles, and so many colors that until the ritual itself began to feel exhausting. Perhaps what I was tired of wasn’t the dye, but the endless attempt to fix something, an echo of that inner voice whispering, you are not enough as you are.
In the beginning, when I stopped coloring and was transitioning to my natural hair, I must be honest, I even enjoyed those validations from others. Perhaps I needed some assurance to justify my decision to say no more color for my hair. After all, I grew up in a society that demands women fret over their appearances, expecting them to continue putting in effort throughout their lives.
But of late, I have been also feeling weary of hearing people say something or the other about my hair; their questions, their comments. Even though many comments are kind, they have made me realize how quickly, as women, our bodies become everyone’s business, something people find easy to judge, discuss, or have an opinion on. As I grow and learn, I have come to understand that my hair is just hair at the end of the day. Yet, in a society where women are told their worth lies in their beauty, their body size, or the color of their hair, it seems unsettling for many when a woman stops putting so much effort into her looks.
The scrutiny on our bodies starts from a young age, and women life experiences are often tied with their bodies. Too often, our conversations and aspirations stop at our looks and the pressure to fit into certain body types that are classified as beautiful. If we don’t fit into that mold, we end up giving all our effort and attention to trying to conform. But even with all that effort, if we don’t achieve the “right” results, it makes us feel like a failure.
I am not trying to compare it with men, but for men it has rarely been about their looks. I am sure men also want, or sometimes feel the need, to look good. But boys don’t grow up constantly scrutinizing themselves or becoming their own biggest critics of their bodies. They don’t keep measuring their weight to lose it, they don’t spend as much money and effort on external products, and most importantly, they don’t judge themselves harshly if they don’t conform to certain types.
Achieving conventional beauty standards requires money, effort, and time. Resources that can be especially difficult for women who have fewer means, who are constrained by responsibilities, or who face health issues that limit their possibilities. While I am not judging anyone for buying new makeup products, buying clothes to express themselves, or trying to remain healthy by exercising or eating right, my only concern is the tendency to reduce women’s value and worth to their bodies or the constant need to remind women about their looks, or how “brave” she is for having stopped colouring her gray hair.
If, as a society, we evolved beyond the need to convince women that their worth lies in preserving the illusion of youth and instead embraced everyone’s right to age as they feel comfortable then perhaps, instead of talking about the hair on our heads, we could start talking about the ideas inside them. Our biggest regrets, our wildest dreams, and our aspirations. Wouldn’t it be amazing if, instead of obsessing over appearances, we found any person on any given day with unusual ideas and dreams far more exciting and attractive than whatever outfit they threw on that morning?
I hope as we evolve as human beings and take pride in our civilisations, somewhere in our future we can also take pride in the courage to be ourselves, in all our shapes, sizes, colours and truths.
