To preface:
My mother was a stoic and deeply private soul. She was a sun sign Cancer through and through - always keeping her most personal thoughts close to the vest and letting very few into her inner-most circle (if you’re loved by a Cancer you know how very special that is). In my effort to authentically & transparently share the story of shaving my head there are aspects of Mom’s life and experiences that I will also share; I do this with deep love and respect, always endeavouring to not overstep what would feel fair to her (truthfully she’d be uncomfortable with even being mentioned here, but I hope she would also see the value 🙏🏼). Additionally, I’m honoured that other amazing women in my circle accepted my invitation to share their thoughts and feelings around their own hair loss…I won’t name them nor quote them directly - to protect their privacy and ability to share what they want, how they want, when they want - but their generosity has helped me glean a deeper understanding of the many ways & reasons that this is often so difficult for women.
I’m deeply appreciative to each for their courage, vulnerability, candidness, and trust. Thank you.
I believe in the power of sharing our stories and hope that each woman who contributed to these upcoming posts will feel proud that we, together, are helping to move this important conversation forward.
In 1995, shortly after Mom had begun her chemotherapy for Stage IV MBC, I was in my bedroom when I heard her crying…I rushed to her bathroom to check on her and found her distraught, looking down at the clumps of hair at her feet in the shower.
While she’d often lamented that she ‘hated’ how fine her hair was, it was still one of her ‘pieces of armour’ - tied maybe only with her signature red lipstick 💋 - against what can feel to be a harsh world. Being stripped of - what many of us can relate to - her protective cape, and feeling as though she was laid bare, was devastating for her.
We encouraged her to wear the wig she’d bought - but it was itchy and hot*;
we encouraged her to try wearing a scarf - which she did a few times (most likely to shut me up 🙄) - but she just felt it wasn’t ‘her’ - and, admittedly, it wasn’t;
mostly, we encouraged her to remember that she remained the woman we loved regardless of hair…
…the thing is, SHE didn’t feel that way —> SHE felt naked, conspicuous, like a ‘patient’, and the centre of attention - all of which was incredibly foreign and difficult for HER.
At the time, I was simultaneously heartbroken that she was suffering, and also (please remember I was young) frustrated that she was putting so much energy into it: ‘why was hair so important when we were fighting for her LIFE?’ Today I better understand - or at least I’m more aware of - the societal pressures that women are consistently conditioned to meet or, at minimum, strive toward…we’re taught that hair is linked to beauty & beauty to hair, something that is constantly reinforced in our communities and media; how many of us believe that our hair - at least partially - will dictate or inform how society treats us? How many of us have associated having a ‘good day’ to having a ‘good hair day’ or ‘bad hair/bad day’? Ask any woman how often hair comes up in conversation and she’ll echo my experience that it’s both often and that the headline is almost always a complaint: ‘too thick, too fine, too curly, too straight, too grey, too ‘mousy brown’, too limp, too unruly’…with the secondary headline being ‘the treatments and products that will help us ‘fix’ our ‘woeful locks’.’ 😔
Of all the women who have graciously shared their stories with me - high level execs, stay at home moms, women of varying faiths & ethnicities, women who were confident in their own skin, women who were highly adventurous, women of all ages… I can report that lifestyle, job, role, confidence, network, skin colour, nor age insulated them from the emotional toll & complicated feelings surrounding the loss of their hair.
My empathy has only grown since that day I tried to console my mom 25+ years ago, and eventually led to the decision - in late 2019 - to shave my own hair off. I thought of it as an ‘exercise in empathy’, knowing full well that my CHOICE to do this would not be anywhere close to what the woman who doesn’t have a choice feels, BUT also believing that it might allow me at least a little insight into how it feels to walk out into our world as a bald woman. I wanted to do this to not only better understand as a daughter, sister, friend, woman, and human being, but also so that I might provide an increasingly understanding experience for my portrait clients - those who are facing or who have faced treatment as well as all who live in this society hell bent on dictating to women how they are ‘supposed’ to look.
iPhone selfie, mere minutes before we shaved my head.
May 2020
When the idea first crystallized for me I was laying on the beach in Brazil - soaking in the equatorial sun and salty ocean air, surrounded by carefree friends and family, enjoying a fruity caipirosca, without any pressing care in the world. Life seemed easy. The plan: shave my head in my birthday month of May, incorporate a ‘before’ self-portrait (as it’d been YEARS since my last), shoot an ‘after,’ and record my findings, all as part of documenting the experience and - hopefully - learnings. I had no idea - who did 🤯 - that a pandemic was about to upend everything! When May 2020 rolled around I knew two things: that I remained determined to have this experience AND I would need to extend the timeline to ensure I’d have the opportunity to be ‘out in the world’ (vs the 2020 daily of: bed, couch, netflix, kitchen, office (in my pjs), backyard, prime, repeat 😬).
Self-Portrait; May 21, 2020
On May 19, 2020, my husband and kids helped me shave my head on the back deck. I was surprised at how emotional it was for me - I mean: I had both contemplated and chosen to do this and kept repeating to myself “it’s only hair” - something I’ve long believed intellectually and that has guided me in my parenting (see my earlier blog post on this here)…alas, it was emotional. I found myself worried about others’ opinions, about how I myself would feel when I looked in the mirror…Would I regret this? Would people support or ridicule: both the experiment and/or the look? Would people whom I expect the best of or worst of deliver? Would I retreat from the world, seeking shelter from judgment, or be bold & empowered in my new-found freedom?…….. Time would tell.
I was also struck, and buoyed, by the love and support D, M & F provided from the first time I voiced my desire to do this…that they didn’t care what my hair (or head) looked like (I must have been held a lot as a babe as the melon was round 😉)…with incredible humanity, they both simply - and grandly - loved ME…I could feel that they genuinely wanted me to explore this experience because they knew I felt it was important, and they reminded me, ‘it’s only hair.’ #tribe
I expected this ‘experiment in empathy’ to be layered, and - holy dina - it was 😮 Big takeaways regarding social conditioning, marketing, boundaries, ego, confidence, judgment, and grace. Stay tuned for a future post on what this past year has felt like - the good and the bad, together with insights from the women who have generously contributed to the conversation. I’ll also be addressing some of the questions I’ve been asked…if there’s anything you’re curious about feel free to drop your question in the comments or send me a dm. ❤️
xo Lori
* re: wigs - the options have come a long way since then 🙌🏻