The Bald Eagle: Origins

As a Freshman in college I discovered the hairline on the back of my head was ascending in a triangular fashion. I had thick, curly hair that I never knew what to do with anyway. It was when I went to get my hair cut over Spring Break (ironically enough) that my hair stylist found more bald spots and said I should get checked out immediately. There are a multitude of things that can cause hair loss: ovarian cysts, lupus, syphilis, hypothyroidism, and the list goes on. I went to multiple doctors, had three different blood tests, had UV lights shown on my skin in search of fungi, and was even examined for ovarian cysts. You name it, it happened. It wasn’t until later when I was finally recommended to a dermatologist that I was diagnosed with Alopecia Totalis. The dermatologist scanned me over, looked at my nails for the pin pricks that are a signature of alopecia, and declared I was a healthy being with hair falling out. “HOORAY! FINALLY!” I thought. I had already researched and convinced myself that I had Alopecia, but it was just nice to finally hear.

From there, I was offered a variety of treatments. One that was peculiar involved being induced with poison ivy to see if my immune system would attack the poison ivy rash thus giving my hair follicles a chance to grow back. This was an experiment that would have put me in the hospital for seven days. My first question was, “well, what happens when the poison ivy is gone?” In my mind, the body was going to do what it was programmed to do and attack my hair follicles again. I used special hair regrowth treatment shampoos while my hair was still falling in clumps in the shower. Nothing worked. I didn’t really expect it to either.

After each shower, I felt like pieces of my self-worth went right down the drain with those clumps of hair. Mortified, ashamed, depressed. These feelings were temporarily covered up by a synthetic cap of hair on my head. Adults surrounding me would sympathize and try to find me help. No one ever told me it was ok to be bald, that I was beautiful anyway (with the exception of my Daddy of course).

I never did shave my head while I was losing my hair. I went from covering with hats to wearing a wig. I wouldn’t swim with friends, and I exercised with a wig or hat on so no one could see. Why should I have felt too ashamed to bear what I was born with? I had (and have) my health and a fulfilling life, but losing my hair was emotionally exhausting.

You know when you’re younger and you try to picture yourself as an adult and what you will look like and what you’ll be doing? Such a glorious fantasy at a young age! I never could picture what my hair would look like or how I would deal with it, so perhaps that was my body foreshadowing for me.

After I chose the wig route, I received compliments everyday! “Your hair is so beautiful! How do you do it?!” Awkward compliments on the facade that I was living. I awkwardly responded with a shoulder shrug or the confident “well, you know!” I can be quite talented at covering things up. (BA DUM CHING). The focus was always my synthetic hair. How appropriate to today’s beauty standards. I felt foolish that I was surrounded by people who can’t seem to go past a person’s appearance.

Enter my Senior year of college:

During my Senior year I had (and still have) a wonderful, supportive, loving group of friends who made me feel comfortable in my skin and without the wig. I wore a wig for a solid 2 years before even considering taking it off. I went through three wigs before I embraced alopecia and rocked the bald head.

Spring quarter, it’s scorchin’ out, I’m graduating soon, I have to do something that defines my existence. I chose to show up to classes one day without anything on my head. I was shaky and clammy with nervousness. I walk into one of my favorite classes and take my seat. Oh yes, the stares. I can understand! I had this beautiful head of “hair” for 10 weeks and now I’m showing up with not a single strand of it! My professor took role. She would spend 45 minutes of class taking role because she wanted to have an interaction with every student in the class. I’ll always appreciate her genuine interest in each of her students. She read my name, I flapped my right arm up, and she says, “you are the most beautiful person in the world.” My fair skin blushed and I thanked her. Cool and slightly confident, I walked out of class that day, looking at people in the eyes internally declaring, “OH YES I’M BALD! TAKE A GOOD LOOK!” Mmmmhmmm. Satisfaction for who I am was achieved!

I did continue to wear my wig on and off after leaving my comfortable college environment. Before I graduated, I started a photo album entitled “Weave Time with Friends.” This was a comical, personality appropriate way, of making Alopecia fun and educational. This album remains my favorite to this day. If you wear a wig, share it with your friends. I guarantee laughter, smiles, appreciation, and, ultimately fun.

Alopecia is an ongoing lesson. Today, I am wig free and bald as can be. I experience the stares, I get questioned, I see the sympathy eyes. The difference now is that I have embraced my Alopecia and have spread body positivity to people who surround me and the youth I work with. You’re here to shine and make this journey a beautiful one. Don’t dwell on what you lack, thrive on what you have.

Love, Health, and Light,

-K. Way