Going bald was an easy decision to make.
The most challenging part was debuting the drastic change. I was worried that people would respond terribly to it. But then my mother splashed me with compliments, urging that I lose the curly wig and sport my baldness.
It all started in early September.
I noticed that my edges were slowly beginning to recede and the overall state of my hair was horrendous so I already knew that I had two choices:
1) Ride it out by simply treating my hair.
2) Shave my hair and start all over again.
I’m so glad I chose the latter as I continue to embrace my baldness like never before.
I must mention that this wasn’t immediate. I think it was after the third time shaving my hair and once I noticed its condition had improved, and my once receding edges had grown back, that was when I truly felt fierce.
Hairdos were almost like a security net for my self-esteem: it elevated it. I always felt on top of the world with hair on my head despite knowing in the back of my mind that soon I’d have to take it down and think of a new hairstyle in the process. It was a never-ending cycle and caused more mental damage to myself as the years progressed. Paranoia, stress, and feelings of self-consciousness rose and soon overwhelmed me, driving me to shave my hair in October, and again in January, and again in March.
For years, I relied on hairdos to make me feel beautiful. Now part of me feels like shaving my hair was my way of reclaiming that power and using it to benefit myself by having my personal definition of what beauty is.
Conventional or not.
Words by Phalinda Wakadima.