“My mom found my first grey hair when I was 12 years old (I didn’t even know that was possible!!) She always warned me that I might go grey earlier than most, but I never imagined I’d be so young. As I got older, the grey patch at the very top of my head became harder and harder to cover. My lovely hairdresser convinced me to embrace it and I stopped covering my grey hair at 24.
I’ve now been growing it out for 2 years, and I get low lights a few times a year to help it blend more since I’m not completely grey. I am learning to embrace it more and more every day. No one ever believes that I am this grey at 26! I am a teacher and my little students are often baffled — ’you don’t even have kids yet and your hair is so grey!’ I just blame them for stressing me out! But really I should blame, or rather thank, my mom!”
“I stopped dying my hair in February 2019 and I’ve been waiting patiently until my hair grows out long enough to truly show itself in a photo. I’ve always associated grey hair with negative terms — being old, being frumpy, giving up. I dyed my greys for years, trying to fight back time by appearing ‘younger’ and ‘better’ with darker hair. The thought that I could love myself, grey hair and all, or that I could embrace myself and my sexuality as a 51-year-old woman, with grey hair, seemed unattainable.
Many people close to me, including my husband and some of my dearest friends, commended my continual dyeing and agreed that I looked ‘better’ with dark hair and that I should wait until I’m much older to ditch the dye. I almost followed their path. Until, and seriously, one of those friends directed me to this Instagram site. I instantly found support and courage through all the posts of women my age, women older than me, and those much younger, who’ve decided to let go of their need or desire to cover or change their aging appearance.
I’m feeling comfortable and empowered as I let go of the need to try to look a certain way, and instead, accept my changing as a reflection of my growing wisdom. I’m loving these silver strands. And I know that I can love and have compassion for all those around me only if I first have love and compassion for myself.”
“24 weeks into my dim excursion. Would you be able to see the sluggishness in my eyes? Quite a while past I understood that my eyes part with essentially everything. An acknowledgment like that at a youthful age served to make me an especially genuine individual. Not on the grounds that I remained on some ethical high ground, but since I essentially couldn’t lie well indeed. Over the long haul, the genuineness got constant and agreeable (fortunately) and I understood it was really a straightforward lifestyle choice.
Yet, the possibility of untrustworthiness was SO awkward, that at whatever point individuals praised my pure black hair, I’d end up spluttering and jabbering clarifications about it being colored and not actually mine, and so forth, and so on I’m REALLY anticipating now having the option to say ‘thank you’ when somebody says they like the shade of my silver hair. What a delight it will be to be freed of this weight I put on myself.”