I’m thinking of letting my hair go gray.
Make no mistake: My natural hair color IS gray and probably has been for at least 20 years. But I wouldn’t really know. I’ve been lucky enough to have colorists who have been able to duplicate my original deep auburn well enough that even my husband, who’s always been foggy on the details of what happens during all those hours I spend at the salon, was surprised a few years ago to discover the red hair he sees every day isn’t real.
I’ve always been proud to be a redhead — we are distinctive and rare. I was delighted when my son’s hair color echoed my own. And, as my fellow gingers can attest, I’ve taken a lot of crap for it, too. “Red” is not a nickname I’ve ever answered to.
But it feels like a change is coming.
It started the last time I was eavesdropping at the salon. “How can I go back to gray and not look older?” the woman in the chair next to me asked her stylist.
“You can’t,” pretty much everyone in the room, including me, chimed in.
But then Cyndi, my latest color wizard and stylist, started musing as she cut my hair: “You know, since your hair is already short, you could probably go gray pretty easily. First, we’d ….”
In spite of myself, I started to think seriously about it. About how much money and time I’d save. About how nice it would be not to deal with the harsh chemicals on a regular basis. About how it might be cool to change my look completely.
About whether I was really ready to walk my talk about how comfortable I am with, um, telling my age.
To be clear, this is a personal conversation with myself, not meant to judge anyone else. Of course I believe that women can age however they want to, gray hair or not.
But in the gray hair decision sweepstakes, many celebrities and influencers have gone before me, especially recently.
As opposed to even a few years ago, headlines like “Allison Janney looks gorgeous with short gray hair” aren’t as unusual now as they used to be. Helen Mirren, Judi Dench, Jamie Lee Curtis — plenty of women in the spotlight have embraced going gray. Magazine articles tell how to take care of gray hair without looking older; I don’t remember much of that when I was editing women’s magazines in the 80s. Even Jane Fonda — at 83! — decided to go gray. Though let’s not pretend most celebrities don’t also have access to the very best hair and makeup money can buy.
Still.
My friend Jennifer took the plunge toward her natural gray color more than a decade ago. She says she’s had countless conversations — judgy and not — about her choice since then.
“The way people look matters how they are perceived in the world, and that’s triply true for women,” she said. “There isn’t one right decision that works for everybody.”
Her favorite part of going gray?
“The invisibility,” she said. “People think you’re not a force and say things around you that they think you’re not capable of understanding, until they figure out you are. It’s like an invisibility cloak.”
The idea of being underestimated wouldn’t appeal to everyone, but I know what she means. People, especially men, have been underestimating women for centuries, and being in a position to use it to our advantage is relatively new.
“People discount old women, and they shouldn’t,” Jennifer said.
Amen, sister.
Now that I’m looking, I see beautiful gray-haired women everywhere. The young woman in front of me at Pilates. My pal from college, who looks exactly the same now as she did then, except now her hair is a silvery gray. My biking buddy, whom I’ve never known any other way.
So what is it, really, that’s making me contemplate this existential change?
I am aware every day of what a privilege it is to get older and to have the chance to even think about embracing gray hair. It’s especially wonderful to have the opportunity to age doing something you choose to do, and make choices that only you can make.
So stay tuned. I have a feeling it will be an interesting ride.
We go early in my family. My college president was silver in her early 40s. She looked amazing and was an absolute force. I decided that I wanted to be like her, with shiny silver hair. Once it started coming in, I embraced it.
I decided to ditch coloring 20 years ago when visiting a breast surgeon. She had the cutest, more beautiful gray hair. I thought to myself, if a surgeon, whom women depend upon for her skills and who needs to look like she is youthful enough to chop away without her knife going awry can go gray, so can I. I have never looked back.
My hair has become white—my stylist calls it silver—is actually the hair color I prefer of all my lifetime natural and unnatural hues.