Musing No.13

"And you tried to change, didn't you? Closed your mouth more. Tried to be softer, prettier, less volatile, less awake...You are terrifying, and strange,and beautiful. Something not everyone knows how to love." Warsan Shire

One month ago I had my hair bleached blonde. 

There was no significant amount of introspection, no great pondering that took place before I made the decision. What I did have was a strong desire, capacity and access to a darn good hair colorist. There were also plenty of photos on my Pinterest board as I needed a way to narrow down the selection on the shade and method of application.

I did it because it was something I wanted to do and it would give me pleasure. And much like my last musing on vulnerability, I’ve become a proponent for taking pleasure where it’s to be had.

But I will also admit that as I walked into the salon that Saturday morning, a part of me was also relishing the idea that I would be seen differently. As a woman who was so bold and self-assured that she could adorn herself with such a brazen pop of color and pull it off without batting an eye. I like that woman. I want to be friends with that woman. But the first time I caught a glimpse of her, she had a look of horror in her eyes as the last of the foils were removed to reveal platinum white hair tips. 

Now, no one told me that changing hair color could evoke such fear. None of the pins on the aforementioned board had been on how to process your face when your crown changes shade.  My belly turned to water and it took every ounce of my self-restraint not to cry out. What had I done?!

By the time the bleach had been rinsed out and I was put under the hairdryer, I was already making a list of ways to downplay the change. What would people I work with think? How could I make it less obvious and uncomfortable? My hair wasn't even dry yet, and already I was worried I would be seen as offensive...and you know, that's how we are with other aspects of ourselves too. We are, do or become something that we strongly desire, but when we see that others could be frightened by what that is, or that we are getting judged for it, we look for a way to be less. 

Less talkative, less opinionated, less sensitive, less passionate, less happy, less demanding, less volatile, less awake! 

We look for what will make other people more comfortable. Ways to be more docile with our partner or at work, more cooperative with our family even when they ask more than they should, more forgiving and loving even with an unfaithful friend or deceptive partner, more feminine so that the men in our lives can feel man enough. (side note - take a moment to read "Dear Woman by Michael Reid". You will not regret it!)

Well, tough luck! This girl is done with being afraid or cautious. I'm embracing my brazenness. I'm letting my bold, blonde flag fly high. So, as I sit in the styling chair for the final time almost 5 hours since the process began, I can't help but crack a smile as the stylist works his fingers through my new ombre blonde strands. I like this Damaris! The one who did something she wanted and I'll let others figure out how to handle it on their own.

I'm also heartened that I can find freshness in something that feels like it's a given. You have black hair, that's all it can be. Well, no sir, that's not true. It may be difficult, time consuming and a little frightening at first but there's no limit to what can be done if it's what you want.

Are there times that old fears creeps back in? Yes, when I brush out my hair in the morning and what feels like a million strands land on the floor, on my shoulders or stare accusingly at me from my comb. But I defiantly dust them off and put them all in the bin. Because I don't need to keep count of every single strand that says goodbye to my scalp. As much as some may be falling, even more are growing. What painful things do you have in your life that you keep diligent count of? Is it all the slights, wrongs or hurtful, careless remarks you encounter at work, or receive from family, or friends? You don't need that kind of tally. It's not helping you my love. It's just going to end up clogging up your bathroom sink and choking the very joy out of you. Begin a habit of sweeping it all up daily and then tossing it all away. And maybe you lose that hurtful friend, or leave that job if that's what needs to be done.

Do I sometimes wonder what I got myself into going blonde? ALL.THE.DARN.TIME. Blonde hair is not for the weak, ladies and gentlemen! The shortest amount of time I spend on wash-days is 4 hours. It involves several steps using costly and very specific products that I have had to source from all manner of stores and across oceans! I kid you not. I'll wait here as you Google the magic elixir called Olaplex and discover the infuriating fact that only 1 salon in Nairobi seems to offer it and at a sum that is stomach churning. So yeah, I ordered up one measly bottle of it at a handsome price from the UK and I’m still waiting on it to get here *sigh….I'm hoping it will be my Christmas present to myself (a.k.a, Dear Lord, let it reach when I still have some platinum tips left to save hahaha!) Coloring my hair has made an already savvy shopper even more ingenious. I'm always looking for great products at bargain prices. The hair upkeep is challenging and a near constant task, but it's not something I cannot do. I've risen to the task because the alternative is not something I wish to explore. And you've got to take the same approach and perspective when encountering new challenges, new problems, and new opportunities. Will that new job be more demanding and require you to gain insight and skills you don't currently have? No problem. You've got one of the most remarkable brains under that blonde hair, step up sister! 

And finally, and one of my favorite things to ponder, do blondes really have more fun? 

Yes. Yes, they do. Not because their hair is the color of the sun, but because they know and like who they are. And with an internal glow like that it can't help but show on the outside too. 

So yes, you will get stopped on Biashara Street by that guy making intense eye contact as he steps onto the sidewalk. And the guy checking the boot of your car at the airport will give you his number even though he sees you're with someone else...

Yes, you will overhear kids dare each other to ask you if that is really all your hair as you go to the shops...

Yes, those college girls will take a photo of your hair as you sit in the row in front of them in the matatu (***pro tip on incognito photography of unwitting subjects, nix the giggling next time.) But yes, yet another girl will approach you at the bookstore and ask you where you got it done...

And yes, some folks will think your hair is a weave. *sigh….I like weaves by the way, but these are the comments that hurt my vanity most because after all the effort and work involved, I want some acknowledgement that it's all me!

It's all okay, because as you diligently comb your hair into a pineapple before putting on your silk hair bonnet at night, you'll smile and think; Yes, I like this woman who felt she could match the sun in its brilliance. 

So dear reader, I want to encourage you to do what it is that is your own version of getting hair bleached. Because this wasn't just a musing on why, how and when to go blonde. It's about doing what you want to do in spite of the fear. Or maybe because of the fear. 

And Yo! Am I the only one who feels like intercontinental shipping takes too long?! #anxietyisreal #santababyineedmyolaplex ;)