Being a woman with alopecia means facing the fear of rejection, shame, loneliness, and loss of self-confidence. But it also means building a new, stronger version of oneself along the way. Or at least trying, because that counts too.
Every morning begins with the same scene – brushing your hair, after which whole strands remain in the sink, attempts to style your hair (if it can even be called a hairstyle anymore) to cover the bald patches on your scalp. Another discouraged look in the mirror, a breath in – a breath out, and a move into a new day where you are one of approximately 160 million people worldwide battling alopecia.
Alopecia is a condition that appears in various forms, and it can be simply explained as hair loss. In some cases, it can involve the loss of all body hair. The most common types of alopecia are androgenetic (baldness in men and women caused by hormonal changes) and alopecia areata, which affects the scalp or the entire body in different ways, with research showing it occurs more frequently in women.
Whether it is focal, universal, total, or scarring alopecia – two things apply to every type: they are autoimmune in nature, and it is difficult to determine the exact cause. Consequently, the search for an effective solution to stop the progression of symptoms often becomes a futile and exhausting struggle. Because this is not just about hair. Being a woman with alopecia means facing the fear of rejection, shame, loneliness, and loss of self-confidence. But it also means building a new, stronger version of oneself along the way. Or at least trying, because that counts too.
My Safe Place
Scarring alopecia has been with me for a whole decade. I can attribute its onset to Systemic Lupus, with which I have lived for 20 years. It could be said that I won the autoimmune bingo – alongside lupus, which, like many other autoimmune diseases, is often ‘invisible’, there is alopecia as a condition that few will fail to notice. At the same time, countless questions arise. Have I lost my femininity if I have no hair? If I wear a wig, does that mean shame has prevailed? If I do not want to talk about my alopecia, does that mean I contribute to the taboo of the topic? Even if, for you, the answer to these questions is ‘yes’ at this moment, it does not mean it is wrong. Who says there is a ‘right’ way to cope with alopecia?
The path I chose in this process has provided me with security and self-confidence. My safe place has become the scarves I wear daily. Various patterns, materials, and sizes, colorful or monochrome, scarves tied around my head have given me the opportunity to ensure that alopecia no longer defines my identity. Let us not forget that we come from the position of girls and women who must answer to others for their appearance and choices on how to cope with their diagnoses. Not because we want to, but because society takes it upon itself to comment on and define our femininity.
