Gray. Grey? Silver. However you spin it, it’s not a popular choice. Well, if you’re talking cars, it may be. If you’re talking hair, holy sh*t, you best be talking about cars. The stigma that surrounds women and their strands of silver is so deep rooted in our culture it’s astounding.
I have never been, nor will I ever be the type to hit up the salon to get her hair “look” polished. Okay, once upon a time, I got highlights in a salon. I dyed it at home. Once. It turned orange. I went dark to save it. I got highlights to lighten it. That was the end of the road for me and when those first gray strands burst past the color, I ignored them.
At first people didn’t notice. They complimented my highlights. I laughed to myself and parted my hair a little differently to hide those pesky silver strands. Somewhere along the line, those pesky strands turned into a full on streak on the front end from roots to ends past my shoulders.
Sometimes I try to pony tail it in a way that they blend in and on a quick glance, they appear as bright highlights. I think. Outside the streak, there’s some recruiting going on and some friends are joining the ranks.
I’m okay with it. Doesn’t really matter to me. I had crazy blond hair growing up and silver seems a fitting way to round out my life.
My dark haired beauty of a sister, who is recognizable by her thick strands, has recently decided to actively embrace her grey and have the guidance of a professional leading the way. She’s tracking her journey and speaking of the confinement of constant coloring and how freeing it is to let go. About how many beautiful silver, white, and gray sisters there are out there rocking it on the daily.
I chuckle to think that by our fifties or sixties we will no longer be that blond hair pale sister and that dark haired olive sister.
We shall be silver sisters.